WUTHERING NIGHTS: A Wuthering Heights Teen Vampire Fan Fiction
by Summer Day99
Summary: When Heath and Kate meet as children, they form a bond that lasts forever. This is a modern, teen, vampire fan fiction that follows the story arc of the original with a few twists and turns along the way!
1. Prologue

Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer: 

Wuthering Nights

Copyright © 2012 Summer Day

All rights reserved worldwide.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without the express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

*Note to Readers: UK Spelling / Punctuation used in Wuthering Nights

**WUTHERING NIGHTS **

**Prologue**

**From the journal of Greta Gardner, February 1978**

_The boy arrived at night, wrapped in a blanket. He was carried by his adopted father who placed him on the kitchen floor next to me. His big blue eyes stared out from under his wild black hair. He shrank from the fire, he shrank from my touch, yet his skin was cold as ice… _

_He arrived with a list of instructions tucked into the pocket of his jacket. _

_Eats - mostly chicken and oranges (likes: roast chicken, blood oranges and plums). _

_Drinks - mostly water and citrus juice._

_First warning - do not let him go in the sun often as he burns easily. _

_Second warning - make sure he wears his necklace amulet (a parting gift from his biological mother). He screams if you take it. _

_Final Warning - do not let him go out at night alone. _

_As a small boy (just walking) he had a tendency to wander off, and many times staff at the orphanage were unable to find the little fellow for hours. Once, he was found hanging upside down from the roof of the school gymnasium, like a bat. The only giveaway was the drip drip drip of juice as he stuffed his baby face with blood oranges._

_His file was then stamped: Special Needs. _

_I shook my head as I read this. I was sure Mr Spencer had finally lost his mind dragging the mite all the way back from Spain. It was many years before I learnt the full extent of his malady._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_**Hareton Hall**_

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London, Present Day**_

When I saw the house in the fragile light, I could barely make out the lines of gothic architecture in the morning mist. I'd heard whispers about the strangeness of the place. I was told that I risked my life going there; that the owner brandished a gun and roamed the heath looking for his lost love. Music and chatter, laughter and screams could be heard miles away in the night. Neighbours said the lovers who'd inhabited Hareton Hall lived there still, as young and beautiful as they ever were; haunted.

The family, the Spencers, originated in Yorkshire and could trace their lineage back a thousand years. Their secrets wove through history and time and family portraits. I held in my hand a photograph of Mr Spencer, an aristocrat with an interest in archaeology, returning from a trip to Spain with a small child. Among other documents, there was a photograph of the entire family, arriving to greet Mr Spencer and his newly adopted son at the airport. The family were generationally wealthy. Mr Spencer had an interest in Botany. According to my documents, he kept to himself and his study. Within the file, I also retained the marriage notice of the daughter, Kate. This was long before the family feud that had ignited decades of dispute.

In the picture was a beautiful mother with ink black curls. The older teenage boy, Harrison, had a scowl on his face and headphones on his ears. He appeared tuned out from the proceedings. The girl, her dark curls tied with an unruly red ribbon, revealed an adorable cherub face. Aged six, she peeked out from behind her mother and stole the picture. It was this child's face I remembered long after I'd set the image aside.

As I walked along the winding road that led from Hampstead Heath towards Hareton Hall, I passed another magnificent home, The Grange. This was a Georgian mansion hidden behind a maze of orange trees as opposed to The Hall where photographs showed gargoyles at its entrance. The signatures I was required to collect involved the ownership of both properties.

I'd been advised not to try to park along the icy road that connected the houses on opposite sides of the heath. Instead, I'd driven to a spot along the frosty lane which meant I had to walk the rest of the way in the rain. Late afternoon seemed to be losing light but then all the days were dark now as London turned rapidly into winter. It was not a good time to walk about the borough. A man had recently gone missing and was yet to be found. As I was surrounded by street crime in my first position as junior solicitor at a criminal law firm, I was not perturbed.

I pushed the family photograph, covered in plastic, deep inside my briefcase along with some handwritten journals kept by Kate Spencer, the only daughter of the house, and one by the housekeeper, Greta Gardner. Greta's journal contained a collection of various yearly expenses with some alarming family details written in the margins. Both contained valuable information entrusted to me. I noticed The Grange to my right, a well-kept home, built not far from a local landmark, Kenwood House. The Grange held some of the allure, yet I suspected hosted none of the secrets, of Hareton Hall.

The history of the Spencer family haunted me as I walked. I remembered words and snippets from the bizarre journals. For example, Heath was described as_, "a pale little boy with sharp milk teeth!" _This journal scribble was mixed with the photographs I resolved to return to their rightful owner. As I rounded the corner, I was almost as keen to talk to Greta Gardner, the housekeeper and keeper of secrets, as I was to speak with the owner of The Hall.

The heath was silent and stark in bare winter.

I'd visited during summer as a child but never with such purpose in my step. To my right and to my great relief, I saw the entrance to a pub. I'd been there with my family once, just after I'd graduated from university. I decided to warm myself and ask for directions.

The Horse and Ale used to serve delicious roast dinners and hot toddies. I hoped it hadn't changed too much in the intervening years.

I settled in front of the fire, grateful for the familiarity as I drank my hot, strong mulled wine. When the waiter asked me if I needed anything extra, I asked him for directions to Hareton Hall.

'Who wants to know?' The low, gruff voice of a man, perhaps in his thirties, spoke to me from behind one of the many sofas. He had a plate of what appeared to be lamb, dipped in gravy and a large pint of dark ale in his hand. His dog lay lovingly, sleeping at his feet, apparently unbothered by the smell of roasted meat.

'Ah, I do.'

'Really? And who might you be?'

To say he was unfriendly would be an understatement.

'I'm well, who are you?'

He almost laughed.

'I asked you first.'

'I'm Tom Bennett, the junior partner from _Bennett & Sons_. I have an appointment at Hareton Hall.'

'To see the owner?'

'Yes, and who might you be?'

'I am the owner.'

He didn't smile. He rose slowly. For a youngish man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. He looked like a hard partying insomniac. I offered him my hand and he took it obligingly. If I was trained to comment on such things, which I suppose I am, I'd say he was tall and fairly handsome. The air of sleeplessness hung over him like a cloud. He was polite yet unfriendly; he did not smile. He was unshaven; his dark shirt was unironed but expensive. He stared at me coldly.

The publican scurried off to some far flung corner of the establishment. One of the lights overhead flickered as the man moved closer to me. He picked up an implement from the fireside and stoked the flame.

I took another sip of my drink and waited for him to speak.

'Well then, it's me you've come to see. Place is empty, except for my housekeeper Greta, a few horses in the stables and the dogs.

'Perhaps I could come to Hareton Hall?'

'What for?'

'It would help if I sighted the property and it may be easier to talk there.'

'I am busy this evening. If you had come earlier as arranged…'

'I was detained. It was further away from Hampstead than I expected.'

'Even so, I don't have visitors at night. I shall arrange for you to come tomorrow morning. Twenty minutes.'

'It may take more than twenty minutes.'

The rain poured down overhead and with it the darkness of early winter. For once, I was glad as a young man, not to have to hurry back to a wife and family.

The man shrugged.

'Well, it's getting late. You can stay here tonight - for free; I own the pub. I'll send my driver to get you at nine in the morning. We can finalize the matter then.'

He smiled for the first time at the blonde, middle-aged woman who entered the room and moved softly behind the bar.

'This is Greta; she used to be the housekeeper at Hareton Hall; raised me as a child; she'll fill you in on the story. Look after him Greta and see he gets a comfortable bed.'

Greta looked at me warily.

He whistled to his dog, a large amiable Labrador who obviously worshipped his master.

The dog sat up and barked. I think his owner was used to people behaving in a similar manner.

It turned out Greta had quite a tale to tell as she chatted to me by the fireside that evening. I asked her to identify her household journal and she was pleased to do so. I marked it as "Exhibit A" in my head; it was to be a wealth of information. I had the journal open on my knee as we talked. The Spencer crest hovered above us as Greta spoke in detail about the family she'd once served. Before I retired to bed, I could not resist writing down what she said as I did not want to forget what she told me. As I offered to pay for my drinks, I was more intrigued than ever about the legends of Hareton Hall and the fate of the Spencer children who lived there, more than thirty years ago…


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_**Wild Child **_

I read Greta's words as I rested on the hotel bed. They were written in a firm, definite hand:

_February 1978 (second entry) - we were not sure what country the child originated from. When Mr Spencer brought him back from his trip, I thought he'd finally gone mad, like his ancestors. I said, 'You were searching for fossils, not people!' But he just shrugged and said, 'Well, I saw him on the street and no one claimed him so I filled in the paperwork, paid a requisite sum and now here he is. All this had happened many months before the actual collection. Perhaps the child was originally from Europe or maybe as close as Liverpool? The foundling had papers to say he was ours, signed by a solicitor, no less. He didn't speak a word that first night. His bell bottom jeans and shoes were filthy and caked with mud from the walk along the driveway. Dirt splattered on my kitchen floor. I thought it was very inconsiderate of Mr Spencer not to have put clean clothes on him but grown men rarely think of small comforts. The dark haired, six-year-old person stared at me blankly and flinched when I tried to go anywhere near him. He kicked and scratched me so hard when I went to take his jacket (where I read the "instructions") that I honestly wondered how I'd cope looking after a child in such a…state. Harrison, almost eight years the child's senior, shoved the boy when he thought no one was looking and whispered to him before leaving the house, 'Who do you think you are? Invading my home like this… I'll make you pay, charity case!'_

_Kate, who had always been naughty (a fact belied by her pretty and innocent face), and never close to her much older brother or absent socialite mother, became attached to the new boy who we named Heath and resolved to raise as part of our family… _

It was all rather formal yet strangely personal.

I'd learnt, as a child, Heath Spencer had no language and apparently very little memory of his origins. He'd certainly made up for it judging by the detailed and sophisticated legal correspondence he'd addressed to me personally and which I had spread out on the desk in my room. Heath's letters addressed the various ownership and personal scandals involving both himself and his adopted relatives in almost forensic detail. Events happened a long time ago, but the origins and complex story of the properties in question, both Hareton Hall and The Grange, involved both the Spencer and Hunt families whose paperwork I now studied. Their generational feuds had been the talk of the firm, behind closed doors, of course.

According to family tradition, the Spencer children were sent away to school the year they turned twelve. However, the friendship between the two youngest children began much earlier, with a whisper. It was as if Kate was the first to know, although his adopted father must have suspected. There was something different about Heath.

The first night the child arrived, Kate wandered up to him when he was left alone in the kitchen and the little boy hissed at her, baring his tiny, white incisor fangs. Kate scowled then smiled and moved towards the small boy, rather than rejecting him. As if he were some exotic pet, she tried to pat his head. The boy, suddenly ashamed of his behaviour, covered his mouth. Heath had only recently learned how to recede his little fangs but sometimes they came out when he was frightened or stressed. Kate took his hand and led him upstairs.

When they were in the play room, she asked him to explain more. It was their secret, she told him. Kate loved to have secrets. The little boy didn't know what to tell her.

'I was born this way,' he whispered.

His biological father had kept notes but Mr Spencer wanted proof. After many secretive tests with a Vampire specialist on Harley Street it was explained to Mr Spencer that the child had a rare condition. There was a line of Spanish vampires from thousands of years ago that he possibly descended from through his mother. His blood type was unknown. What they did ascertain was that the child might grow out of his ways and never fully mature into a "blood sucker" as the specialist called his "breed". He also warned Mr Spencer, "Tell no one." Fearing society would reject his new son, Mr Spencer agreed.

Heath was told his cravings for blood would not reach full maturity until he did (at around eighteen) and in the meantime, he could be easily sustained with a diet high in protein and iron. He would keep ageing until then. As the venom in his blood was diluted, he would be given protection from sun. His image would appear in photographs and mirrors until it began to fade in adulthood. Kate's father had been assured by the vampire specialist it was completely safe for Heath to go to church and be around other children.

Mr Spencer was given a list of instructions similar to the ones the boy arrived with; that he had to be careful of the child's fair skin in the sun, (although a small amount wouldn't hurt as long as he took his daily supplements and wore a pendant protecting him from daylight). According to the notes, the child's mother was horrified the baby had crackled and almost burnt in the light. Heath had also tried to bite her when nursing. Finally, unable to cope, his mother had left him with Spanish nuns when he was just three months old. She had placed the protective amulet around the baby's neck along with a kiss as she broke down and put him in a basket outside the gates of the orphanage. As he grew, incorrigible, the child daily escaped and ran himself ragged along the Spanish streets. That was how Mr Spencer found him, pale and hungry for protein, like a wild kitten.

After the child arrived at Hareton Hall his incisors were painlessly filed down during regular check-ups at the family dentist and life resumed as normal. Life for Heath was a regular routine of vitamin taking, avoiding the sun, wearing his amulet (even in the bath) and craving roast dinners (his favourite). The child was deemed eccentric and wild but no one except Mr Spencer, Kate and Heath knew he was actually different. He had cravings for cooked, red meat, a desire to sleep half the day and stay up all night, but those were habits and slowly, Heath conformed to the ways of the household.

On one occasion, he had been caught off-guard when Kate's mother had walked in on the child playing with his train set and Heath, suddenly frightened, sensed an intruder. He turned round and hissed, before realizing the full impact of what he had done. His new mother fled from the room screaming, "He's not normal! He's just not normal!" Heath tried to apologize. The woman wouldn't listen. She packed her bags and wanted to take Kate with her; the little girl refused to go.

After Kate's mother left Hareton Hall, her father withdrew from the world. Mr Spencer retired from normal life and began to live in relative seclusion. He went for long walks during the day and took trips abroad, collecting plants to study and write about in his home office.

Growing up, Kate and Heath ran wild. As the years wore on, Mr Spencer became a hermit and slept often, worked in the garden and read the Bible fireside in the afternoons. One by one, the staff began to give notice, except the housekeeper Greta, who'd been with the family since she was sixteen. Greta had more to do than keep track of the wayward children who were soon expelled from the local primary school for "non-attendance, unruly behaviour" and (worst), "attempted biting," something Kate hotly denied as Heath looked on sheepishly.

Although Greta knew Heath was unusual, he'd managed not to reveal his secret to her. There had to be something wrong with him, Greta thought, but nothing that boarding school wouldn't fix. Besides, no one was perfect.

Although Mr Spencer felt especially partial to his youngest children, he began counting the days until they were old enough to be sent to Yardley Mansion School in Scotland, a Spencer family tradition. Perhaps they would learn something useful about discipline in such a prestigious establishment. After all, it would be nearly impossible to escape lessons there and Heath's condition seemed almost entirely under control, his penchant for roast dinners aside. But after all, who except vegetarians did not like a good roast?

When Heath grew stronger (useful against Harrison) and his inclinations grew rougher, he hid them and learned to control his desire to sometimes nip Kate on her leg or arm. In fact, he'd be horrified if she knew he once imagined tasting the pretty little vein in her wrist.

He'd educated himself and knew biting was wrong and never in a billion years would he wish to hurt the person he loved most in the world. Heath religiously took his supplements, wore his amulet and kept himself sustained with his favourite juice and meat. As he grew older, his cravings were not subsiding quite as easily.

Heath was closer to Kate than anyone. Apart from Kate's father, whom Heath regarded warmly, she was the only friend he'd ever had. Well, except for Greta, who, after a faltering start, grew to look upon Heath with great fondness. At first Heath didn't like Greta. She was always huffing and puffing in the kitchen about the extra work and ignored him when he asked lots of questions until he stopped talking altogether and then she said things like, "Has the cat got your tongue, young man?"

Harrison was at home for half-term holidays when the children started playing a particularly savage game of sardines. Heath had been caught running through the attic by Harrison and was beaten with a stick. Heath then (unsuccessfully) tried to drive his homemade stake into the older boy's leg. After witnessing Harrison's cruelty, Greta had become Heath's ally. She told Mr Spencer who reprimanded Harrison for picking on the smaller child and withdrew the older boy's financial privileges for a month. Harrison was angry; the boy was half his height but twice as strong.

'I'll get you back for this, charity case,' the older boy said as he again hit Heath when nobody else was about. There was enough force in that clip to make Heath's ear bleed. Heath bared his teeth, as he waited for the strength in his venom to take over. Kate swiped her elder brother and before long the three of them were wrestling, pushing, kicking and shoving each other until the little girl was almost squashed in the pile beneath. This just led the two boys to start fighting all over again. Heath bit Harrison on the wrist and spat out the taste just as quickly. Harrison called him a "little animal". Kate screamed so hard Greta had to race up the stairs to break them up.

Harrison would have been sent back to school to suffer the long weekend alone before term started but Greta noticed spots on all three children as she was sending them out of the room separately. They had developed chicken pox, which Harrison blamed on the local "state school scum" - Heath and his bratty little sister's school friends.

'Oh be quiet, Harrison!' Greta warned. 'I think it is far more likely that you carried the chicken pox back with you from that posh boys' school your father pays the earth for…'

Chastened, Harrison went back to bed moaning and demanding more sympathy. Both Harrison and Kate, spoiled before their mother left, demanded to be waited on hand and foot but not Heath. He had lain there, expecting very little sympathy (eyeing the specially delivered basket of blood oranges), sleeping most of the day and happy to gnaw on a chicken leg when it was given. Because he was a stoic little boy, Heath had won Greta over. She kept the best treats for him - fruit and sandwiches for his lunch (the boy always left the bread and ate the meat) - fussing over him like a young mother. This too, bred Harrison's resentment. Heath, for the first time in his young life, basked in the adoration the females of Hareton Hall gave him, and he grew into a tall, robust child whom Greta predicted would be, "a real lady killer one day".

At eight years old, that day hadn't quite arrived.


	4. Kate and Heath Chapter 3

Wuthering Nights by Summer Day

Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer: 

Wuthering Nights

Copyright © 2012 Summer Day

All rights reserved worldwide.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without the express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

*Note to Readers: UK Spelling / Punctuation used in Wuthering Nights

**WUTHERING NIGHTS **

**Prologue**

**From the journal of Greta Gardner, February 1978**

_The boy arrived at night, wrapped in a blanket. He was carried by his adopted father who placed him on the kitchen floor next to me. His big blue eyes stared out from under his wild black hair. He shrank from the fire, he shrank from my touch, yet his skin was cold as ice… _

_He arrived with a list of instructions tucked into the pocket of his jacket. _

_Eats - mostly chicken and oranges (likes: roast chicken, blood oranges and plums). _

_Drinks - mostly water and citrus juice._

_First warning - do not let him go in the sun often as he burns easily. _

_Second warning - make sure he wears his necklace amulet (a parting gift from his biological mother). He screams if you take it. _

_Final Warning - do not let him go out at night alone. _

_As a small boy (just walking) he had a tendency to wander off, and many times staff at the orphanage were unable to find the little fellow for hours. Once, he was found hanging upside down from the roof of the school gymnasium, like a bat. The only giveaway was the drip drip drip of juice as he stuffed his baby face with blood oranges._

_His file was then stamped: Special Needs. _

_I shook my head as I read this. I was sure Mr Spencer had finally lost his mind dragging the mite all the way back from Spain. It was many years before I learnt the full extent of his malady._

**Chapter One**

_**Hareton Hall**_

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London, Present Day**_

When I saw the house in the fragile light, I could barely make out the lines of gothic architecture in the morning mist. I'd heard whispers about the strangeness of the place. I was told that I risked my life going there; that the owner brandished a gun and roamed the heath looking for his lost love. Music and chatter, laughter and screams could be heard miles away in the night. Neighbours said the lovers who'd inhabited Hareton Hall lived there still, as young and beautiful as they ever were; haunted.

The family, the Spencers, originated in Yorkshire and could trace their lineage back a thousand years. Their secrets wove through history and time and family portraits. I held in my hand a photograph of Mr Spencer, an aristocrat with an interest in archaeology, returning from a trip to Spain with a small child. Among other documents, there was a photograph of the entire family, arriving to greet Mr Spencer and his newly adopted son at the airport. The family were generationally wealthy. Mr Spencer had an interest in Botany. According to my documents, he kept to himself and his study. Within the file, I also retained the marriage notice of the daughter, Kate. This was long before the family feud that had ignited decades of dispute.

In the picture was a beautiful mother with ink black curls. The older teenage boy, Harrison, had a scowl on his face and headphones on his ears. He appeared tuned out from the proceedings. The girl, her dark curls tied with an unruly red ribbon, revealed an adorable cherub face. Aged six, she peeked out from behind her mother and stole the picture. It was this child's face I remembered long after I'd set the image aside.

As I walked along the winding road that led from Hampstead Heath towards Hareton Hall, I passed another magnificent home, The Grange. This was a Georgian mansion hidden behind a maze of orange trees as opposed to The Hall where photographs showed gargoyles at its entrance. The signatures I was required to collect involved the ownership of both properties.

I'd been advised not to try to park along the icy road that connected the houses on opposite sides of the heath. Instead, I'd driven to a spot along the frosty lane which meant I had to walk the rest of the way in the rain. Late afternoon seemed to be losing light but then all the days were dark now as London turned rapidly into winter. It was not a good time to walk about the borough. A man had recently gone missing and was yet to be found. As I was surrounded by street crime in my first position as junior solicitor at a criminal law firm, I was not perturbed.

I pushed the family photograph, covered in plastic, deep inside my briefcase along with some handwritten journals kept by Kate Spencer, the only daughter of the house, and one by the housekeeper, Greta Gardner. Greta's journal contained a collection of various yearly expenses with some alarming family details written in the margins. Both contained valuable information entrusted to me. I noticed The Grange to my right, a well-kept home, built not far from a local landmark, Kenwood House. The Grange held some of the allure, yet I suspected hosted none of the secrets, of Hareton Hall.

The history of the Spencer family haunted me as I walked. I remembered words and snippets from the bizarre journals. For example, Heath was described as_, "a pale little boy with sharp milk teeth!" _This journal scribble was mixed with the photographs I resolved to return to their rightful owner. As I rounded the corner, I was almost as keen to talk to Greta Gardner, the housekeeper and keeper of secrets, as I was to speak with the owner of The Hall.

The heath was silent and stark in bare winter.

I'd visited during summer as a child but never with such purpose in my step. To my right and to my great relief, I saw the entrance to a pub. I'd been there with my family once, just after I'd graduated from university. I decided to warm myself and ask for directions.

The Horse and Ale used to serve delicious roast dinners and hot toddies. I hoped it hadn't changed too much in the intervening years.

I settled in front of the fire, grateful for the familiarity as I drank my hot, strong mulled wine. When the waiter asked me if I needed anything extra, I asked him for directions to Hareton Hall.

'Who wants to know?' The low, gruff voice of a man, perhaps in his thirties, spoke to me from behind one of the many sofas. He had a plate of what appeared to be lamb, dipped in gravy and a large pint of dark ale in his hand. His dog lay lovingly, sleeping at his feet, apparently unbothered by the smell of roasted meat.

'Ah, I do.'

'Really? And who might you be?'

To say he was unfriendly would be an understatement.

'I'm well, who are you?'

He almost laughed.

'I asked you first.'

'I'm Tom Bennett, the junior partner from _Bennett & Sons_. I have an appointment at Hareton Hall.'

'To see the owner?'

'Yes, and who might you be?'

'I am the owner.'

He didn't smile. He rose slowly. For a youngish man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. He looked like a hard partying insomniac. I offered him my hand and he took it obligingly. If I was trained to comment on such things, which I suppose I am, I'd say he was tall and fairly handsome. The air of sleeplessness hung over him like a cloud. He was polite yet unfriendly; he did not smile. He was unshaven; his dark shirt was unironed but expensive. He stared at me coldly.

The publican scurried off to some far flung corner of the establishment. One of the lights overhead flickered as the man moved closer to me. He picked up an implement from the fireside and stoked the flame.

I took another sip of my drink and waited for him to speak.

'Well then, it's me you've come to see. Place is empty, except for my housekeeper Greta, a few horses in the stables and the dogs.

'Perhaps I could come to Hareton Hall?'

'What for?'

'It would help if I sighted the property and it may be easier to talk there.'

'I am busy this evening. If you had come earlier as arranged…'

'I was detained. It was further away from Hampstead than I expected.'

'Even so, I don't have visitors at night. I shall arrange for you to come tomorrow morning. Twenty minutes.'

'It may take more than twenty minutes.'

The rain poured down overhead and with it the darkness of early winter. For once, I was glad as a young man, not to have to hurry back to a wife and family.

The man shrugged.

'Well, it's getting late. You can stay here tonight - for free; I own the pub. I'll send my driver to get you at nine in the morning. We can finalize the matter then.'

He smiled for the first time at the blonde, middle-aged woman who entered the room and moved softly behind the bar.

'This is Greta; she used to be the housekeeper at Hareton Hall; raised me as a child; she'll fill you in on the story. Look after him Greta and see he gets a comfortable bed.'

Greta looked at me warily.

He whistled to his dog, a large amiable Labrador who obviously worshipped his master.

The dog sat up and barked. I think his owner was used to people behaving in a similar manner.

It turned out Greta had quite a tale to tell as she chatted to me by the fireside that evening. I asked her to identify her household journal and she was pleased to do so. I marked it as "Exhibit A" in my head; it was to be a wealth of information. I had the journal open on my knee as we talked. The Spencer crest hovered above us as Greta spoke in detail about the family she'd once served. Before I retired to bed, I could not resist writing down what she said as I did not want to forget what she told me. As I offered to pay for my drinks, I was more intrigued than ever about the legends of Hareton Hall and the fate of the Spencer children who lived there, more than thirty years ago…

**Chapter Two**

_**Wild Child **_

I read Greta's words as I rested on the hotel bed. They were written in a firm, definite hand:

_February 1978 (second entry) - we were not sure what country the child originated from. When Mr Spencer brought him back from his trip, I thought he'd finally gone mad, like his ancestors. I said, 'You were searching for fossils, not people!' But he just shrugged and said, 'Well, I saw him on the street and no one claimed him so I filled in the paperwork, paid a requisite sum and now here he is. All this had happened many months before the actual collection. Perhaps the child was originally from Europe or maybe as close as Liverpool? The foundling had papers to say he was ours, signed by a solicitor, no less. He didn't speak a word that first night. His bell bottom jeans and shoes were filthy and caked with mud from the walk along the driveway. Dirt splattered on my kitchen floor. I thought it was very inconsiderate of Mr Spencer not to have put clean clothes on him but grown men rarely think of small comforts. The dark haired, six-year-old person stared at me blankly and flinched when I tried to go anywhere near him. He kicked and scratched me so hard when I went to take his jacket (where I read the "instructions") that I honestly wondered how I'd cope looking after a child in such a…state. Harrison, almost eight years the child's senior, shoved the boy when he thought no one was looking and whispered to him before leaving the house, 'Who do you think you are? Invading my home like this… I'll make you pay, charity case!'_

_Kate, who had always been naughty (a fact belied by her pretty and innocent face), and never close to her much older brother or absent socialite mother, became attached to the new boy who we named Heath and resolved to raise as part of our family… _

It was all rather formal yet strangely personal.

I'd learnt, as a child, Heath Spencer had no language and apparently very little memory of his origins. He'd certainly made up for it judging by the detailed and sophisticated legal correspondence he'd addressed to me personally and which I had spread out on the desk in my room. Heath's letters addressed the various ownership and personal scandals involving both himself and his adopted relatives in almost forensic detail. Events happened a long time ago, but the origins and complex story of the properties in question, both Hareton Hall and The Grange, involved both the Spencer and Hunt families whose paperwork I now studied. Their generational feuds had been the talk of the firm, behind closed doors, of course.

According to family tradition, the Spencer children were sent away to school the year they turned twelve. However, the friendship between the two youngest children began much earlier, with a whisper. It was as if Kate was the first to know, although his adopted father must have suspected. There was something different about Heath.

The first night the child arrived, Kate wandered up to him when he was left alone in the kitchen and the little boy hissed at her, baring his tiny, white incisor fangs. Kate scowled then smiled and moved towards the small boy, rather than rejecting him. As if he were some exotic pet, she tried to pat his head. The boy, suddenly ashamed of his behaviour, covered his mouth. Heath had only recently learned how to recede his little fangs but sometimes they came out when he was frightened or stressed. Kate took his hand and led him upstairs.

When they were in the play room, she asked him to explain more. It was their secret, she told him. Kate loved to have secrets. The little boy didn't know what to tell her.

'I was born this way,' he whispered.

His biological father had kept notes but Mr Spencer wanted proof. After many secretive tests with a Vampire specialist on Harley Street it was explained to Mr Spencer that the child had a rare condition. There was a line of Spanish vampires from thousands of years ago that he possibly descended from through his mother. His blood type was unknown. What they did ascertain was that the child might grow out of his ways and never fully mature into a "blood sucker" as the specialist called his "breed". He also warned Mr Spencer, "Tell no one." Fearing society would reject his new son, Mr Spencer agreed.

Heath was told his cravings for blood would not reach full maturity until he did (at around eighteen) and in the meantime, he could be easily sustained with a diet high in protein and iron. He would keep ageing until then. As the venom in his blood was diluted, he would be given protection from sun. His image would appear in photographs and mirrors until it began to fade in adulthood. Kate's father had been assured by the vampire specialist it was completely safe for Heath to go to church and be around other children.

Mr Spencer was given a list of instructions similar to the ones the boy arrived with; that he had to be careful of the child's fair skin in the sun, (although a small amount wouldn't hurt as long as he took his daily supplements and wore a pendant protecting him from daylight). According to the notes, the child's mother was horrified the baby had crackled and almost burnt in the light. Heath had also tried to bite her when nursing. Finally, unable to cope, his mother had left him with Spanish nuns when he was just three months old. She had placed the protective amulet around the baby's neck along with a kiss as she broke down and put him in a basket outside the gates of the orphanage. As he grew, incorrigible, the child daily escaped and ran himself ragged along the Spanish streets. That was how Mr Spencer found him, pale and hungry for protein, like a wild kitten.

After the child arrived at Hareton Hall his incisors were painlessly filed down during regular check-ups at the family dentist and life resumed as normal. Life for Heath was a regular routine of vitamin taking, avoiding the sun, wearing his amulet (even in the bath) and craving roast dinners (his favourite). The child was deemed eccentric and wild but no one except Mr Spencer, Kate and Heath knew he was actually different. He had cravings for cooked, red meat, a desire to sleep half the day and stay up all night, but those were habits and slowly, Heath conformed to the ways of the household.

On one occasion, he had been caught off-guard when Kate's mother had walked in on the child playing with his train set and Heath, suddenly frightened, sensed an intruder. He turned round and hissed, before realizing the full impact of what he had done. His new mother fled from the room screaming, "He's not normal! He's just not normal!" Heath tried to apologize. The woman wouldn't listen. She packed her bags and wanted to take Kate with her; the little girl refused to go.

After Kate's mother left Hareton Hall, her father withdrew from the world. Mr Spencer retired from normal life and began to live in relative seclusion. He went for long walks during the day and took trips abroad, collecting plants to study and write about in his home office.

Growing up, Kate and Heath ran wild. As the years wore on, Mr Spencer became a hermit and slept often, worked in the garden and read the Bible fireside in the afternoons. One by one, the staff began to give notice, except the housekeeper Greta, who'd been with the family since she was sixteen. Greta had more to do than keep track of the wayward children who were soon expelled from the local primary school for "non-attendance, unruly behaviour" and (worst), "attempted biting," something Kate hotly denied as Heath looked on sheepishly.

Although Greta knew Heath was unusual, he'd managed not to reveal his secret to her. There had to be something wrong with him, Greta thought, but nothing that boarding school wouldn't fix. Besides, no one was perfect.

Although Mr Spencer felt especially partial to his youngest children, he began counting the days until they were old enough to be sent to Yardley Mansion School in Scotland, a Spencer family tradition. Perhaps they would learn something useful about discipline in such a prestigious establishment. After all, it would be nearly impossible to escape lessons there and Heath's condition seemed almost entirely under control, his penchant for roast dinners aside. But after all, who except vegetarians did not like a good roast?

When Heath grew stronger (useful against Harrison) and his inclinations grew rougher, he hid them and learned to control his desire to sometimes nip Kate on her leg or arm. In fact, he'd be horrified if she knew he once imagined tasting the pretty little vein in her wrist.

He'd educated himself and knew biting was wrong and never in a billion years would he wish to hurt the person he loved most in the world. Heath religiously took his supplements, wore his amulet and kept himself sustained with his favourite juice and meat. As he grew older, his cravings were not subsiding quite as easily.

Heath was closer to Kate than anyone. Apart from Kate's father, whom Heath regarded warmly, she was the only friend he'd ever had. Well, except for Greta, who, after a faltering start, grew to look upon Heath with great fondness. At first Heath didn't like Greta. She was always huffing and puffing in the kitchen about the extra work and ignored him when he asked lots of questions until he stopped talking altogether and then she said things like, "Has the cat got your tongue, young man?"

Harrison was at home for half-term holidays when the children started playing a particularly savage game of sardines. Heath had been caught running through the attic by Harrison and was beaten with a stick. Heath then (unsuccessfully) tried to drive his homemade stake into the older boy's leg. After witnessing Harrison's cruelty, Greta had become Heath's ally. She told Mr Spencer who reprimanded Harrison for picking on the smaller child and withdrew the older boy's financial privileges for a month. Harrison was angry; the boy was half his height but twice as strong.

'I'll get you back for this, charity case,' the older boy said as he again hit Heath when nobody else was about. There was enough force in that clip to make Heath's ear bleed. Heath bared his teeth, as he waited for the strength in his venom to take over. Kate swiped her elder brother and before long the three of them were wrestling, pushing, kicking and shoving each other until the little girl was almost squashed in the pile beneath. This just led the two boys to start fighting all over again. Heath bit Harrison on the wrist and spat out the taste just as quickly. Harrison called him a "little animal". Kate screamed so hard Greta had to race up the stairs to break them up.

Harrison would have been sent back to school to suffer the long weekend alone before term started but Greta noticed spots on all three children as she was sending them out of the room separately. They had developed chicken pox, which Harrison blamed on the local "state school scum" - Heath and his bratty little sister's school friends.

'Oh be quiet, Harrison!' Greta warned. 'I think it is far more likely that you carried the chicken pox back with you from that posh boys' school your father pays the earth for…'

Chastened, Harrison went back to bed moaning and demanding more sympathy. Both Harrison and Kate, spoiled before their mother left, demanded to be waited on hand and foot but not Heath. He had lain there, expecting very little sympathy (eyeing the specially delivered basket of blood oranges), sleeping most of the day and happy to gnaw on a chicken leg when it was given. Because he was a stoic little boy, Heath had won Greta over. She kept the best treats for him - fruit and sandwiches for his lunch (the boy always left the bread and ate the meat) - fussing over him like a young mother. This too, bred Harrison's resentment. Heath, for the first time in his young life, basked in the adoration the females of Hareton Hall gave him, and he grew into a tall, robust child whom Greta predicted would be, "a real lady killer one day".

At eight years old, that day hadn't quite arrived.

**Chapter Three**

_**Kate and Heath**_

After Mr and Mrs Spencer separated, Hareton Hall was never the same.__Mutual loneliness, secrets and headstrong natures had drawn Heath and Kate into an alliance. The days went by and as they grew together, the children craved freedom.

One cold day in November Kate and Heath lay side by side on Hampstead Heath making starfish in the snow. There was no sun as usual. Their arms and legs reached out forming windmills in the ice, so that their fingers almost touched.

'Kate?' the small boy asked as he sat up and wrapped his scarf around his neck and ears. He had dark hair and blue eyes and was as strikingly good looking as the girl, with her midnight curls and icy, reddened cheeks. Both of them had perfectly white teeth from their frequent trips to the dentist and Heath, in eighteen months, had learnt how to control his fangs, perfectly. Now that he was a little older, he never revealed them in public and they didn't need to be filed anymore.

'Yes,' she replied.

'I wish Harrison would stop picking on us.'

'Me too, he's…mean. Every time he comes home from school I dread it. He takes over the house and pinches me and locks me in my room when no one is about. Ever since mother…I can't say the words,' she said as she put her small hand to her mouth and Heath noticed a tear drying on her face. The recent abandonment of Kate by her mother had not overly concerned Heath, since the woman had had nothing to do with him on a daily basis and had shown little interest in his upkeep. But he understood how it felt to be left and reached out to commiserate with Kate.

That first night, after Mrs Spencer left, Kate and Heath had played with the train set until, eyes heavy, they fell asleep together on the floor. Greta had placed a pillow under each small head. Ever after, they slept near each other or on opposite sides of the wall. They made hand puppet shows in the moonlight on the walls of the play room and Heath always let Kate win at games.

'Don't cry,' Heath told Kate that day in the Hampstead meadow. 'You have to be strong. If you cry, your tears will turn to crystal in this weather and freeze on your face. Imagine how awful that would look. Yuck.'

Kate laughed. 'Perhaps it's for the best. You can save my crystal tears in a jar,' she joked.

'I don't like it when you cry,' Heath said, wiping the tears from her face.

Kate sat up and sniffed into her coat sleeve.

The boy took her mittened hand.

'Never cry again, Kate. We must be stronger than that, stronger than them.'

'Stronger than this?'

Kate rolled up the edge of her jeans to where her knee showed the beginnings of a scab and a remarkably deep bruise.

'It happened when Harrison kicked me because I wouldn't give him the riding whip father bought me for my birthday. I was afraid he'd whip Hero too much.'

To her surprise, Heath moved forward, leaned over her leg, touched the scab and moved closer, almost as if he was going to lick it.

'That's gross,' Kate said, 'you were going to kiss it better like Greta would. , I hate kisses, unless I'm the one giving them!' the girl announced, pulling her leg closer.

Heath looked very dejected and turned his face away.

Kate smiled; glad to have evoked such a strong reaction. She was 'quite the little exhibitionist', as Greta told her once.

'I'm only kidding! Gotcha…' Kate smiled.

Heath grudgingly turned to face her.

Kate covered her knee and changed the subject. 'I heard you playing guitar this morning. I can hear you from my room when I wake up. You play much better than Harrison.'

Heath beamed with pride. He wasn't used to hearing praise before he'd moved to The Hall. His only real problem was his adopted brother.

As if reading his thoughts, Kate said, 'Never mind, we'll get Harrison back one of these days. C'mon, I'll race you to the bus stop. I found some coins in Harrison's coat pocket when he was sleeping. Now we can go and buy sweeties.'

Heath didn't want to disappoint her with his unnatural lack of desire for sugary lollies.

Instead, Heath picked up a stick and used it to plough through the snow quickly. He withheld the urge, like small children sometimes have, to bash the flower beds because he was fairly sure Kate wouldn't approve. In this way, the children civilized and complimented one another's personalities.

'One day, when we're grown up, I'll take care of you, Kate,' he said.

'Silly, you take care of me already.'

'When we're grown up we'll get married.'

'Even sillier, we're brother and sister.'

'Not really. We're not actually related.'

The boy was annoyed his suggestion had not been taken seriously. He reached into his pocket and dragged out a remarkably fresh, although slightly crumpled, wildflower.

'I've been saving this all morning to give to you,' he said, handing her the daisy.

'Thank you,' she said, dismissively. Kate was already thinking about how easily they could avoid going to school and go straight to the sweet shop instead.

The boy picked up his brown leather satchel and headed to the bus stop, ignoring Kate as he walked past her. 'That will teach her a lesson,' he thought.

'Stop! Now you are being the silly one,' the girl said. 'We both know we're not really brother and sister.'

Heath smiled at Kate as she took his hand. The frozen winds played with their hair and both children forgot their conversation as they ran to stop the bus as it moved forward. The little boy was amazed at how fast he'd begun to run, almost merging in double quick time across the meadow. He had to wait at the bus stop for the girl to catch up.

**Chapter Four**

_**The Grange**_

It was so cold Greta noticed Kate's breath first as she entered the kitchen and placed her school bag on the floor. Heath dawdled behind his eye-catching counterpart. Kate was meticulous about her appearance. Her perfect curls lay in bunches behind her ears, tied in royal blue ribbons, the colours of her school. Her long socks were not rippled as other children's were. In fact, the uniform she wore was in good condition, unstained and nearly uncrushed. Greta looked at Kate again. She knew that after her mother had fled, literally fled the house one night to go gallivanting around Europe with a man she'd met in rehab, Kate had become unmanageable - but bunking school? She really didn't know what to do about this.

From the moment Kate had been born her Papa had indulged her every childish whim, much to the displeasure of her mother who worried that the child would be spoiled and difficult, like Harrison. Well, he was in boarding school where Kate would surely be sent soon, just as her older brother had been.

As for the "wild child", as Greta thought of him, he looked completely unkempt – shirt hanging out, hair unbrushed, knees scratched. He ran upstairs to Kate's bedroom (a converted ballroom) or to his own, the more modestly sized room opposite, to play video games and listen to music. The children would lounge around on the floor (strewn with the striped wrappers of Kate's favourite boiled sweets) in the afternoons. They ate and listened to music, hardly bothering to even attempt their homework.

Heath had long ago discovered the path around the side of the house, through the kitchen door where the new au pair was standing and peeling potatoes for dinner. He fled past their elderly gardener and crept inside the kitchen, thinking he might sneak past, but Greta was too quick. She grabbed him by the hands.

'Wait.'

'What Greta?'

'Don't say "what", I know what you've been doing, or rather not doing.'

'You just said "what".'

'That's not what I meant.'

'Said it again…'

'Oh, you little rascal!'

Heath sighed.

'What is it Greta?'

'You haven't been to school, have you? You and Kate have been gallivanting on the High Street. I can't believe you've not been detained by police! The meadow must be too freezing even for both of you, scamps. And look at that bruise on your leg, Kate.'

Kate moved behind the bench protectively. She didn't want Greta to have too much knowledge about the behind-the-scenes household warfare.

'If that's Harrison's doing, I told you to tell me if he ever tries to hit either of you again! He's twice your age. Honestly, I don't know what this family has come to ever since your mother left. I'll be calling social services next. Or they'll be calling me.'

'Oh don't do that Greta. I just knocked into something when I was out riding…at pony club.'

Heath looked at Kate quickly, knowing if they told on Harrison again, it would only make matters worse the next time he came home.

'I told you to tell me if that older brother of yours so much as raises his voice. He wouldn't dare do it in my presence. But that doesn't give either of you an excuse to avoid school. It's a good thing Harrison is going away to University. By then, he won't even be coming home for holidays…'

Heath and Kate were too quick. Greta talked on whilst they ate everything on the kitchen countertop behind her.

When Greta stopped talking, Kate took a bottle of fizzy drink and Heath grabbed a packet of Parma ham and they raced up the stairs, rejoicing in the time when their play room was empty of responsible adults (almost always). They had the whole ancient second floor to themselves in the afternoons. They could play their games or crawl outside, along the ledge that connected them to the ground and the road that led them to The Grange. Heath liked to go fishing in the stream and learned to make an open fire and cook the food on it. He was more and more interested in living in this natural, primal way, even at such a young age.

Annabelle and Edmund Hunt were the same age as Heath and Kate and their nearest neighbours. They were so stuck up neither Heath nor Kate had ever spoken to them. The blonde girl had poked her tongue out at Kate once during ballet lessons at the local church hall. Neither of the girls had spoken to each another since.

Kate and Heath lived in a world of their own - a world with a secret language and two rooms that adjoined each other with archaic light fittings, tall ceilings and furniture passed down through generations.There was a shabby opulence surrounding their secret society of two. Kate's room had a canopied bed with cream sheets and a blanket and an old fashioned cream lace doll.

On occasions when the neighbourhood children were invited to tea, the doll's house intrigued all of Kate's jealous little acquaintances (mainly from school). But Kate never let Heath catch her staring at the perfect dolls in their pristine world longingly. She knew he'd think envy beneath her.

As he grew older, he became tougher and more boisterous, wanting to be outside more than inside which, Greta reasoned, was only natural in an almost twelve-year old boy. Heath remembered little of his origins. It was as if he'd only ever existed in Kate's world, something he knew to be untrue. Yet Kate's father was the only father he remembered. Mr Spencer had been kind to him so he loved him as he loved Kate. But he knew her father was not his real father and that the "blood" running through his veins had some kind of magic in it. He felt different to other boys his age - happier roaming the woods than sitting in a classroom.

Harrison, in his final year of school, was still a problem. Once, when he was home from school for a weekend and Mr Spencer was at a business conference in Brussels, Greta was called away for the afternoon. Kate's older brother rounded up the children after she left and locked them together in the attic after inviting some of his older school friends round to party. Harrison thought it would be fun to terrify the "little kids". Neither Kate nor Heath rewarded him with their tears but there had been an all-out fight in the hallway after the children had somehow managed to break the lock. Harrison hadn't expected this but it was the last time he underestimated Heath's strength.

When Kate's father arrived home early, only to discover Heath and Kate amidst a mess of teen partying and chaos, he hit the roof. Mr Spencer packed Harrison off to the strictest boy's boarding school in the South of England to complete his finals. It was a place where corporal punishment was yet to be banned another reason for the older brother to harbour resentment against the smaller children. They were soon to be packed off to Scotland, to a co-educational school, strict but far less rigid than where Harrison was going.

It was summer by then; Mr Spencer had grown frail just as Heath and Kate grew stronger and taller.

Hampstead was quiet. It was as if the entire borough had gone on holiday. Heath had taken to staying outside but on one particular rainy and overcast day, Kate took an entire chicken and a jug of orange juice out of the fridge and set out lunch in the upstairs playroom.

They sat together, enjoying their meal that last Saturday before they were due to board the train to Scotland. Both Kate and Heath had grown more studious in preparation for boarding school. They even finished reading the required list of books, lying on their backs, in the window seats of the playroom. Kate smiled at Heath - sometimes she thought her father had brought Heath home to be her exclusive friend.

September arrived after an endless summer of reading and night swimming in the indoor pool. The day before they were due to leave for Scotland, bright sun shone through the bay windows. Heath, uncomfortable, pulled his amulet close to his chest. His eyes felt sensitive to the light.

'C'mon children,' Greta said, wanting to make their last day at Hareton Hall memorable. 'Rise and shine. It's a lovely day. Why don't we all take a picnic outside and go to Hampstead Heath? School doesn't start until Monday. C'mon, get dressed.'

The children were excited as they pulled on their shoes.

In the parklands, Greta spread the checked blanket out on the lavender field under an umbrella and the children hungrily heaped food on plates. Heath got bitten by ants but barely made a peep even when Greta soothed his calf with warm tea. The boy had never known such care and in all his young years, never seen a spread of such magnificence. He ate three pieces of turkey, a chicken leg, ham, a left over chop, a slice of bacon and a huge glass of orange juice. Kate and Greta drank tea and ate most of the cucumber sandwiches.

Afterwards, the children went running to the ponds to feed the ducks. As Greta lay reading a magazine, Kate and Heath discovered the hidden conservatory in a secluded part of the park. It was like being in another world, one far removed from London or Spain or family fighting or anywhere they had ever known - a glass palace with a covered in roof and shards of dappled, muted light (not enough to make Heath's skin burn). The building was filled with remarkable tropical trees and flowers growing in an adjusted temperature. There were even garden chairs to sit on and stare in wonderment at the magical surroundings. Both children thought the same thing; that they'd found a remarkable secret, a place where they could hide…and meet.

**Chapter Five**

_**Edmund and Annabelle**_

This secluded section of Hampstead Heath also led to a hidden laneway that attached Hareton Hall to The Grange. Kate and Heath ran down the lane and it brought them out in the garden of the neighbouring property. They laughed when they saw their neighbours, Edmund and Annabelle, in the distance. Viewed through the low, floor-length windows of the Grange, the Hunt siblings were taking private dancing lessons. Heath had never seen a ballet class and thought the whole thing was hysterically funny. Kate thought it was rather beautiful, but she would never admit that. The Grange was a world beyond billowing cream curtains where all seemed tranquil and safe. When the dance teacher tried to demonstrate with Edmund, how to partner, Heath literally fell on the ground laughing.

'Who's out there?' Edmund shouted, turning towards the window. Heath and Kate crouched out of sight, beneath the sill.

'Mind you keep your eyes up here while we are dancing,' the woman, wearing leg warmers and a tight hair bun, scolded him. Edmund reluctantly looked away. Annabelle glanced up when the teacher wasn't looking and noticed two children. The boy looked vaguely familiar to her, about the same age, running away from the house in the long grass. The girl tumbled in the heather and before long they were laughing and running, fading into the meadow.

If anyone had asked, Annabelle would have described them as the opposite of her and her brother; free. The blonde girl wished she could join them. Instead, her glacial, childish image, secured in tight ballet slippers and pink ribbons, her unsmiling yet lovely face, mocked her in the mirror.

That night, Heath lay awake under the covers of his bed, his school trunk packed, his uniforms tagged with his initials, perfectly starched and ironed. The summer wind outside howled through the trees and rain fell softly on the roof. He could see shadows of the branches outside. A breeze swept through the heath across the pond and along the heather fields. Then all he could hear were the traces of it, and in those traces, a whisper, and in that whisper, the sound of a tap at his door.

Kate came wandering into his room with her hair in curlers as she wanted to make a good "first day" impression at her new school.

'You look ridiculous,' Heath said. 'Go back to bed. You know Greta has warned you about not distracting me now that we are going to be in separate houses at our new school.'

Kate, hurt, turned and walked out of the room. Heath was sorry to have been so mean but how could he explain his issues to Kate? Lately, the desire to sink his teeth into her wrist was becoming stronger. He'd been taking his medication twice a day and was just about to take his evening dose when Kate arrived to tell him her hopes and dreams for the future. She'd gone back to her room, crawled upon her quilted bed and fallen asleep, listening to the storm rage outside her window.

Late, very late that night, the young girl woke to the sound of the screaming trees and the branches thrashing the window pane. She would not be rejected this time and opened the connecting door to find Heath fast asleep.

'Heath,' Kate whispered. 'Wake up.'

'What's wrong?' the boy said, crawling out from the sleeping bag he slept in for security – the one Greta had tried, with little success, to take away from him these past six years.

'I had a dream about us.'

'Shh. Go back to sleep, Kate.'

'I dreamt I was left outside in the rain, freezing in winter. I cut my arm on your window and it bled and hurt and I had to beg you to let me inside…'

Heath groaned. 'Don't say things like that Kate. I would never hurt you.' He moved uncomfortably, the venom sometimes pulsed more strongly in his blood at night, but he'd never told anyone this. 'Go back to sleep, Kate. It's almost morning. You know Greta doesn't like it when you come in here anymore…' He was due to take his morning vitamins, and then he'd be sure to feel normal for at least eight hours.

Heath rolled over. Kate hovered again and began to cry as she rocked his sleeping bag, forcing him to open his eyes.

'Heath, Heath, wake up.' He rolled over unwillingly. 'Promise me…promise me something.'

'Alright, I promise, now go back to sleep.'

'Promise me, if that ever happens, you'll let me in.'

'Heath smiled and shook his head sleepily, 'I promise. Now go back to bed.' Heath took his capsules from the bedside table and gulped them down in the morning light.

Kate crawled beside him, dragging her blanket around her, as he turned over. The girl gained comfort from her nightmare only when she managed to rest her head in the crook of the reluctant boy's shoulder.

**Chapter Six **

_**Katarina – Present Day**_

After a relatively comfortable sleep and the beginnings of an unusual story told to me by Greta Gardner as I sat by the fire in the owner's favourite chair, I was more than intrigued. I finally visited The Hall the next morning, cited the property, spoke briefly to the owner regarding matters of importance and took down the details required. I was then, surprisingly, invited to dinner at the pub the following week to finish up our business. As I drove out of the gravel driveway and slowly passed the pub, I saw that it was closed for the morning. I imagined the fireside warmly lit in the evening and the owner, who harboured his own secrets, sitting in my place.

That evening, Heath sat in his favourite armchair, reading the newspaper with more interest than he usually showed. He had the look of a burnt out rock star in his late twenties, still handsome and relatively young. He called his dog to heel and turned to sit at his chair near the fire. Greta was nowhere in sight; she'd gone home earlier to take care of her own children. A barman had taken her place.

Heath was sipping ale and still reading the newspaper when he heard a gaggle of shrieking teenagers who instantly irritated him. It was legal to drink at eighteen but he wondered why - girls dressed like tramps in denim shorts and black tights chugging down alcohol was a negative result. He should have imposed a dress code, he thought gruffly. Society had really gone downhill since the nineties. Then he remembered some of the looks of that era were pretty bad, too. He must be getting old, he thought, although no one would have known it. His face was harder but retained the handsome, boyish features of his youth. Recently, since turning thirty-nine, he'd felt quite ancient. Yet many of his business associates assumed he was much younger than he really was. There was no point in an explanation, revealing the secret of his youth.

He resigned to gruffly patting his dog and when he looked up the teenaged girls began joking around, making more noise than before. One of them, with long blonde hair and too much black mascara, waved at him. He turned away and stoked the fire. He wondered where their parents were and felt annoyed that his candle-lit lair was being infiltrated by the local riff raff. He looked back at his paper and shook his head.

His own son, annoyingly public school educated and hopelessly addicted to clubbing and drinking and smart-mouthing him, would no doubt have tried to chat them up. Heath had mostly, throughout his bizarre and unexpected life, been interested in people who at least seemed the same age as he really was. Since school, he'd felt people who hadn't lived as much of the journey as he had, had less to teach him. There was also the inevitable problem of his lack of ageing. People had started to notice. One of his old school acquaintances had asked him if he was on human growth hormones.

Hard living had taken its toll but Heath would never look older than thirty. His specialist told him that, realistically, he shouldn't expect to physically age more than twenty-six years (the age when his bones stopped growing and his venom fully matured). His sleeplessness kept him looking closer to thirty. The only thing that could finish him was a prolonged dose of sunlight or a stake through his heart, but agelessness, immortality was becoming a problem. His friends and associates looked a decade older. The longer he stayed in Hampstead, the more the whispers grew until they became openly hostile questions.

Heath flicked past the entertainment section in the paper, highlighting yet another vapid celebrity. His gaze then rested on the financial columns of the newspaper.

Normally these articles would have bored him but since the most recent financial crisis, he'd found them a lot more interesting. The companies he'd bought and discarded prior to 2008 had made him very rich, even richer than the acquisition of land and residential property. He was so wealthy that he only kept the Hampstead house out of sentiment. Just the thought of being nostalgic at his age, when some were just beginning family life, made him question his own sanity.

The candle on the low table near him flickered and his dog barked, unexpectedly, causing Heath to look up from his paper; what he saw made him catch his breath for the first time in years.

Kate's face.

The hair was lighter and straighter, but the face and body were the same. Her eyes were identical. Dark brown and large with long black lashes, hiding secrets he had only learnt once: same height, same face, same voice. His breath was taken away with a low sigh and he knew if he didn't speak to this woman… who was barely more than a girl, he would regret it forever. Still, it would take another drink to work up the courage.

The girl, in her long cream scarf looked up and matched his gaze. In the minute it took for Heath to decide whether to speak with her, the band played that song Kate loved….

'_It's my favourite,' Kate had said, laughing as she swapped earphones and grabbed Heath's hand in the clandestine meeting they'd had in the ten minutes before morning classes started. 'You can't imagine how much I love this song,' she added, dragging him through the school hall making a sunny spectacle of herself…wearing way too much eyeliner to get through the day without detention._

The girl was the image of Kate, yet not Kate. She ordered a fizzy drink but a pint of ale was placed in front of her. She glanced around the room, noting Heath's drink which had somehow been swapped with hers. The waiter was clearly not paying attention. Heath wondered if he'd finally lost his mind as the girl's stare intensified. She looked back at the barman. Oblivious to being studied, Kate's double wore a jaunty beret on her dark hair and had a colourful smile on her lips as her friends toasted her birthday.

'Happy eighteenth Katarina!' they yelled in unison.

Heath remembered the date. He was reminded every year.

In that moment, he hesitated to approach her and instead, glanced down at his paper. Moments later, as Heath read wearily beside the fire, a voice said, 'I think we've been given the wrong drink.'

Heath could not resist a question as he looked up at her shiny adolescent face and she replaced the cocktail glass in front of him with the ale.

'You're not, it can't be, Kate Spencer's daughter?'

'Kate? Oh, you mean my mother Kate?'

'Yes.'

'I suppose so. I'm Katarina Hunt. This is my birthday, obviously,' the girl said, glancing back at her friends who hovered near the bar.

'I know,' Heath said, surprised anyone would think he could forget such a thing.

'My father and I live just across the Heath. I've seen your photograph in the newspaper. You must be, my uncle?'

Her statement was so loaded Heath didn't know where to begin.

'Yes. You…you are my son's cousin.'

'My cousin… that's right… big family secret, no one speaks about it. None of the family even speaks to each other, clearly. How is it possible you don't look a day over thirty?'

'It's…the dark,' Heath replied.

She made a joke of it as only the young can. She was looming at the table now and had the audacity to pat his dog on its shaggy head. Heath's pet beamed from all her attention, a fact that Heath found mildly irritating.

'Do I… do I look like my mother?' the teenage girl said as the fire flickered.

And then it occurred to Heath, that instead of answering he could make her an offer she'd find difficult to refuse. After all, it was not too late and it was the girl's right to meet her cousin and see her mother's childhood home.

'Why don't you come back with me… to Hareton Hall? Her portrait remains on the wall. I'm headed there now. You can meet your cousin. There are also some photographs you might never have seen from…before. I'm sure your…father…won't mind.'

Katarina's eyes flashed and Heath saw a great deal of Kate's personality once again. It almost scared him, but not quite.

'Heel,' he said to his dog who'd started yapping excitedly (again) and was obviously beside himself at the smell of new company.

'Behave yourself,' Heath growled.

'Well, my friends…'

Katarina glanced back to the bar as the tall girl with blonde hair wandered over and gave Heath a bemused smile. Katarina introduced them to each other.

'Oh, so this is your uncle, Katty?' the girl asked in disbelief, as if to say, _yeah, right, he's way too young and hot._

'Kind of…we've only just met.'

Katarina's friend stifled a giggle as if she didn't believe her but either way, she didn't care. If Katty wanted to chat to this hot older man, that was her affair.

'Well, the night is young and so are we but we have to be going, early game tomorrow and all that. Are you coming with us Kat?'

At that moment Heath wore his most amiable expression.

Katarina knew she might only get this one chance to discover all she could about the people she'd only seen once or twice in old photographs.

The man in front of her was young and extremely handsome, yet so hard and cold. Something in her desired to visit his world, meet the cousin she'd never met as a child, see the house where her mother had been raised, learn the secret her family had kept for a generation.

'No,' Kate said. Then she looked at Heath and added, 'I'm coming with you.'

**Chapter Seven**

_**The Storm **_

His cravings had been less extreme this evening and he was fairly sure the parlour, where he kept his supply of freshly caught game, was locked. He did not wish this stranger to encounter an instant surprise. It would turn her off ever returning and Heath did not want to risk that just yet. He could only imagine the look of horror on her face if she was to discover his secret. They reached the gates through the midnight mist and Heath stopped the car with a jolt. He drove the vehicle fast and hard. He was not used to having guests. Heath had little thought for his passenger. Katarina arrived at the house looking white and surprised.

The girl shivered.

'Are you cold?'

'Yes.'

'Here, take this,' he said absently.

Heath pulled a red shawl out of the glove compartment and handed it to her.

'Who's?'

'It was your mother's,' he added.

Katarina didn't bother to ask what it was doing in his car.

The girl's fingers had practically frozen during the twenty minute drive that took them from icy country lane to mansion gates. Katarina had heard about this place only once during her childhood, had seen it from the heath but had never dared venture into its overrun grounds. They entered the hidden garden through the foggy, wrought iron gates that led to Hareton Hall.

After a few minutes of walking across slippery grounds, strange, open-mouthed statues greeted Katarina at the grand entrance.

Her father had never allowed her to speak of the Spencers and especially not her uncle. But recently, she and her cousin Linus had connected via the web and Katarina was more than a little intrigued about the mysterious 'other half' of her family. The outside lights came on as they walked over the gravel towards the front door which was overrun with creepers.

Her father would be concerned about her late night visit to The Hall but Katarina was fed up with being wrapped in egg shells. She pulled the red shawl round her shoulders and stuffed her curls into her woollen cap, dragging it over her ears.

'Quick,' Heath said, rubbing his hands. 'It's frozen out here. Be careful of the ice.'

She took his arm, surprised at how hard and strong the muscles felt. She hadn't expected her workaholic uncle to be so welcoming.

'I give the staff leave on weekends, can't stand them about me and I usually work on Saturdays anyway,' he added, amiably enough. _Rude, arrogant, reclusive_ were all words she had heard in connection with this man. So far, he was nothing like his press.

Apart from a few cobwebs at the side of the stone entrance, which was covered with climbing plants, the interior of the hall was miraculous; turning a simple switch lit up grand chandeliers that led to a parlour, kitchen and vast hall and dining room. There was a series of ancestral portraits lining the walls to the right of the entrance - one of her mother. The interiors were lush but tasteful.

Heath wandered into the kitchen after they'd walked the length of the entrance.

Katarina was agog. She was used to being the richest girl at her all-girls' school but she had never seen such opulence. Her hand brushed the entrance hall side table and wall

of mirrors as they walked towards the drawing room.

'Ah, I see Greta's left a note. Greta was my housekeeper and she used to look after your mother and me…when we were little. She was not much older than we were. Seems funny now,' he mused as he found the key to the cabinet.

'Greta locks it, she gets worried when I drink alone,' Heath said, 'but I know where she hides the key.'

Katarina looked around her.

'Another drink?' Heath asked.

'Yes,' Katarina said.

'Something stronger?'

'Yes, please.'

'Brandy?'

'Okay.'

'Brandy is best on cold winter nights,' Heath chuckled to himself, pouring her less than he normally would, though she had officially reached legal drinking age. Katarina wondered if he was over the limit but his hand was steady as he carried the decanter into the Edwardian drawing room. Drinking brandy in the evenings was as normal to Heath as breathing.

'Was this once…a ballroom?' Katarina asked as she unwound her red scarf with the graceful moves of a ballet dancer.

'It was not,' Heath said, sitting easily on the black leather sofa.

'It is definitely big enough.'

'Funny. I remember thinking that when I arrived here the first time. Actually, the ballroom was upstairs. For some reason, the children's rooms were built connecting to it, so we often heard dancing - "partying" as you'd put it - loud noises, fighting. He noticed the look of surprise on Kate's face.

'Where's Linus?'

'Not home yet, apparently. Probably at a dance club.'

'Oh. I met him once, online.'

'How modern,' Heath mused.

Heath checked his text as the wind started to howl and announce its presence in a storm. The rain trickled down slowly at first, like water on tin, then the storm gushed through the

open window, spraying its fury over the low table and threatening a vase of flowers. Katarina moved to hold it upright.

Heath's phone beeped, relaying a text.

'That's Linus. He won't be home for an hour or so; nice of him to let me know. To be honest Katarina, I thought you might be a…good influence on my son.'

Heath pulled the window down as far as it would go, shutting out most of the storm.

'Why? Is he out of control?' Katarina joked.

Heath turned to look at the girl squarely.

'He is spoiled, Katarina, and weak. I fear I may have indulged him.'

Katarina glanced at the photographs on the wall. She wasn't sure how to respond to his directness.

'But you have another…son?'

'Oh, that's Harrison's wife's brother, Hinton. He lives here and works in the evenings. You may have already met him. He studies at the same college,' Heath said, starting to feel the familiar tightness in his arms. He'd need to feed and take his medication soon.

Katarina had told Heath during the car trip all about where she studied.

'I've heard about him,' she said, reluctant to tell Heath about his nephew's reputation. The girl looked around and sighed as the storm and the darkness swamping the confines of The Hall seemed to embrace her. Heath was taken aback at the image she made in the half-light, so similar to the photographs he had of Kate, tucked away in his wardrobe. The need to take his vitamins and drink Magenta overcame Heath. He quickly excused himself and began to walk out of the room.

'I'll get some photographs,' he offered. 'Should keep you busy until Linus returns at some unearthly hour. I'm not even sure which club he's gone to but once he's out he doesn't come home until late. I could drive you back to The Grange, but to be honest, we should wait for the weather to clear.'

'Of course,' Katarina said. There was obviously no choice since storm warning, news flashes were being broadcast. Heath turned to leave the room and Katarina flicked the switch on the flat screen and turned on some music instead. Something old and classical, Katarina thought. The low lighting flashed once and then the power went completely: no television, no CD, no sound except the thrashing of water on trees.

'I'll get the candles,' Heath offered. 'I know where Greta keeps them,' he added.

'Okay.'

Kate froze. The house was way creepier in the dark.

Moments later, Heath came back with lamps for each of them.

'Old-fashioned, I know, but they work.'

It occurred to Heath that from outside the window any stranger could see him entertaining a young female. Of course, they'd have to make it past the vast security on the neighbouring property, which he also owned, to find this place. Still, the thought suddenly bothered him as he pulled the curtains. His intentions for this girl had nothing to do with forming any kind of connection with her. She was merely the final piece in the jigsaw puzzle that formed his bizarre life, if that's what it was called.

He was determined not to let her realize she was trapped. The girl must want to stay, he thought, at least for now. He wondered how to get her to agree, as he stopped in the kitchen and took his medication mixed with protein powder. Heath was able to drink a variety of blood but tonight he felt like 0-negative. He glanced out the window as he guzzled, noting the heaviness of the rain. The dark, vicious winters fuelled his fantasies… and his nightmares. When he finished drinking, he thought he should find the photographs first - distract the girl.

He'd heard the neighbours at the pub gossiping about Hareton Hall but their stories had never bothered him until now.

He ventured into Kate's old room in the half-light and opened the door to her wardrobe which was a converted spare room. Her things had barely been touched since they'd been packed away when Kate had left The Hall forever. He was tall and could easily reach the top shelf but her many shoes had been piled together. There was a loud crash as some folders tumbled down in front of him.

_Blast that boy_, he thought. Of course Hinton had been in here rummaging through their old school texts and files. People often wondered why he'd adopted Hinton from Harrison as a six year old, but he never liked to comment publicly on family matters. He didn't believe in filling the gossip columns with his motives and every minute detail of his family

life though people in cyberspace now did. It was bad enough that the many girlfriends he'd had over the years since his wife left him had talked about him publicly. Heath felt social networking sometimes degenerated into an excuse for public one-upmanship and he wanted no part of that. But then, he had more than most to hide.

He wondered what the boy could possibly have been looking for in the room that now housed a filing cabinet in the corner. He recalled a recent conversation with Greta as he rummaged…

'Let's be honest Heath, I'm fed up with your haphazard lifestyle. I promised to stay until the children were raised and they're grown up now…almost. They don't need me anymore and nor do you. Everything's under control.'

'Don't leave us, Greta.'

'That's not the point Heath. The place itself is just _filled _with ghosts. I don't mean literally, I mean from the past…and you should think about selling it…for your own good. I have my own children to raise, Heath. Move on. Get married again. Start anew. Put away the old ways, Heath. Revive yourself. That's my advice, for all the good it will do…'

Heath had looked at her as if she were mad. He'd even had the house redecorated just to please her and had converted the drawing room into a room of Edwardian taste bathed in blue light, a blue-seeming flame in the fireplace, candles and candelabras and lush crystal chandeliers. The lounge room had been updated from its 80's look to the modern era with sunken leather furniture and various reference journals and magazines lining the covered shelves. Heath had always refused to take down the portraits.

'I tell you Heath, living in the past is no good for anyone,' Greta had told him.

'You don't know the half,' he'd said dismissively as he walked down the stairs and out the door to the office building he worked in (and owned) deep in the City of London.

On this night, he turned up the paraffin lamp to find what he was seeking and reached to grasp it.

Meanwhile, Katarina, who felt a little like a trapped bird waiting out the storm which had begun in earnest, wandered over to the fire and started going through a pile of old CDs (there were even some old vinyl albums!) which lay around the edges of the brick. Her cousins mostly liked the same music although both of them seemed to be more into "house" than she was.

She was glad her father, a kind man, had taught her to appreciate all musical styles over the years even though he'd insisted on piano lessons to fill The Grange with the music that had left it, along with her mother. Katarina noticed the grand piano gathering dust in the corner and imagined her mother, Kate, once playing it.

Katarina remembered her mother's face from photographs. She had been so young when she had Katarina, only eighteen. Katarina glanced into the glass above the fire. The girl realised, as she rubbed the life back into her cold cheeks, that her mother had been the same age as she was now; the same age as her uncle would remember her.

Weary from the long day and warmed with brandy, Katarina slumped on the couch. It was a good thing she didn't need to go back to college tomorrow, or anywhere, really. The rain and hail began to pelt down forming sleet outside the window. She texted her father, so he wouldn't worry. There was no need to fill him in on the details. He'd assume she was with friends. Besides, it would be foolhardy to travel on the country roads just now, though the haunted interiors of this opulent palace made her feel like a trapped bird.

**Chapter Eight**

_**Winter Nights**_

Finally, Heath shone the torch on the dusty old shoe box he was looking for.

'This should satisfy her imagination,' he thought.

Inside lay a pile of photographs, taken pre-digitally, tied in a bundle with a red ribbon. The photographs were of the Spencers, as children, at the local primary school and playing together on Hampstead Heath. There were more taken at boarding school in Scotland. They had not been looked at or moved for almost twenty years and the top of the box was thick with dust, but other than that, the photographs were in remarkably good condition.

Heath rubbed his arms. He could anticipate need now, the need for his medication, the need for blood. Heath could feel the surge of want and desire in his venom. The tightness in his calves and wrists would move through his body as his strength seemed to decrease physically. He'd neglected his pint of blood this evening, which he always drank before eight pm, but then he'd never had visitors to distract him. He looked at the photograph in his hand.

'Your beautiful face,' Heath whispered, fingers tracing the paper outline of her jaw as he held the edge of the torch in his mouth He dropped it when he heard the dog bark and the girl cry out. He rushed down the stairs to the drawing room.

Rain streamed in through the broken window creating a fast-growing puddle of water in the drawing room. He walked over to block the window with a chest of drawers as the girl shrank into the corner of the wall…

'I… I went to close the shutter and someone tried to grab my hand.'

Heath paused.

'You must have imagined it Katarina. It was the wind and the rain. The winds are strong; it's so isolated out here. A noise sounds louder than it really is. Shadows seem like people. Now, calm yourself. Here, take a seat and have a sip of your drink. I'll make some tea.

Katarina sat on the couch, shocked and shaken.

'How did you do that? Move the chest so easily? Pull down the window as if it was as light as a feather?'

Heath finished his drink and paused.

'It's not as heavy as it looks'

The answer seemed to satisfy Katarina who continued, 'The fingers, they were so cold…her skin was…white. She wore a nightgown.'

'Honestly Katarina, you sound like you've read too many horror stories…'

'Suddenly, I feel like I'm living one.'

'Only suddenly?' Heath said sarcastically. 'You wouldn't be the first to say that. I'm thinking of selling it…. But nevertheless, it's not safe to leave now.'

'It's not safe to stay…'

'Nonsense…mind plays tricks in here. I'll take you home the minute the storm finishes or morning comes…whichever arrives first.'

Katarina sighed as Heath smiled and helped her to her feet. Her father had clearly exaggerated. No stranger could have been more welcoming.

Heath smiled again as he settled a mohair rug around the girl. Katarina accidentally touched his hand and was shocked. His palm was as cold as ice. He withdrew his hand quickly and rubbed his fingers together.

'Thank you,' Katarina said, pretending not to notice. Little did she know what an effort it was to play nice. Heath had managed to take a few more sips of blood in his bedroom before going to find the photos and was feeling somewhat revived. He had no attraction to this girl's blood. In any case, it was strange. He hadn't even thought of drinking her, especially as he was hungry. He'd trained himself to withhold when it came to people he liked or met as friends. Perhaps this came from being "mixed-race". Heath's specialist had once considered him that rarest of things; a vampire-human hybrid. Now, he felt more vampire than hybrid.

'I aim to please,' he said cheerily, aware how bland he sounded. He handed her the photograph album as he spoke. 'We open the grounds to visitors in the summer now that…my wife has left and the children have grown up. I usually move to the Southern Hemisphere and enjoy the winter in New Zealand (Heath wanted to add, _'It's cold there when it's hot here and there's an endless supply of animal protein and blood and no one asks any questions_.') Instead, he used the open house story as an excuse, adding, 'I was…opposed to it at first, but the visitors bring in extra revenue and I don't have to put up with them… and, it all goes to a good cause - my charity for abandoned children…'

Her uncle sat opposite her now, sipping his brandy as he discussed the plight of orphans.

How could a man who was involved in charitable causes be as bad as her father had said?

The phone rang. Heath picked up the receiver. He spoke curtly as Katarina poured over the photographs on her lap.

'That was Linus,' Heath added, after he hung up. 'He's been caught up in the West End and Hinton is working late at the studio. He goes to evening classes sometimes. I just got a text. They don't speak to me usually. Apparently, I spent too much of my energy on work when they were growing up and now they don't want to know me.' Heath rationalized this partial lie as easier than the truth.

Katarina looked intently at the photographs of two children dressed up formally for a family function in the grounds of Hareton Hall. They looked like twins apart from the fact that one was a little taller than the other.

'That's us, when I first came to live with the Spencers,' Heath said.

'You both look…so sweet,' Katarina said. 'I was wondering…why didn't my father like you?'

Heath paused, wondering how much to tell the girl.

'He didn't like me because he thought he was better than me…it's as simple as that.'

The girl shook her head incredulously. 'Oh…but my father would never…'

'It…was different then. Everything was different.'

Heath smiled. Katarina noticed his perfect, white teeth.

'It's late, we can continue our discussion at a later date,' Heath added, rising from his chair.

It bothered him slightly to have her in the house all night, not because he cared what anyone would think but… well, for reasons which had already become obvious. The house itself…was unreliable, strange… creepy. His desires were manageable. He was determined she would not discover his secret but the girl had made an accurate assessment of hidden forces that swirled through the hall like ghosts.

'When was this taken?' Katarina asked as Heath stood up.

The girl held the photograph of two children, the boy with an untucked shirt, messy hair and wayward striped tie, and the girl, standing up straight with knee high white socks and braids. The boater hat sat atop her perfectly styled hair.

Heath looked at the photo dismissively.

'First day of boarding school, Greta took us to the train. We each had trunks with our names engraved on them in gold.' Heath smiled at the memory.

'Really…I didn't know you and mother went to school together.'

'We didn't…not really. There was a boys' school and a girls' school. They shared the same playing fields.'

'Did you meet up in secret then?'

He suddenly tired of Katarina's constant questions and wanted someone else to distract her. He didn't expect her to be so smart, or to like her, even a little. Perhaps she had more of her mother in her than her father.

'Sometimes,' he said warily, 'Kate…your mother…came to my football games.'

The storm howled outside as if to prove a point. Heath walked heavily over to the bay windows and checked the locks from the inside to prevent the incessant rattle which shook the room in the dark. Usually, it drizzled here but tonight was different. Tonight reminded him of Scotland and the stormy night his band played in the school hall for the first time.

'I like this photograph,' Katarina said. 'I've never seen it before. Where did she get the outfit?'

Kate stood on the stairs of a ballroom in a beautiful, low-cut, pink satin drop-waisted dress wearing high heels, tassels on the knee length hem and a sequinned choker around her head. 'It was the school formal, I suppose they call it a "prom" on those American TV shows,' he said dismissively. 'The theme of the occasion was 1920s,' he warmed to the memory, 'The band I was in tried playing jazz, dressed as gangsters. We thought we were so cool. Your mother, Kate, was determined to be the centre of attention that night…' Heath looked at the photograph and smiled.

As if reading his thoughts, Katarina said, 'Wearing that dress, I bet she succeeded.'

**Chapter Nine**

_**Sixteen**_

Kate had gone to buy the dress on one of their rare Saturday mornings in Edinburgh. They were sixteen and Kate was determined to drag Heath into town with her to pick up the dress. He pretended not to care because he hated shopping but secretly enjoyed having Kate as his exclusive companion during their journey. He'd grown older and stronger in their years at boarding school. He was managing his condition, and no one except Kate had ever guessed.

The boy enjoyed any excuse for freedom outside the school grounds. He didn't see Kate at all during school hours. Although he'd hated being sent away at first, he found the regimented atmosphere of sports and lessons suited him more than he ever imagined it would. Being able to climb higher, jump faster, bat harder and kick longer in games gave him an edge and made him popular with other boys, but it wasn't them he wanted to impress most.

Heath pretended it was an imposition as the note was delivered to his class. He and Kate arranged to meet, catch the bus and have lunch in an old-fashioned tea room (Heath would have preferred lunch at the pub, obviously, but this compromise meant he'd just have to pick the meat off the sandwiches). Besides, to impress Kate, he wanted to go along with her wishes.

Edinburgh on Saturday morning in April was a jostling, architecturally spectacular city. The light was low, like London but the open wind made it pleasantly colder. Heath wished he could have driven the car he'd been saving to buy from the "business" he ran after lights out. All of the boys from his boarding house were involved in a betting game related to the school fixtures. Heath would have been suspended, or worse, if it was discovered they were using real money to bet. The game had been running for more than a year and Heath, as bookmaker, was making a handsome profit. With his winnings, Heath and Kate could have taken a car if he'd been allowed to drive but the school (stupid school that it was in relation to rules) forbade it.

Heath would have ignored the rule, like most of the other rules at the school, if it hadn't been so difficult to break without being noticed. He was careful not to draw too much attention to himself. Being taller, faster, smarter and better looking (according to Kate) than other boys, made this difficult. Because boys placed less value on looks and more on accomplishment, they didn't dislike him as much as they would have if they'd all been girls and one outshone the others. Really, his mates looked up to him in a way he was sure they wouldn't, if they knew the truth. He kept his medication hidden. He kept his drinking supplies (type O in secluded plastic packages from the blood bank) in a locked, private fridge that (as house captain) he had exclusive access to. The school nurse was told as little as possible. She thought Heath had a rare condition and relayed instructions from his doctor without telling anyone or asking too many questions.

Edinburgh wasn't home to him but he had grown fond of the city. He thought one day he and Kate might live there or maybe New York or London if she had a preference. Anywhere dark and cold but populated would be good. They both liked entertainment and crowds they could blend in to. He glanced at Kate sitting beside him on the bus. Neither of them had their head phones on, preferring each other's silences to music. He looked at her profile, her perfect features and warm smile, her fragile collarbones leading to her neck.

He tried to stop the thought. Yes, her smile was beautiful, though he'd never told Kate this but it was her body and soul he wanted to possess, just as she possessed his, in theory. The warmth of her skin, her blood - intangible and unknown - was a perfect mystery to him. He tried to avoid staring longingly at the tiny rippled vein above her shirt collar. Heath inched his hand across without looking at her. When she laced her warm fingers around his gloved ones, as they approached the main cobbled street, the venom in his veins pulsed.

Kate always asked after him in a whisper. _How was he feeling? Not too weak or strong? Not tired or sleepy? Weird? _(Always weird!) _Did he need her to go with him to see a specialist? No_.

Heath insisted he was as normal as possible. He wanted no fuss. They were discovering new treatments constantly and he was perfectly fine; he'd be okay…just like her. Only, he knew he was nothing like her. Not really - apart from their obvious physical resemblance which, creepily, made others assume a biological connection that didn't exist.

Kate smiled. She loved the fact that, lately, her attention seemed to make Heath nervous. It was strange and unexpected and thrilling; he'd agreed to come with her to pick up her dress. They came into town only when they got a leave pass, and she knew Heath disliked shops. There was no way he'd do this for just anyone, least of all Annabelle Hunt. To say Kate wasn't really fond of Annabelle was an understatement. Kate did not place huge value on female friendship and Annabelle had a job ahead of her trying to befriend Kate. Kate often outshone other girls her age and had been brought up around boys. Besides, Kate was still getting over the fact that the Hunts had been sent to the same boarding school. In any case, Kate felt she had little in common with other teenage girls. Many had tried to befriend her, briefly, only for Kate to discover their real desire was to become close to Heath.

It had taken Kate ages to get used to seeing the Hunts every day at school. She suspected it was harder for Heath who understandably harboured a grudge against them. Kate knew if they ever found out who… or what Heath really was, they'd be shocked. They might even shun him. Kate didn't want Heath to have to go through that. She didn't want to give the other girls and boys a chance to reject him. He was hers, Kate thought possessively as she linked her arm through his.

One day he would be fierce and fully grown. By then, there might not be laws discriminating against vampires. One day, Heath might be able to be honest about who he really was. But until then, it would be easier to stay in the shadows. Kate often read marginalized news items with titles like, _Blood Stocks Low_, and stories about the "threats on the London tube," and the "new hybrid species of humans" with "unidentifiable blood types", rumoured to exist. No one had ever come out as a hybrid…or a vampire, for fear of being ostracised.

The pair rounded the corner from the main street to the bus stop.

'C'mon,' Heath said, pulling Kate's hand. 'Let's get off here and walk the rest of the way.'

'Okay,' Kate replied. She wondered if he ever noticed how adoring she was in his company. Kate certainly hoped not. They had never kissed. Heath was worried it might get out of hand and he'd fang her before he controlled himself. He was not yet fully grown and might be so out of control he couldn't resist and Kate could end up missing a chunk out of her neck or worse.

Kate was secretive about her feelings for him or as secretive as she could be. How could he not notice that she worshipped every step he took, to a degree that both excited and scared her? She was glad to be wearing the jeans and new jumper she'd ordered from a London catalogue. She was dressed fashionably but Heath barely looked. He was too busy hungrily glancing into the eyes of strangers.

Together, they reached the shops in double quick time. These days, Heath seemed to almost merge through crowds. He could look into her eyes, and she would know what he wanted before he'd even said it. They were becoming twin souls.

'This is good,' Heath said. 'The people traffic isn't too dense. We can get this over with and then have some lunch before they call out the search and rescue dogs for us.'

Heath was always hungry.

'I thought you got…permission to come,' Kate said.

'No…ah, not exactly,' Heath said. He'd handed in an unfinished assignment and had been asked to stay back on Saturday and complete it. Heath liked to bend the rules and had climbed out the window. Kate shrugged, knowing the teachers liked him too much for him to ever get into serious trouble. She was secretly thrilled he'd risked a further detention for her.

Together, they rounded the corner of a laneway and walked past a fish and chip shop that sold deep fried fish, chicken and… chocolate bars?

'I've always wanted to try one of those,' Kate said as she walked into the boutique next door.

'Your every wish must be granted. Wait there,' he said.

Kate loved it when Heath said things like that, flattered her and made a joke of her vanity. He ran into the shop and ordered two battered treats; he returned minutes later as Kate wrapped tightly in her long coat, hovered outside the shop. Heath held two wrapped packages. He gave Kate the first one; a battered chocolate bar with soft caramel oozing in the centre, whilst he chomped on the other - deep fried chicken. Kate's coat bag was draped carefully over her arm as they sat in the bus shelter and ate hungrily.

'Mmm… yummy,' Kate said.

'Like I said, your every wish is my command.'

'Nothing but the best for me, hey Heath…' Kate joked.

'I thought that was what you wanted…' the boy said, suddenly worried he had misread her.

'Of course, this is one of the highlights of my sixteen years…'

'Mine too…' Heath said, smiling. Heath had the nicest smile Kate had ever seen, the thickest brown hair and the kindest eyes. His teeth were perfect, (although she missed his little fangs, retracted so long she hadn't seen them in years). Kate looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring at his mouth.

Moments later, Kate screamed as a bus sped by and the water in the gutter splashed them. In seconds, water pools swirled around their feet and the edges of their jeans were soaked in muddy rain.

'Oh well,' Kate said, 'I suppose they can be dry cleaned…'

Heath looked at her, the warmth of his smile suddenly making even the cold weather feel less inclement. He moved closer. Kate could nearly feel his breath. The boy opened up his coat, snug and larger than hers and enveloped her in its dry warmth. Rain tumbled down from the sky. Heath's body temperature these days was not cold but he always seemed to need an extra jumper.

'This is Edinburgh for you,' Heath said. 'Quick…'

They moved from the bus stop, which was largely uncovered, to the shelter of the shop front. In the fading afternoon sun, Kate leaned in and kissed Heath, softly on the mouth. Heath was surprised and soon they were covering each other in sweet, warm kisses.

At first, Heath was reluctant. After Kate kissed him he leaned back hesitantly. Heath managed to kiss Kate again without wanting to drain the blood from her neck and felt only mild discomfort in his veins.

The discomfort soon turned to bliss. Being around her for so many years made control possible…just; he'd taken his medication while he waited for her. This "control" was a revelation to him. They kissed again. Heath suddenly pushed her away, feeling the tiny pang of his extending incisors.

'I'm…sorry,' Kate said.

'It's…it's not your fault. I'm just…'

'I know,' Kate whispered, turning his face to hers.

The boy shyly reached his gloved hands under her coat. Heath pulled Kate closer to him - so close she felt, for a moment, unable to breath. The depth of their affection scared her. She lowered her arms into him, stayed locked in his embrace and just as quickly pushed him away.

'I…I didn't expect us to be so…'

'What?' Heath said, unsurprised by the extraordinary feelings he felt. Alarmed she might be rejecting him, he suddenly felt his incisors extending again and turned his face away, ashamed.

'Look at me,' Kate said. He retracted his fangs fully in that moment before doing so, proving to himself that control was completely possible.

'I don't want us to have any secrets. I was going to say…good. Together we are so…'

'Bad?' he smiled. Heath leaned in towards her as they waited for the downpour to stop. Wrapped in each other's arms, they were glad to miss the first bus back to school.

**Chapter Ten**

_**Hinton**_

'It's late… ' Heath said, changing the subject as Katarina took another sip of tea.

It was past midnight and the storm hadn't subsided.

'Do you mind if I stay the night?'

Heath was mildly surprised but glad he hadn't had to make the suggestion.

'Of course not, I don't know when or even if the boys will be home, but there are six guest rooms and Greta should be in at eight in the morning. Take your pick. I'm just going to stay here by the fire, go through a few papers. I have a business meeting in the City tomorrow. Even though it's Saturday, some of the foreign markets don't sleep.'

'Mmm…' Katarina said. Normally she would have felt odd staying in a stranger's house. Before it was her uncle's it had, after all, been her mother's. Katarina was surprised Heath had become so traditional. He'd once dreamed of being a rock star according to a letter her mother had written (the only one that she had been allowed to read and keep).

Katarina gazed at her mother's portrait in the hallway. How was it possible to look so similar to a person you didn't know?

'Thank you. I just texted my father and he thinks I'm staying with my friend - the girl you met in the pub.'

'Blonde one, long hair?'

'Yes, that one,' Kate regularly excused Stacey's flirtatious behaviour.

Heath nodded, making himself seem more amiable than he was. He tried to imagine he hadn't dreamed of sinking his teeth into the blonde girl's neck and draining her until she shuddered.

'I was wondering if I could sleep in my mother's old room?'

Heath hesitated, but he knew refusal would put her off guard.

'Well…um, I don't think Greta has the bed made up.'

'Which one is it?'

'First right, top of the stairs, but…' He could feel his muscles tightening; he needed his medication and perhaps some protein from the larder…

'That's okay; I'll just take this…' Katarina gestured to the checked mohair blanket that had been wrapped around her. Before Heath could utter another word, she said good night and was bounding half way up the creaking staircase, two steps at a time, revealing her youth.

It would be a long night, Heath thought, as he finished his pint of Magenta and took some extra capsules. The storm water pelted down on the sill in the drawing room as the lights suddenly flashed. The dog jumped up and howled. His ears were alert to the unfamiliar sound of music playing from Kate's old bedroom.

'Settle,' Heath warned.

The dog nuzzled his head under his paws and softly growled instead. He sensed a person approaching.

Outside, Hinton, Heath's adopted son, walked alone towards the house. He was grown now, hunched over his plastic-wrapped package. It was his latest completed canvas, carefully covered. Hinton had lived at Hareton Hall since his sister, Frances, had arrived with him in tow eighteen years ago. Now he had no family but Heath and Linus. The boy wore a blue scarf, brown coat and ski hat pulled down over his ears. He'd been in central London finishing his Art History class and then he'd stayed on to assist the tutor during a photography lesson. Hinton was one of the best students at Art College and made extra cash tutoring. The class had been developing film (in a dark room during their lesson in pre-digital camera work) and some students had then decided to go into the West End for drinks. Before he knew, it was almost daybreak.

The boy hated going home. His uncle was legally his adopted father but Hinton always called him Heath. Before Hinton went off to class, Heath had been in a surlier mood than usual and was always on at him about "making something of his life" and going to work in the City at the family firm. Hinton couldn't believe he expected so much of him when he expected absolutely nothing of his own son. Linus, who was blonde like his mother, did little else except socialize and run dance parties in abandoned fields.

Heath and Hinton had countless arguments about Hinton's "lack of direction." Hinton knew Heath liked to keep his family close by and didn't want either of his sons to leave home before they had finished studying. He was a difficult and unsociable parent but he was the only parent Hinton had since his own had died shortly after his birth. Franny had raised him until her desire to flee The Hall after Harrison's death overcame her. Hinton was in school then and The Hall became his holiday home. Greta, who had children of her own to care for, only came in three days a week now.

Heath rarely trusted new people enough to actually employ them so when staff left, they were not replaced. Over the years only Greta remained. Hinton couldn't really believe how he'd been trapped into his adopted father's lair, especially since Heath had never actually been demonstrative towards him during his childhood. But then, he'd never shown much love to his own son, either. Slowly, Hareton Hall had become his home. And it was all because of _her,_ Hinton thought. As he neared the house, the first picture to greet him in the hallway would be Kate Spencer's.

Hinton was sceptical about love partly because of the rumours that connected her to his adopted father. Besides, Hinton was nineteen and had a reputation to uphold. He enjoyed "playing the field" as Heath used to say in the old days. Since Art College had more female students than males, the odds were definitely in his favour. Even so, Hinton couldn't wait to get out of Hampstead for good. As he walked up the drive, along the old stone road, shivering in the early hours of the morning, he considered the merits of leaving London. The borough was freezing and the cab from the station would only take him so far along the icy road now that the storm was subsiding. He often took the bus. There was nowhere to park in central London anyway and he hated asking Heath for money.

**Chapter Eleven**

_**Remember **_

Hinton was surprised that the lights were still on in the drawing room as he entered the house. The dog had slept by the fire until everyone else had gone to sleep. Then, he'd done as usual and wandered upstairs to lie at the foot of his master's bed.

The boy had removed his coat; he wore the latest sneakers and low rise jeans. Hinton wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. He hoped Greta had left something since. He was very hungry after hours of clubbing in Soho. He was often photographed there with various girlfriends, but lately, his shallow existence had begun to bother him. Perhaps he was more like his adopted father than he thought. The family photographs that filled the drawing room told barely half the story of its dysfunction.

Hinton shook his head at the pictures on the wall as he climbed the stairs. It was funny to him that Heath could give himself airs and graces but no one knew where he came from either. Heath could use the title bestowed upon him for "services to the economy" but that didn't make him a Lord, not in Hinton's eyes. He couldn't have cared less about titles but he thought it almost funny that he had to practically ask permission to live in his own house when his sister had more rights to it than Heath (who only owned the house because of a swindle…) but that was another story.

The boy was aware there were two sides to the family history. In the first version, Heath had "saved" him as a child from a vicious beating by his drunkard brother-in-law, Harrison. The other was contained in an apologetic note from Harrison years later. Truth lay somewhere in between. One thing Hinton knew for sure; Heath cheated Harrison out of his own home during a game of high-stakes poker.

There are always more sides to a story but this was the particular side that Hinton chose to believe. Before the bet, papers had been signed. Heath, the foundling child, had risen to become the rightful owner of Hareton Hall. Hinton grimaced in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth and splashed his face. His image was hazy with condensation. He rubbed the mirror with a towel and wiped his face dry. Hinton turned off the light and walked quietly to his room. Heath's light was on. As usual Hinton didn't bother to say goodnight. Instead, he flopped on his own bed fully clothed.

Heath wasn't so bad. He'd been more of a father than Harrison and treated him more like a biological son than the father he'd never met. Besides, unless he won the annual Art Prize at his college, he had nowhere else to go.

Hinton had flicked on the television news in his bedroom and was chugging orange juice and eating what was left of some roasted chicken, when he heard a piercing screech that made him walk into the hallway.

Doors flung open and Heath's dog bounded out of the main bedroom towards a room with blazing light under the door; a room that had never been used since his teenage aunt had inhabited it more than twenty years ago.

A dark-haired girl flung open the door and stood on the landing, looking pale and frightened in the half light. Hinton Spencer froze on the spot.

'Who are you?'

'I'm… I'm Katarina Hunt. You must be…'

'Hinton, your cousin by marriage, for all intents and purposes. I was adopted. Are you okay?'

'I don't know… I think I will be. Someone tried to get into my room.'

The boy, mesmerized by her white skin and red lips, stared at her longer than was necessary, then apologized, adding, 'sorry…it's just that you are identical to my…adopted Aunt…' He gestured to Kate's picture on the wall.

'May I?' Hinton said.

'Yes…come in, please.' Kate said with desperation in her voice. Hinton checked the cupboards and behind the curtains, even under the bed.

'There's nothing in here…'

A slight breeze wafted through the room, seemingly from nowhere.

'I…I met your Uncle, um Heath and I wanted to come back to see some old photos and the house my mother grew up in. Then the storm set in so I asked if I could stay the night and…I don't think Heath wanted me to stay and someone tried to get into my room."

Hinton looked around.

'The door was shut when I came up.'

Almost speechless, Katarina whispered, 'not through the door, through the window.'

Hinton wandered past the bed and towards the upstairs bay window. It was unlocked and unopened. He pulled it up. They were on the upper floor. Below, lay a stone pathway. The flower beds were a metre away from the walls and the trees even farther. It would not have been possible for anyone to climb up.

'There is no one there now,' Hinton said. 'Are you sure you didn't have too much to drink?'

'Are you serious? I know what I saw.'

Outside, the wind started to pelt down onto the trees. In the distance, an icy storm began to howl again.

'Tell you what,' Hinton said, smiling, 'Why don't you come into my room? I'll take the floor, of course, and you'll be safe until morning when I drive you home.'

Katarina looked at him hesitantly. This wasn't the cousin she was supposed to meet, though she'd heard about him often enough at Art College. Hinton was known as a real ladies' man, a guy who failed his A-levels and only got into college because of the brilliance of his drawings and a scholarship. Everyone knew his family were loaded. Hinton was a year ahead of her, so they'd seen each other in the halls but never spoken. He'd dated more than his share of girls at the college, and dumped them just as quickly.

Katarina reluctantly dragged her checked blanket off the bed and pulled on her jeans over her underwear as Hinton pretended to look away.

'C'mon, then,' Katarina said, as the storm raged outside.

Hinton couldn't believe his luck. He started walking towards his room when he realised the girl had taken a wrong turn.

'I'm going to sleep in the drawing room,' Katarina said. 'Perhaps, you could come with me?' She was still pretty scared after the earlier incident, though she'd never admit it and Hinton had all but convinced her she was dreaming.

"Mmm, give up my bed for a hard couch?" For a minute she thought he was going to refuse.

'Why not?' he said with his most affable smile. 'We can pretend we're on a camping holiday.' Although her likeness to her mother threw him momentarily, Hinton was beginning to like this new cousin.

Heath was able to sleep through practically anything but lately he'd been woken up at all hours. He'd drunk three glasses of brandy before bed and fallen into an almost trancelike state reading the stock reports and going through some important files in relation to an upcoming merger. He'd been out hunting squirrels and rabbits again. He'd swiftly scaled the outside wall so no one would notice him coming back or leaving. Disgusted, he wiped the blood from his mouth, rinsed and brushed his teeth before bed.

Though he dimly heard the sound of a woman's scream it faded just as quickly and the only change in his vast, kingly bedroom was the blurry sight of his dog's ears standing up. He crawled under his duvet. Heath slept a few hours every night. After his maturity, at twenty-one, he hadn't slept at all. But recently, he'd started falling into a deep slumber in the early hours of the morning. He reached over for his newly prescribed elixir. There were many underground markets now and different products for both vampires and hybrids that hadn't been available to Heath in his youth. After he chugged some Magenta (a new elixir), he fell back into a deep sleep. The dog whimpered and snuggled at his feet like she always did when he woke.

In the dark he heard a woman's voice, clear as glass.

"Heath… Heath…" the girl whispered to him. Then, her hand reached over and shook him awake.

Dark hair fanned across his ear, irritating him and interrupting his dream, which was more than a dream. Heath opened his eyes and saw the perfect brown eyes of another and heard Kate's pleading voice as he reached out to touch her cheek.

'Heath,' the girl said. 'Forgive me for what I did. I've been away for eighteen years. Please come back to me, I have missed you. It's so cold out here…come back to me…come back…Let me in. I've been in the in-between for so long…'

**Chapter Twelve **

_**The Cottage**_

Heath disappeared most evenings at school. Kate knew he went hunting. He'd be back for band rehearsals, he had promised her. He'd been counselled by his doctor. Kate was sure he practised being 'safe', which meant only drinking wild animals and never more than he needed to survive. Magenta, drunk in the interim, ensured he was not tempted by humans; nor would he be, unless his vampiricism developed fully. This was a roll of the dice, according to his specialist. They wouldn't know if he was a full bloodsucker until he reached eighteen. In the meantime, his diet subsisted only of protein, citrus, Magenta and plasma delivered via special order from London once a week. Blood oranges were still his favourites.

Tomorrow night, the inter-school Battle of the Bands competition was to be held as part of the Sixth Form dance. Kate and a few others, including Annabelle Hunt, were factored into the front row as audience members or "fake fans", as Kate joked. Annabelle had made such an effort to be friends with Kate that the girls were now talking and Annabelle had hesitantly been accepted into Kate's circle of popular girls.

Those girls were sitting in the front row. The band hoped they wouldn't be sitting there long. Tonight, they wanted everyone in the room up dancing. Heath would be lying if he said he didn't like the fact that a lot of girls paid him attention. He was tall with dark hair and had a "mysterious" look about him. He'd heard Annabelle giggling and whispering about him to his friends once. He still disliked the Hunts but he enjoyed female attention in all its forms and it didn't pay to display open warfare towards Annabelle's older brother, Edmund. He'd tried that in his first year at boarding school and all his privileges had been withdrawn. He hadn't seen Kate in over a week.

There was only one girl whose opinion truly mattered to him and she sat front row centre as the band played her favourite cover. Afterwards, everyone rushed off to supper but Heath and Kate had plans.

As Heath packed away his guitar, the drummer, who fancied Kate, smiled at her.

'Did you like your song, Kate? We played it especially for you…'

Heath rolled his eyes, jealously.

'I more than enjoyed it,' Kate replied but she was looking straight at Heath when she spoke.

Heath had a good singing voice. He and his band were the coolest – some said most dangerous boys at school – by far. Although Kate was proud of Heath's ability to assimilate, it had begun to annoy her to see other girls paying Heath so much attention and the last thing she wanted to do was let him know how great he was. That would create too much of an ego problem.

'I mean, it was better than okay,' she covered.

'That was your song,' Heath said.

Kate couldn't help but smile. Heath knew what she liked so well.

Heath pretended not to care and smiled at Annabelle Hunt as she gathered her things, much to Kate's annoyance. Heath made sure Kate noticed how much Annabelle Hunt flirted with him. When he became bored with Annabelle's conversation mid-sentence, Heath turned from her and walked over to demand Kate's undivided attention. Kate paused and glanced into Heath's eyes. It was obvious to strangers they had a connection that went beyond words.

When they were alone, Kate tugged at Heath's shirt and gave him the lamb sandwich she'd made in the kitchen especially for him. They were having a roast today at the girl's school and Kate knew it was Heath's favourite. He thanked her, pulled off the lamb, wolfed it down then left the bread. Heath was always starving these days. It was as if none of the food he ate satisfied him.

'C'mon, I also bought us tea…' Kate had her flask and some more lamb and chicken wrapped in a satchel. Heath grimaced, but realised weak tea kept him hydrated. Kate was always trying to look after him, even though they'd be seeing each other less now that they were both studying for half-term finals.

'You really did rock, Heath,' she whispered, looking up at him when she said it. He tried not to beam so hard. He grew happy and less prideful under her gaze but he held back from saying what he wanted to say. Heath wanted to tell Kate Spencer how much he loved her but he couldn't. If he told her, he felt sure that she would torture him, use it against him and tease him more than she usually did. It was in her nature to be both a chameleon and contrite. He wouldn't say the words until he was sure she felt the same.

They agreed to meet at the cottage to study for their exams. They enjoyed meeting up, just to read and talk like they used to when they lived in London.

The cottage was a secret meeting place that had been used for decades by the students from both schools. Built into a stone wall that marked the outside gate of the shared sporting grounds, it could only be reached by running (or walking very quickly) far out of sight across the never ending playing fields and through a kind of dugout that led to an even more lush pasture.

The dwelling had been uninhabited for at least a decade. The hut had been built in the curve. High on the hill, it lay abandoned when no one had bothered to demolish it. Most of the students knew of its existence and it was the "go to" place for midnight feasts… and lover's meetings.

By the time Kate arrived, windswept and dishevelled, Heath had caught her up.

The interior of the cottage had recently been renovated by teenagers. There was evidence of junk food and discarded games, posters tagged on walls, various blankets and duvets rolled into a cupboard, and a well-used fireplace. It was the perfect spot for a winter picnic.

'Reminds me a little bit of Hampstead,' Kate said, looking out the window.

'Scotland reminds me of nothing in the South. It's…lonelier…wilder,' he said, rubbing his mouth when Kate couldn't see. He suddenly needed his incisors filed but he wasn't going to admit it. Only Heath could feel the sharp tips of the teeth inside his mouth, reminding him of his true nature. Kate placed the food on the red checked table cloth over the low coffee table as Heath lit the fire. The boy hungrily demolished the roast chicken from Kate's satchel as the girl looked on in amusement. She spread out the board game on the floor. The pair of them began playing Scrabble in their usual competitive way until Kate, bored with the game, messed up her side with the pieces tumbling across the floor amidst a cloud of laughter.

'This is such a boring game,' she said. 'I've never understood why I can't make up words… '

She leaned over towards him. Heath felt unexpectedly nervous, but tried to act cool.

'What sort of words?'

'Oh, you know. Words they don't teach us at school…' Kate smiled wickedly then changed the subject.

'I am so bored with classes but I can't wait to see your band perform tomorrow night. I miss Hampstead. I miss the glass house where we used to go… to hunt for food…and flowers…'

Kate loved flowers. She'd even given Heath some edible ones once, when he was little, which he'd duly tried to eat. Kate rolled onto her back and stared up at the low beamed roof. Heath looked bashful. The fire flickered, creating artistic shadows of the pair on the inside of the cottage.

'I think we should play a different game…' Kate said.

Heath looked at Kate incredulously, as he turned the page of his History text. He hadn't expected this.

Kate reached over and stroked his hair. He could still feel the touch of her fingers, moments later. Overwhelmed, he took her hand in his and used all of his willpower to stop himself pulling her to him and fanging her. He didn't want to mess things up with Kate before they were ready. Heath ached for her loveliness; she was part of him more than anything or anyone ever could be or would be. When he thought of his biological family, he was dismissive of them. He didn't remember their faces. Besides, they had abandoned him when they discovered he was a bloodsucking freak; just as his friends would probably turn on him, if they knew the truth.

He dropped his pen and changed the subject. 'What…what are your plans for next year?'

Kate laughed… 'Okay, we'll play your way. Let's see, if I wasn't going to be a famous painter, do you know what I'd be?'

'I don't,' Heath replied as she plaited her hair into a braid.

'Well, I love my horse so…I'd be a vet…and save the animals…'

'You'd have to study hard for that,' Heath said sarcastically, glancing back at the words on his page.

'What, don't you think I'm capable?'

Heath knew Kate could do anything she set her mind to, starting with gaining access to the school kitchen when he couldn't, but it wouldn't pay to compliment her right now. She was far more confident than he was.

'It's not that,' he hedged. 'I'm just not sure if you have the dedication,' he replied, turning his head so she couldn't see his smile.

'Oh, you…'

He reached over and caught her hand. Kate looked up at Heath with a devotion she quickly hid with words.

'Let me get closer to the fire. It's freezing in here…' Kate said.

Heath moved closer to her, closer to the flames which were weak, but turned and crackled forming a strong light.

Heath made the first move. He put his hand on Kate's hair and she held his gaze.

'Run away with me Kate.'

Kate laughed.

'When? Where to?'

'When we've finished school, after we turn eighteen. We could go to Prague or Paris or Spain.'

'What with?'

'We'll get jobs…'

'I can't just abandon everything…my family…'

'Apart from your father, they've abandoned us…

Kate considered this for a moment.

'I know. Harrison is…not to be trusted and mother lets him sign everything. He controls all her assets after she and father separated. She even signed half of the house into his name. Mother never did like responsibility.' Kate reached out to Heath and he leant over and kissed her wrist, softly, again.

Kate opened her eyes wide, suddenly seeing the future.

'Yes, let's do it. Let's go to Spain. I'll study art and design, though I once thought Paris might be the place for that. Never mind, I'm sure they have good design schools in Spain and you can…start a band… only we've no money, not a cent. It's just a fantasy, Heath. Ten minutes in another country without a roof over our heads and we'd be fighting all the time. And…'

'What?' He wanted her to say it but she wouldn't.

'…and liking each other less…'

'I could never like you less, Kate. There is no such possibility.'

'Why?'

'Because I love you.'

Kate liked it when he spoke like this, but it worried her. 'I know,' was all she said.

What she should have said, and what she later regretted not saying was that she also loved him. It was obvious. Her journals were testament to this. Each one covering a year in their lives together, written in schoolgirl writing, with train tickets and photographs taken on her polaroid when Heath was least expecting it, pasted into the pages. She kept the most recent one hidden under her bed. Her favourite photograph was one she took of Heath in his navy blue school blazer standing on the playing fields with a bemused look on his face, just as he realised she was the culprit – the school photo journalist.

Kate glanced longingly at Heath after he'd kissed her again. She looked into his perfect eyes and felt the hard cut of his arm muscles. This boy, soon to be a man, was everything to her. He was her whole life, the male version of herself. She knew to be wary, though - family neglect had taught her this; not to let him know her entire being was his to do with as he pleased. Kate sat up and glanced down at her shoe, resolving to change the subject.

Heath loved that about her - the two versions. In this version, Kate had fresh colour rising in her cheeks. He wanted to be closer to her, to touch the vein in her wrist, her neck, to kiss her lips, but he didn't dare move.

'I think you should take your studies more seriously, never mind about me. I could never love a man, who didn't know at least as much as me,' she joked as she packed up the chess pieces.

'Well, then, there are a great many men for you to love,' Heath replied with a raised eyebrow.

'Oh, you…' Kate threw one of the Scrabble pieces his way.

Heath laughed in return, loving that he could get to her so easily.

He had applied to various universities but he wasn't sure what he wanted. Beyond Kate's love, nothing. He'd gone through the motions, telling no one before now that he'd considered applying to Oxford. He'd organised teachers he knew would give him good references and because his marks were flawless, he had a reasonable chance of being accepted. He just had to pass the interviews. He'd studied every evening when he wasn't with Kate, and when he was, he studied late into the night. He wanted to achieve more than anyone he knew. More than anything, he wanted Kate to be proud of him.

They read some more and fell asleep beside the fire. When they woke the next morning, fully clothed, wrapped together under a pile of blankets, it was morning.

'C'mon,' Kate said, dusting off bread crumbs from her skirt, 'we don't want to miss chapel or they will notice and maybe stop me going to the gig tonight. Someone could report us…'

Heath rolled his eyes. 'You mean Hunt.'

'Really, he's not that bad. I think he wants to be your friend. Actually I think Annabelle is quite keen on you. You better be careful, Heath. Those secretive, silent girls are the worst with their little schoolgirl crushes…'

'Is that what you have on me?'

'Silly, I'm not the silent, secretive type,' Kate said.

It wasn't the answer Heath wanted to hear.

'Well, you never had to be.'

Heath turned with the coat and handed Kate her scarf.

'How can you joke like that Kate?'

'What? I'm just kidding.'

'How could you think there is anyone for me apart from you?'

'I…I think you like me too much. It will distract you from getting good marks in your finals.'

'Am I hearing things? Listen to yourself Kate. I don't "like" you too much. There is no "like" here.

Kate looked away, aware of the depth of her feelings for the handsome boy that stood opposite her. Over the past year, he'd grown a head taller than her. She had to look up in the morning half-light to meet his eyes. Again, she looked away.

'Look at me Kate.'

'I know most girls think you're hot.'

'Oh, so you're saying you don't?'

'Those girls don't know you, like I know you,' Kate said slowly. Before Kate was forced to answer, the door blew open as one of the younger students arrived, out of breath. 'Come quick,' he said, '… they're taking the register. They know someone broke into the kitchen last night and stole some chickens and the headmaster is going ballistic.'

Kate giggled while Heath grabbed their coats as they prepared to run. It would be wiser to attend roll call, or else it would be completely obvious they'd been out all night; and then Mr Spencer would be informed, or worse.

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**Linus**_

Katarina woke in the living room but she did not feel refreshed. The girl stepped quietly past her sleeping cousin and headed upstairs to retrieve her shoes. Much to her surprise, a shard of sunlight was shining through the floor length window of the room. The storm had subsided, leaving a wreck of mud and branches across the grounds of the estate. The girl pulled on her jumper and brushed her hair. The ancient brush looked like it had been passed down through many generations of the Spencer family. Katarina discovered some toothpaste in an old-fashioned bathroom. Upon scrutiny of her image in the mirror, she changed her mind and decided to take a shower. Katarina leaned in closely to the mirror, noticing the dark circles under her brown eyes, betraying her lack of sleep.

'Hello, how are you?'

The voice made her jump.

'You might have knocked.'

'Oh, no need to cover up. I've seen it all before,' Linus said breezily. 'I work in a theatre – stage management. You look as if you've seen a ghost.'

'Is that meant to be a joke?'

'Oh, you noticed it too…'

'What?'

'Last night, curtains moving, lights flickering, noises in the dark…' He made a strange horror movie noise and laughed.

'There was a woman…a stranger trying to get into my room…'

'Oh people have been saying stuff like that for years…'

'You're not going to tell me…'

'Oh, I'm here to tell you, it's all true. I'd never bring my friends home. Place is seriously haunted…'

Katarina didn't know if he was joking or not, nor did she know what to say in response to Linus' quick wit and even quicker turn of phrase. She decided she had no choice but to run with it. She smiled - at least it felt safer with another human being in the room.

'But enough of the gloom and doom, I'm interning in a theatre on the West End. I'll get you a ticket to come and see the latest show if you like. It's pretty good. I also organise dance parties on the weekends. Father does not approve, as you can imagine. What about you?'

'I like music and painting. I go to Art College and take photographs.'

'Cool.'

Linus held out his hand to Katarina, and she shook it.

A boy with what could only be described as wild hair and the appearance of an 80's punk, smiled back at her in the mirror. He messed his hair with his hands.

'So, do you like my new look?' Linus asked.

'It's…interesting but I never saw your old one.' Katarina replied.

'You must be Kat, Heath's niece, the one we've never met. I have the illustrious honour of being Heath's son. How is the old man?'

'Well, he's not very…old.'

'No, I know. But I'm guessing he's still pretty grumpy.' He pulled a face. 'I always try to get out of the house early. Father hates the fact that I go off to Brighton with my mates every weekend and can't stand the thought of working in his stuffy financial firm. But he was so young when he had me. Really, his idea of becoming a parent at this point in my life is a bit of a joke… Mind?' Linus took Kat's tube of toothpaste.

'I brought my own toothbrush,' Linus said reassuringly.

Katarina laughed.

'Oh, I'm going to write down my web page. We should stay in touch. Heath is sure to lose it at some point this morning, or he might already be out with the horses. In any case, you're going to want to run away from this house and never return…just like all the women in this family do.'

'Surely, they didn't all run away. Not all of them.'

'Yes, all of them,' the boy said regretfully.

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.'

Linus quickly changed the subject.

'Get dressed. We're meeting Hinton for breakfast; he likes to sketch in the cafe. Sometimes I think he's aiming to draw every nook and cranny in Hampstead. He and I don't really get on. So, it'll be quite funny to turn up at his favourite breakfast hangout with you in tow. He takes all his notes and paper to draw people there. He's obsessed with capturing their images. I'm sure I can't see any point in that…' Linus said breezily.

Linus talked on and it was hard not to like him, with his easy way and humorous take on the world.

Greta called upstairs, 'and what would you both like for breakfast?'

'Nothing darling,' Linus said theatrically. 'I'm taking my cousin out. You're welcome to join us,' he added.

'No Linus, I only popped in to drop off the groceries,' Greta said warily.

'Bring you back one of those lovely frosted buns from the French bakery for morning tea, then, eh?' Linus said, dragging Katarina down the stairs with him.

'Oh, have you said goodbye to your father?'

'Goodbye? We haven't said good morning. He's out with the horses. Tell him I'll see him tonight.'

Greta rolled her eyes.

'And with a bit of luck,' Linus said under his breath, 'he'll be asleep by nine pm.'

Katarina laughed.

'He was…quite the gentleman around me.'

'Oh, that's just because you don't know him, yet.'

'I get the feeling our families never wanted us to meet,' Katarina said as they walked down the sunny driveway, slippery from last night's hail storm.

'Here, take these.'

Linus handed Katarina a pair of gumboots. They both carried their shoes in their hands.

'The calm after the storm. C'mon, I know a shortcut,' Linus said enthusiastically.

'Near my house?'

'Something like that,' the boy said as they walked through the sunken garden, across the heath, towards The Grange and past the private, hidden glass conservatory that was tucked behind the Summer House.

'My father used to come here… with your mother, when they were children.'

'I know,' Katarina said. 'I'm reading her journal. I found it under the bed last night.'

Linus looked shocked. 'Oh, that must be another one,' he said, reaching for the diary.

'Not until I've read this one,' Katarina replied. 'I'm only on page eighteen…but sometimes I think this is the place she was happiest.'

Her cousin shrugged. 'Just up ahead, past the conservatory on our left, past the fancy house on the corner, is our café.'

Linus took Katarina's arm and she suddenly felt adopted by her cousin, like a new best friend.

Linus pulled a face as they removed their muddy boots at the door of the café and replaced them with their own shoes. 'There he is, sitting all sullen in the corner table. And in about ten seconds, Hinton will… look up.' As if on cue, that's what happened. Linus and Katarina laughed. Hinton didn't smile. He scowled and hastily gathered his sketches.

Hinton was just as unwelcoming and monosyllabic when they sat at the table with him. He'd already eaten a plate of bacon which Katarina thought was really unhealthy. Katarina ordered tea and poached eggs with toast and Linus ordered muesli with strawberries and yoghurt. A jug of blood orange juice was placed on the table and Hinton guzzled two glasses. He then proceeded to wolf down a second breakfast of eggs (he left the toast on the side) as he sketched the interior of the café, practically ignoring Linus and Katarina, who couldn't get over the difference in his personality from the previous night.

As he looked up briefly from his sketches, Hinton barely nodded. Nevertheless, Katarina, was in her element, surrounded by new family. Her two cousins seemed to be far more interested in themselves and their plans that her, but Katarina didn't mind. Hinton had an exhibition to prepare and Linus started chatting about the play he was stage managing. When the sun shone through the window, Hinton shifted from the direct light and began to get restless as he shuffled his papers. Katarina was keen to get back to her mother's diary, but was wary of appearing (unlike her cousins) rude. Besides, it felt nice to be amongst what were for all intents and purposes, her family.

As they finished their breakfasts and she read the paper, Katarina noticed Hinton peering at the words on her page. She looked up and sounded out the word, incandescent. Hinton looked away.

'Do you wear glasses, Hinton?'

'No,' Hinton replied taking offence through a mouthful of bacon. He chugged down the rest of his orange juice then began gulping his coffee. His hunger seemed to have no end.

'Oh, don't mind him Katarina. Hinton always wolfs down his food, don't you Hinton?' Linus said with a mocking smile.

Hinton raised an eyebrow, apparently used to his cousin's humour. Meanwhile it was obvious Hinton had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or couch as was the case the previous night. Katarina tried to make small talk but Hinton stopped drawing, folded his sketches and announced quietly that he had to go to college to work on his portfolio.

Katarina wanted to say, 'I'll come with you,' because she had planned to do the same, but she felt she didn't really know him well enough (except by reputation). From the way he was behaving it appeared he would not want her to accompany him. Hinton got up so quickly, he even left the scarf he was wearing, (her scarf, strangely enough), by her seat. He didn't want to give her an excuse to return to Hareton Hall.

After he left, Linus stirred his coffee as he spoke. "Oh, never mind him, Katarina. He's always more sociable in the evenings. Take no notice. I'm glad we met. Besides, it's obvious he likes you. I would too if we weren't related…' Linus smiled dramatically.

'Well, I suppose I should also be going…'

"Nonsense, you're coming with me to Portobello Road to buy new outfits before I go to my rehearsal. Then we're off to Camden town tomorrow and tomorrow night, in honour of having found you again, we're going to cook a feast and have some friends over for dinner. I have it on good authority that father will be out.'

Linus opened up the newspaper and sure enough, inside the lift out, there was a picture of Heath, in a dinner suit standing with his most recent girlfriend. She was also a company director and the daughter of a media mogul. Heath was announcing a charity ball that would be sponsored by the family company, _Heath & Sons,_ that evening.

'Mmm… sons,' Linus mused, 'how optimistic. I think that means me… and Hinton, though I don't think we were quite what father was expecting.'

Linus leaned in close 'You know Hinton can barely read, don't you? That's probably why he left suddenly.'

Katarina looked surprised. 'What? I thought there might be something wrong with his eyesight…'

'Oh, he sees clear as day; he can practically see in the dark. It's just that father was… well, he raised him to ride and take care of the animals. He was home schooled by Greta when we realised everyone was just going to make fun of him at regular school. It was terrible. Keep this to yourself. Father hates it when I talk about the family publicly but there's always been a lot of tension between us,' Linus stated matter-of-factly. 'I mean, he's not exactly thrilled with my choice of…career but at least I'm literate.'

Linus went beyond the insinuation that Hinton was not. 'Oh, he's clever. It's just that he has dyslexia and never really had it diagnosed properly and now… he's too embarrassed to ask for lessons.'

'Well, I was good at English at school. Maybe I could help him. He seems so clever. It's hard to believe he can't read…' Katarina said.

'Maybe. Hinton's unsociable. I've tried and he won't talk to me. We just don't really like each other, I suppose. I mean, we're not blood relations but we were raised together. Sometimes it's just the way things are…'

Katarina resolved in some way to help her adopted cousin as she sipped her tea, constantly entertained by quips from Linus.

When the waiter came and Linus, ever the gentleman, reached for the bill, Katarina couldn't resist.

'By the way, last night, I saw something… well, someone. It was a person, I'm sure of it. A woman tried to get into the room as I slept. I didn't see her face clearly in the dark but…'

'Is that why you screamed?'

'Yes… '

'Perhaps it was a nightmare. Being too much in father's company will do that to a person.' Linus replied, always the joker.

'No… I mean… a woman… I didn't see her face. I saw her hand reach through the window. It was so real, I could almost touch her fingers…'

Linus shivered. He let the silence hang between them for a moment until he spoke…

'It's her again.'

'Who?'

'C'mon, we'll talk outside.'

Linus offered to pay the bill and they walked out towards the tube station on Hampstead High Street.

'I'm not sure it's really my place to say and I'm not exactly sure what you saw but…' Linus glanced over at his cousin with a serious expression on his face…

'Go on…'

'Well, Father should have warned you… but it looks like it's up to me, as usual. Hareton Hall is a freak show.'

Katarina just looked at her cousin; she didn't know what to say. Of course, she hadn't believed in haunted houses before. But then, she had never confronted the possibility of their existence until last night. She suspected some more answers might be locked inside the cover of the diary she now kept. They changed trains. The underground was semi-empty this morning. When the tube stopped at Notting Hill, they walked to Linus' car. He'd parked it outside the station when he couldn't drive home the previous night.

'Jump in, we'll go to the markets then I'll drop you home. Oh, I almost forgot, there's an old school yearbook with empty pages at the back that your mother wrote in extensively. I'd been putting my stuff in storage, preparing to move into a flat in Bayswater but I took this by mistake from the wardrobe. I was going to put it back but I think you might like it. It's in the back seat. I found it a while ago and kept it, so it wouldn't be amongst the things you already have. You could add it to your… investigation. I was never terribly interested, to be honest, so I didn't bother reading it. I just flicked through the photos. Oh, but I wouldn't tell father. He's very secretive about that part of his life, the part he spent with… your mother.'

He reached in and handed Katarina the package.

Katarina took the album possessively and opened a page that contained letters stuck into opened envelopes. They were undated and the post stamp was unclear. Kate's childish handwriting but sophisticated language described a pre-holiday dance where Heath's band was due to perform. _I'm so excited for The Battle of the Bands, _was a sentence that stood out. Her mother had even stuck a small piece of the pink voile from her dress on the page as a keepsake. Katarina ran her fingers over the material. After the first ten pages, which were obviously written by her mother, there was another letter signed by Heath.

'Does your father know we have this?'

'I doubt it,' Linus said. 'All of this was so long ago. Most of it is undated but they must have been written over twenty years ago - way back in the nineties. Anyway, father has no idea what is in every nook and cranny of the house. Probably forgot he ever wrote this stuff. It's bizarre to read. Your mother must've stuck the letters in there. Hard to believe people actually _wrote_ letters back then…' Her cousin trailed off.

Katarina, finding them impossible to resist, stuffed the notes in her bag.

As Linus turned on the ignition, Katarina suddenly wished she was alone at The Grange to ponder her mother's words in detail.

**Chapter Fourteen **

_**Letters **_

_From Kate to Heath _

_Dearest Heath_

_It's the night after the dance and I've been told to pack and be ready to leave in an hour. No one will tell me why I'm wanted at The Hall. It may be something to do with Harrison. No one can find you. I think you must be out hunting. Father insists I am to return home on the next train. My bags are packed and I'm writing this to you in case you don't arrive in time to catch the train with me. I want you to know what I have never told you enough - how much I love you. I am leaving this under your door to read when you return. _

_I keep thinking of the events that led to me being separated from you and wanted to clear up the misunderstanding that occurred… I'm going back to the beginning…_

_Annabelle stopped by (such a swat) on her way from the school library, to show me her dress. Don't ask me how we've become friends but I suppose that's what you could call us, until tonight. Anyway, I'd been trying to get her to wear contacts for ages, and finally she'd agreed. It was like a new person greeted me at the door._

'_Kate, you look beautiful,' she said. I felt it was my turn to repay her compliment._

_We sat together at my dresser, me in my pink satin slip, bought especially to go with my dress for the occasion (I can't believe I'm writing this down!) to impress you later as we planned! Annabelle had draped my dressing gown over her clothes and was trying on my slippers. We painted our nails to match our dresses. Afterwards, I did Annabelle's makeup. I was quite thrilled to have made Belle my personal project as I felt her transformation on the surface would lead to a more profound transformation of her personality._

_I was so excited to see your band play in front of a real audience for the first time. I knew you'd rock the place out; you're so hot and talented, how could you be anything but amazing? And you were amazing, Heath. Don't ever let anyone make you feel different, just because you are. _

_When Annabelle emerged from my bathroom transformed in a cream and silver tasselled dress, I was surprised. Then I complimented my new friend._

'_Wow,' I said, 'you look completely amazing!'_

'_Do you think so? Do you think anyone will notice?'_

_By "anyone" I was pretty sure she meant you and I ignored the insinuation. _

'_Of course, you look beautiful Annabelle,' I said, and meant it._

_Annabelle smiled. She said she knew her pale, icy prettiness wouldn't last. 'I have a slim figure but I know I lack the… specialness that would make a boy like Heath, for example, sit up and take notice.'_

_I knew she wanted me to disagree, but I could never just let her think you were hers for the taking. Instead, I told her any guy would be lucky to have her. And I believed it, (unless that guy was you, of course). Annabelle was, or rather is, perfect girlfriend material, more perfect than me. She's perfectly boring, perfectly spoken and perfectly nice. How could you not like her Heath? Tell me what I saw never happened! Do you remember how much we hated the Hunts as children? How we used to laugh at them?_

_Of course, Edmund has always disliked you because you were braver than him – or so I thought. He called you "rough" but I know Annabelle secretly had a crush on you from the time we all met up at Hareton Hall during summer holidays and I put on a fashion show. Remember? _

_The fashion show began and ended with me showing off my new sports uniform. All of our school friends came and it was my idea to donate the door money to charity! Annabelle was invited to model also, but I went first. Edmund and Annabelle took their seats, open mouthed, on the floor. I'd set up the old ballroom like a theatre and forced you to grudgingly hold the curtains and shine the spotlight. You studied our neighbouring friends without hiding your irritation. You still hadn't forgiven their father for accusing you of harming their dog when we were small, and I don't blame you. You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but inside The Hall that day but this was a chance to "let bygones be bygones," as Greta once said._

'_May I take your coat, Annabelle?' I remember Greta asking. _

'_Yes, thank you very much,' the girl with milk skin answered. You must have found her vaguely pretty, I'm sure, even though you barely showed her any attention when she modelled and clapped loudly when I did. If both she and her brother hadn't irritated us so much with their bland, insipid privilege, perhaps we would all have been friends, earlier. But we always preferred being outside when we were children, didn't we? Playing on Hampstead Heath in the wind, remember?_

_Anyway, earlier tonight Annabelle continued to blabber on as we got ready. _

'_I honestly think Heath is the most handsome boy I've ever met.'_

_I couldn't disagree. I sometimes wonder if Annabelle's plan to befriend me had something to do with wanting to be near you. She stood up and hovered at the entrance to my room when she was nearly ready as if she wanted to share more unasked for information. _

_I turned around from my dressing table._

'_You look like… a princess,' she gasped. It was her turn to flatter me. Annabelle was still gawping at my darkly made up eyes, long gloves, low-cut dress and glitter eye shadow. 'Although I'm not sure the school…' _

'_Oh, I couldn't care less if I get a stupid demerit for wearing a revealing outfit…' I said. 'Don't look so shocked, Annabelle. Come over here and help me tease my hair. It is a 1960's theme after all!'_

'_You look…amazing,' she said as I applied my pale, pink lipstick. _

_It was eight in the evening and the Battle of the Bands Dance had been going for at least half an hour when we arrived. We stood at the top of the stairs surveying the scene we helped create, glitter ball and all. It was spectacular. I knew you were on last and your band was the only one I wanted to cheer for Heath. I thought the school hall, lit up with disco lights, looked amazing, didn't you? I took Annabelle's cream gloved hand in my pink gloved one as we casually walked down the staircase towards the cloak room and saw the whole school lit up with a banner that read Sixth Form Dance._

_When your band played, you guys were awesome. We clapped wildly so you would hear us but you looked straight past me and smiled at Annabelle! She smiled back! I happen to know you'd barely said more than two words to her in all your life, yet she was convinced you were in love with her after that. How could this be so, Heath? I am sorry for doubting you but as her obsession seemed to know no limits. I couldn't help but wonder if you had ever done anything at all to encourage her. _

_The lights were lowered as the heating and the energy in the room warmed and I noticed you pour something from a flask into your water bottle. I think, maybe, you had forgotten your Magenta. You looked hungry. _

_The band started playing again and you were amazing as I always knew you would be. Annabelle's face lit up and I would have started laughing if it wasn't so annoying. I suppose I just decided to fight fire with fire. _

_Soon I was surrounded by a group of boys and some of them started dancing and thrashing to the music and I was caught up in the throng of activity. Food was passed around, teachers stood back and hovered, talking amongst themselves, finally letting everyone dance without bothering to interrupt. _

_The set stopped and afterwards, I saw you attempt to move towards me as Annabelle headed in the opposite direction. You didn't push past her as I expected you to and I refused to show anyone I'd noticed. You looked embarrassed when she clutched your arm and told you how great you were but perhaps you had matured too much to be openly rude as you once might have been. I could barely hear your voices above the dance music but the conversation went something like this: _

'_Hi. The band was amazing,' Annabelle said. _

_You were flattered. I could tell by the careful way you smiled and said, 'Thanks Annabelle.' _

'_It reminds me of the music we played when Kate and I used to make up dances and modelling shows… remember when we lived next door to each other.'_

_How interesting, I thought, when Annabelle knew the dances and fashion shows were entirely directed by me._

'_Of course,' you said, 'how could I forget? You were always so creative,' I could not believe what I was hearing. I also couldn't believe any girl could be quite so…obvious or that you could flatter her so easily. You started packing your guitar in its case and you didn't even give me a second glance. _

_I admit I was occupied with a group of friends by this point but that was because I was so annoyed that you had all but ignored me. How could you, Heath? Finally, you glanced over at me but I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of realising that I'd noticed. I realise now, you were mad at me for not telling you I loved you in return in the cottage the day before. But did you have to pay me back by flirting with Annabelle? It worked. _

_In fact, I barely gave a second to look in your direction. The look on your face said it all. I admit, I was wondering if you were having second thoughts about us. It is true that you are from another world but that is not why I love you, I know that. I know that you would love me even if we'd been brought up together on the street. Games are for other people, Heath, not us. _

_You only have to be yourself with me and I love you completely, for that alone. You once told me you could do anything you wanted, be anyone you wanted and so could I. I am so much like you; I am you. You left too early from the dance, if you heard my reply to Edmund's question but not my true answer. Please come back to me. Save me from whatever fate has in store for me without you. If you are reading this, I am on the train alone and you did not return in time to come with me. I shall wait for you at Hareton Hall…almost as if, although separate, we are one. _

_I love you more than words can ever say._

_Yours forever,_

_Kate _

_The second letter was in Heath's handwriting, dated that night:_

_Dearest Kate_

_Love and loyalty forever, without one the other doesn't exist! How could you imagine otherwise? I have not stopped thinking about you since we parted tonight and I'm writing this now, to give to you in the morning since the house mistress said you could not see me tonight. I walked over to the girls' school to find you but the teachers wouldn't tell me where you had gone. Someone said you had been taken back to London and that because no one could locate me, I am to leave on the morning train. They won't tell me why either, just that I am wanted at home. _

_I feel the need to set things straight between us, since this is our first quarrel and I could not go to sleep angry – or go to sleep at all knowing you are on your way to Hareton Hall without me. I shall give this to you when I see you since it will be easier than spoken words. _

_I hope father is okay. You know I love him as if he were my own, and I have a strange feeling something is up from the way the school counsellor has been speaking to me with added empathy. No one will tell me anything. _

_I hope you at least decide to open this because I know you were angry with me last night. In light of what has happened, our quarrel seems pointless, so please, when you receive this, don't just throw it out the window. You know I never write letters, never, but I am making the exception for you, because you are special Kate and always will be, because I love you forever and you know I always will._

_I'm going to start at the beginning and I'm warning you, this letter is going to be more than a few pages long…_

_Okay, it's true that I was deeply embarrassed by Annabelle being "all over me" as you put it. In my defence, it was past eight and I hadn't been able to get to my supplies and I felt strangely weakened, my desire for blood stronger than ever. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but it is the truth. I won't go on about it but I was feeling less than my best which may have added to the perception that I was ignoring you. Remember Kate, it is hard to be the one saying "I love you," and not hearing those words in return. _

_As for the Band Battle, I think we were attracting a few fans (this bit is supposed to make you laugh!) but I admit Annabelle was very obvious tonight. Even our drummer noticed her behaviour. She credited you with her makeover! Perhaps you should have given her a make-under - just kidding. Yes, I smiled back at her as I glanced around the room, waiting for YOU who seemed to be ignoring me! We had agreed to meet outside after the set had finished, to continue the party…elsewhere. But the scout from London was here and the band wanted me to put in an appearance. After he left, Mr Jones was on the war path trying to round up the boys who spiked the punch …guess who? Annabelle was a decoy, someone to hide behind. I am ashamed to say that is why I went outside with her and this is what happened next…_

_Annabelle sipped her drink and tried to make conversation, thrilling lines such as:_

'_Do you have plans, Heath, for when school ends?'_

_I replied, 'yes,' wondering how long before it would be safe to go inside._

'_I don't… not really. Father wants me to apply for university. I thought I might like to go to Art College in London instead.'_

_I nodded, still waiting for you, feigning interest in her vapid conversation. I glanced through the glass doors and saw you and the moronic Edmund Hunt, dancing. Great choice if you wanted to make me jealous Kate, it worked._

_Annabelle looked up and said, 'My brother seems to have taken a shine to…your sister.'_

_I gulped my drink as one of the band made a secretive gesture in his direction indicating more alcohol would be forthcoming. _

'_She's… not my sister,' I said quickly (because you aren't!)_

'_No… I'm sorry, of course not, but you were raised together…' Annabelle added, more annoyingly than ever. _

'_Only until we came here…almost six years ago now,' I replied, setting the record straight. _

_Annabelle then changed the subject._

'_I thought I'd hate it here but sometimes I prefer the school to home. I like having friends of my own.'_

_(I'm not sure what you said to her that afternoon, Kate, but she was under the impression you were her new best friend!)_

_I admit, it's true, this next part makes me seem inconsiderate but I was bored by her conversation and looked around the room. I became even more annoyed by your flirty behaviour with rich boy Edmund. Annabelle was all…wobbly by then. I think she'd been drinking too much punch even though it was never designed for her! She kept putting her hand on my shoulder to steady herself and at one point I returned the gesture to hold her up!_

_I looked across the room and there you were, beautiful in your pink dress, glaring at me. You turned your head (to listen to Edmund's scintillating conversation, no doubt). _

_Annabelle said, 'Oh look, Kate's dress fans out in waves across the floor, in waves at her feet like the ocean…'_

_And at that moment, that's exactly where I wanted to be with you. As far away from that school and our families and all the people who ever knew us, because I only want you, Kate, forever. _

_Then, the music reached a fever pitch and Annabelle was jumping up and down and you were in the middle of the group and I was watching you and then you…fell down._

'_Oh,' Annabelle said, suddenly still, 'I hope Kate's okay.'_

_I moved towards you but Edmund Hunt got there first. _

_Annabelle looked at me all gaga by then. It's true that I glanced at her, but more like she was a consolation prize! This was just as you turned heads paying Edmund your undivided attention! (One of my teammates once walked in on the pair of them – brother and sister – trying to teach each other to dance in the student common room!) Honestly, Kate, we should never let either of them get between us. They are not worth it! (Jealous? Yes, at least I admit it!) I turned away as Edmund was helping you up. _

'_Do you want to go outside?' Annabelle asked me, unexpectedly. _

_What was I supposed to say? I suppose I could have declined and stormed off like a girl but I wanted to make you pay. I'm sorry, I know that love is patient and kind; I know that is what we are taught but you and I are different. Words are not enough. I just want to be with you…impatiently, all the time. And sometimes I want to suck the vein in your wrist but I hold back because I'm trying to be better than that for you Kate, I'm trying not to have to be what I was born to be. You make me try to be a better man. Tonight I was less than my best, I know…_

_The balcony was divided into sections for groups to talk and socialize. _

_I made sure rich boy saw me as you told Edmund you were okay while he helped you outside. I wanted to make you jealous so I put my arm around Annabelle then released her moments later. _

'_Wait here,' I told Annabelle, 'I'm going to get you some water. I'll be back in a moment.' That's when I heard you. Rich boy spoke first._

'_Are you sure you're okay?'_

'_Ah, I think it might be some kind of… minor sprain,' you said. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to… ?'_

'_No, I like the fresh air.'_

_I could hear your words clearly Kate as I went to get Annabelle's drink. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to your room? Or would you like me to get…your friend, the one you're always hanging out with,' Edmund said jealously I might add. _

'_That is not necessary, I do some things by myself you know… and we are not always together.' I could hear those words Kate! You spoke them!_

'_Well, certainly, people don't see you together but I've heard…' he went on._

'_Perhaps you listen to too much student gossip…' you sounded mortified that people might guess we were together!_

'_No…not at all,' Edmund said, 'I just thought you were with…'_

_I was standing outside the balcony tent by then, hidden from view, but once I heard the topic of conversation I couldn't resist pausing. Trust is fragile Kate! You need to explain the rest to me because I never stop loving you no matter what you do…you added these words: _

'_There is nothing to think… I'm my own person. I'm not with…anyone. I don't have a boyfriend…'_

_I admit I freaked out standing there in the shadows like a stranger to your life. Hadn't we just spent the morning together? Hadn't we been closer to each other than anyone else in this life? I wanted to teach you a lesson for being disloyal, so I stormed off through the crowd._

_By now you must know, Annabelle means nothing to me, nothing. YOU ARE MY LIFE KATE SPENCER._

_Later_

_Then I woke up this morning to hear your father had died suddenly. I am on the morning train to London, drinking my supply. Honestly, I feel completely lost and only want to see your face again. Our petty argument seems just that. He was the only father I ever knew, too, Kate. I never met a kinder more sincere man in my life. I'm so sorry, Kate. _

_I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER. _

_I will be at Hareton Hall as soon as possible _

_Hxxxxxxxxxxxx. (and here the page was smothered in at least a dozen kisses and hugs and what looked like the smudge of tears…) _

I read over the childish letters in the dark. It seemed plausible that Kate and Heath were separated as part of a plan Harrison was forming.

Soon after, Kate was sent to Finishing School in Switzerland, where she stayed for three months until her eighteenth birthday. Both sets of school fees were cancelled and Heath was thrown out of the house, onto the street, his inheritance "absorbed" in the family trust and expenditure – justified by Harrison's appointment as the executor of the family estate. Neither of the younger Spencers appears to have completed secondary school in Scotland. A final letter from Kate (written in Switzerland) filled me in on some of the missing details.

_Dear Heath _

_By now you will know where I am and why and I wait patiently to join you. _

_How typical of Harrison to have tricked the school into separating us, and how alone and terrible I feel without you now. I wait for you and please know everything that happened at the dance is ancient history; it all means nothing in light of recent events. I still cannot believe father is gone. _

_Greta is taking this with her and has promised to give it only to you. Harrison, as you know, confined me to my room before I was packed off to Switzerland. He locked the door and barred the window after he dragged me from your path and would not let me leave this room. He says my place is with my family and not with "a freak". But you are my family Heath, and if that makes us freaks together, so be it. We will meet as planned and Harrison will never separate us again. _

_You won't believe what he has done! His new girlfriend, Frances (we call her Franny and so far she is a good natured sort of person, trying to bring me food and drink when Harrison is not about) is soon to be his wife! The little boy (a mere toddler) is her brother. His name is Hinton. They allowed him into my room to give me company before I was packed off to Finishing School. How kind of them. He too is a good natured little boy, with a face like a cherub. He likes to play with his toys and offers them to me to "make me better". I hate to imagine how Harrison's influence could change him since he is such a sweet child. I have tried to warn Frances but she is so "in love" she refuses to listen, and so far, Harrison has only presented his nicer side. He insists I am in my room for my own good and I barely have the energy to resist any more. With you gone, I have nowhere to turn. I have enclosed half the money we saved together in my piggy bank as children. I'd hidden it and you will need it more than me. Please don't send it back! _

_This will be shorter than the last letter. I just want to clear up what happened at the stupid Battle of the Bands and we can talk when I finally see you. Greta has promised to send you the details and I know you will contact her; I just know it. _

_Our school days seem pretty aimless in light of what has happened. Father died in my arms just before you arrived home. It was horrible, Heath. I miss him so much. I think he was our only ally. _

_Back to our stupid misunderstanding; I know my thoughtless behaviour hurt you more than any beating or withdrawal of privileges we ever received from Harrison, just as yours did me; so not worth it. I love you, too, more than anything or anyone else. You should know, before we make plans, that this is what happened after you left the ball room that night. _

_I told Edmund that I couldn't ever go out with him. He asked me if I was "attached" to anyone (which I found old fashioned and funny although I hardly imagine myself laughing ever again right now.)_

'_I can't go out with you, Edmund,' I said._

'_But, you just told me you are not attached to anyone,' he replied._

_**That's because I'm… more than attached**__. Those were my exact words, but you didn't stay in the room long enough to hear them. _

_I added, 'It is true that you don't see Heath and I together… in public or at school much but… we are more__** than attached**__. We are together in secret. We plan to move to London next year but of course my older brother would never approve so we just keep it to ourselves. It is true we are young but we are like, __**the same person. **__I could never imagine being without Heath.' And blah blah blah I went on, embarrassed to be relaying those words now, but they are TRUE. _

'_I see,' Edmund replied. Pale and dorky though he is; I think he meant us both well. 'I knew you were close… Anyway, I'm going up to Cambridge next year….' And after I had assured him there was no hope we would ever be more than friends, Edmund looked away, hurt. So please don't hate him for liking me because I think he is actually a good person. He seemed to understand and asked if we could remain friends. I didn't know what else to say so I said "yes", but truly, it all meant nothing. I tried to get up but the pain in my ankle made me hesitate. I looked for you but you were NOWHERE. That night I dreamt that we were parted and I begged you to come back to me. _

_Tell me this isn't true! _

_COME BACK TO ME NOW HEATH. I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER AND EVER._

_Love Kate (sealed with a thousand kisses)_

**Chapter Fifteen**

_**Shadows **_

And here I sat, the daughter of such a woman. I was quite surprised, I admit, at the evident depth of affection between her and Heath and quite annoyed at how meanly Heath had spoken of my loyal, kind and loving father. It was hard to get over the disloyalty in my mother's letters, but I tried to justify my reading of them in the name of "research".

Greta walked into the kitchen light and she relayed to me the story of Kate and Heath's parting. As we sipped tea and I waited for my cousin Hinton to emerge so we could go and work at the studio like we planned.

This is what Greta told me:

'When Heath arrived home he was ignored by Harrison who had brought his new girlfriend with him. Heath was just counting down the days until he and Kate could go back to school. Harrison had other plans. He'd withdrawn the fees for both children for their final semester of school. They had no say in the matter.

Heath couldn't have cared less about boarding without Kate close by and Kate had never been academic. When we arrived back at The Hall, Heath discovered Kate in a heap, on the couch, crying over her father's old photographs. When I went in to take them some tea, they were huddled together so close; I thought no one would ever tear them apart. Heath was also distraught. Your grandfather had been the only adult (apart from me) to love him and take care of him.

When the news had arrived, the worst, Kate and Heath were left alone. Heath hugged Kate in the child's playroom while she wept and he unsuccessfully tried to hold back tears for the only man who had ever been a parent to him.

After, we all sat in the old playroom as the news from a television blared on in the background giving us all a good excuse not to talk. Repeat images of political unrest in other parts of the world were on replay in a documentary. It was an irony not lost on any of us, for it was obvious, our world within Hareton Hall was crumbling.

I agreed to stay on to try to protect the youngster Hinton and Harrison was seemingly civil to Kate throughout that week. He had more important plans to occupy his mind. We were stunned to discover he intended to install his new girlfriend Frances, as his wife, (they married at a registry office the following Saturday).

At first, Franny was warm towards Kate and barely civil to Heath, (taking her cue from Harrison). Once she'd married Harrison, she lost interest in everyone else in the house, including her younger brother, and took to going on long walks across the heath. Hareton Hall has that strange effect on people or maybe it was the revelation that her new husband wasn't all he seemed. Sometimes I'd hear him yelling at her in the night and would place my hands over young Hinton's ears. I thought it a blessing that Kate was to be sent away but it was mean of Harrison to cancel their fees for the final term.

Kate's older brother had made plans to conquer and divide the two younger "shareholders" as he thought of them. He'd never really been able to control Kate. Although there had been a vast inheritance left to both the younger Spencers, Harrison made sure that Heath's share was written off to various expenses. Heath and Kate were still minors, after all. The shares that remained were left to be invested in the family trust and managed by Harrison on behalf of the two teenagers.

Harrison insisted that Heath make his room in the basement and groom the horses every morning. Heath did so, happily in fact, preferring to be outside rather than anywhere near Harrison. I asked when Heath would be enrolled back in school but Harrison seemed to think that was nothing to be concerned about. I feared the worst; that he intended to throw Heath on the street the moment he turned eighteen the following week.

Both Heath and Kate were not unaware of the plot against them as they took the horses to be exercised on the heath that last cold, autumn day when Heath was still in my care. Kate was in a near dreamlike state with her grief having marked a serious return to study as nearly pointless. 'After all, how many artists need an academic education, Greta?' she asked me. Really, Kate was delusional.

Instinctively, Heath, who had never trusted Harrison, knew there would be changes at Hareton Hall and he suspected his plans for university would be delayed in some way without access to the necessary funds. He needed money to hire a lawyer and by the time he had that he knew the funds would be siphoned off. He just hung on, taking his medication as scheduled, accessing his secret supplies to normalize his blood, and all the time wanting to rip Harrison to shreds. He hung on for Kate, waiting for her to turn eighteen so they could run away and never be under the control of Harrison again. If they ran off too soon, Harrison would inform the authorities that he suspected Heath was a vampire. Though not illegal, it would officially be a mark against him for life. There was so much discrimination. For example, vampires had to get permission to hold certain jobs and human-vampire marriage was discouraged.

Meanwhile, Harrison had cancelled the cheques Heath had sent to apply for university and it was too late for him to enrol to finish the school term at the local comprehensive. A scholarship was out of the question until the following year. Heath turned eighteen in a matter of days and Harrison would no longer be his court appointed guardian. Kate and Heath tried not to think about the family tensions as they rode together that day.

Kate had started eating again, having lost her appetite for a week and I had wisely packed the picnic basket with a lunch of their favourite things. Kate had put in a bottle of apple cider for after and her favourite mohair red checked blanket. Harrison was busy planning his next party for his new wife and to impress future investors in the various businesses he had purchased. He'd also taken to drinking in the afternoons (not a good sign). Kate's older brother was only too happy not to be bothered with the younger members of the household as long as they were out of his sight.

Hampstead Heath was dotted with people on that autumnal Saturday; mother's pushing babies in prams, small children running and playing games with kites, picnicking groups. These appeared to be fully functioning families, Kate was thinking, unlike hers. The pergola offered beautiful views across Hampstead and there were artists sketching near The Hill Garden as Kate and Heath strolled. They walked with their horses for about thirty minutes to reach the hidden garden and Glass House. Near the fish pond at the far end of a small alcove, there was a lovers' bench with panoramic views of North London.

They placed a blanket on the ground after they'd found water for the animals. Kate placed the food in the centre, while they talked and enjoyed the spread of chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, tea and crusty French bread that lay before them. Well, Kate did. Heath only ate the chicken – all of it. It was to be their last carefree day. As if to recognize that fact the sun hid in shadows behind the clouds as they talked, finally spitting down in tiny drops of rain. They had to quickly pack up all their belongings and head for the hidden, glass arboretum. As children, escorted to a night fair, they had once seen the stars in the evening sky from the same spot.

'Do you forgive me for what I said, the night of the dance?' Kate asked. 'You should have stayed to hear the rest.'

'Of course, Kate, tell me again,' Heath said as he brushed her hair with his fingers.

'Well,' Kate said, sitting up. 'I added, after you left, that actually, you are rather…strange looking and maybe not quite my type…'

Heath laughed, looked irritated, then despondent but as he got up Kate pleaded with him, 'I'm joking. Look, I found our initials that we marked into the tree when we were children. Here they are, bigger than before, clear as if they were carved yesterday.'

Sure enough, the initials of the pair were hidden at the base of the tree in a place only they knew to look. The letters were a legacy of their youth.

'You see, I knew even then. There is no one else for me and it is true. In this world or any other, I have known we were meant for each other, forever.'

Kate placed her finger to his lips.

'We don't know what will happen, yet. We'll find out tomorrow.'

Tomorrow was Heath's eighteenth birthday. Kate's was three months later. After that, they planned to run away together and get married. They thought by making it all official, it would be difficult for Harrison to separate them. As the rain spat down upon the glass roof, Heath leant over the seat they shared and kissed Kate, pulling her closer.

'Kate Spencer, will you marry me?'

'Yes,' she said, confidently, after they kissed.

'I don't have the ring with me. It's being made…so this is the informal proposal part…' They'd been whispering about getting married for weeks. Once they were of age, they could sever all ties with Harrison and make their own decisions. Kate had already spoken to the vicar who had known her since childhood.

Heath and Kate had been planning to elope for weeks but recent family events had hastened the proceedings. Kate put her arms around him and they hugged. Together, they fell onto the ground, laughing. The girl rolled on top of him; she was very strong and athletic and had him in a gridlock, on his back as he tried to shake her off, all the time trying to kiss her beautiful neck.

Later that night, Kate wrote in her diary that her wedding to Heath would be a triumph of love and hope over reality.

'I need to hear you say it, Heath. What I'm about to do - run away with you - means my family will disown me and we can't ever behave like we did at the dance. There can never be…misunderstandings that we can't fix.'

'How can you doubt me for a second, Kate? You are my family now and I am yours. I have never loved nor will I love anyone the way I love you. You are everything to me. You are my world…and the only reason I'm here. I would have bolted a million miles away from Harrison by now if it didn't mean I'd miss you so much…' Suddenly the blood in Heath's veins surged. His mouth felt dry. He recognized the taste of venom in his mouth.

'Of course, I'm worried. Dr Vincent has told me that it's unlikely I will revert but I may evolve. On my birthday, the day I reach 'full maturity' as he put it, we don't know what will happen.'

'Whatever happens,' Kate said, 'I promise to be there.'

'Kate, I could start off mild…and then if I transition, I may become… uncontrollable.'

'I love you, Heath.'

'I love you too, Kate.'

'That's all I need to know.'

Heath covered Kate in kisses as she laughed and brushed the ground off their clothes.

'I'm glad we're making it official,' Heath said.

Kate smiled.

'We only have to wait until three months after your birthday, it's all arranged.' Kate said.

Heath hesitated, 'Remember, neither of us knows what…my condition will mean…' Just now, he'd nearly lost control and kissed her a little too close, too deep.

'I accept you, no matter what. But,' she joked, 'if you think we're too young…'

Heath's face dropped. 'You mean you're not sure?'

'Yes, of course I'm sure. I just want to try to smooth things over with Harrison. It will be easier on us.'

'Listen to me Kate, there is no "smoothing things over" with Harrison. He means to make our lives as difficult as possible. Harrison cannot be trusted. He will not help us and he will not help you if you try to make it up with him. You remember how he used to treat us as children? The hours where he would lock me in the basement and put you in a cupboard before father came home and discovered him? Don't you remember his callous behaviour, the cruel beatings?'

'Yes, of course I do. He was always jealous of how much father doted on us. He was jealous of how much you and I loved each other. He called our desires…unnatural. I often wondered what he meant since he was never told about your…condition.'

'I assumed he meant because we were raised together, but that hardly applies now.'

'Harrison is practically my only family… apart from you. I always thought once he got over his teenage phase… you know he really went off the rails at boarding school, going to wild parties, indulging in bad behaviour. He brought all of that home with him. I just thought he might change.'

'It's his nature, Kate. Some people don't change.'

'It would be easier… if he did.'

'You mean, it would be easier for us… financially.'

'Well, yes. I am used to having nice things and a comfortable house…'

'Those things aren't important…'

'I know but…'

'You're not listening to me, Kate. I will give you all of those things… and more…just not yet.'

'We're so young, Heath.'

'Do you doubt me Kate?'

'No, no I could never… I love you Heath. I would run away to the moon with you, but just give me these few days to try to smooth things over. We'll leave the moment I turn eighteen, either way. I promise.'

Heath looked down at his shoes as Kate stood up and shook the blanket. She reached over and kissed him softly then ruffled his hair like she used to when they were children. He took her wrist and kissed it as if he would never release her from his touch.

'I am yours, forever,' Kate whispered. 'Sometimes it scares me how much I love you. It is as if I have left my own self and you and I are complete, only when we are together.'

They merged under the fading clouds as the shadows of two lovers became one in the dark.

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**Escape – Present Day**_

'Breakfast!' Greta called to the inhabitant upstairs. Heath was hurriedly dressing and came bounding down the stairs looking like a much younger man with his riding boots in hand, ready to go out.

'Not going to the office this morning?' Greta asked as she handed Heath his coffee which he hurriedly gulped down.

'I'm going riding, if the stables are still standing.'

'Well, the storm stopped about a week ago, but it's been raining ever since so I'm not sure it's the best weather for riding. Mud everywhere.'

'It'll be fine,' Heath assured her. 'Oh, I see we have a visitor.'

'Yes…your, er… niece, Katarina. She seems to have become quite fond of her cousins.'

Heath looked at Greta blankly. 'Where are they?'

'They've left already. Katarina and Linus went out to find props and attend a dress rehearsal for the play. What are you getting yourself into Heath?'

'Nothing I can't get out of. She has a right to know her cousins. They have a right to know her.'

Greta raised an eyebrow. 'This isn't more…vengeance, is it Heath? Because, you know, you already fought that war.'

'Did I Greta? I'm not so sure.' Heath, in a rare show of affection (he was in a surprisingly good mood this morning), leant over and pecked Greta on the cheek.

'Don't worry so much Greta. It's time I had some more young people about me. The place seems a lot sunnier this morning.'

'Oh, you and your "young people", Greta smiled. 'You don't look a day over twenty-six. I wish you could give me the secret to your eternal youth.'

'You don't know the half,' It was a strange comment, Greta thought, since Heath had shared his secret with her long ago.

The wind had flattened the heather outside. A slight trick of sunlight shone across the park turning the other side of the field gold.

Greta shrugged. 'Trying to stop Heath getting involved in something he wanted had been almost pointless, from the time he was a little boy.' She wrote in her journal. _'I knew I could do nothing to persuade him against his plan…' _

_**Twenty Years Ago**_

Kate crept into Hareton Hall when it was way past dinner the night Heath had proposed to her. There was lightness in her step as she moved upstairs to pack her things. In the dark, she heard breathing. At first she thought it was just Frances, who had fallen asleep soundly on the couch but it was also her older brother, Harrison. He flicked the switch on above the couch and all of the chandeliers shone at once, creating a halo above Kate's head. Her brother stared at her menacingly from the corner of the drawing room.

Meanwhile, Heath was delayed. He'd taken the horses to the stables to wash them down. Kate dodged Harrison and wandered over to pat Hinton's head and carry him to his room. He was curled up asleep in a lounge chair with his puppy and she hesitated to wake him. Hinton was always content to play with his animals. Today it was a new pet, but as often he picked up a lost kitten outside in the garden and took it inside to feed. There were always small creatures that found their way into Hareton Hall and Hinton's menagerie.

Hinton stirred awake just as Franny, snuggled into Harrison's shoulder, opened her eyes. Kate realised her sister-in-law must still be delusional about Harrison's true nature.

Harrison had, these past few days, mostly ignored Heath and tried to curry favour with Kate. Greta wrote in her diary that she wondered what new scheme he was planning.

'Kate,' he said out of the blue. 'Welcome home. You've returned.' He nudged Frances. 'Franny wondered if you'd like to go on a shopping trip with her…to Paris.'

Kate tried to ignore Harrison's bribe.

'Dearest Kate, I want you and Frances to be friends. Paris is close to Switzerland where Franny and I will be skiing. The trip is on me.' Harrison had decided it would help to have Kate on side, less hassle when he needed her to sign legal documents.

'When?'

'Next week.'

Kate nodded, although she and Heath would be far away by then.

Since Oxford, Harrison had worked at the family firm and in the weeks since her father had died, Harrison had taken over not just her finances, but control of the entire estate. Until she was eighteen, he had all the power.

'I've been thinking, Kate… and your mother agrees, it's time for you to go back to school. Father would have wanted you to complete your education.'

'And Heath?' Kate added.

'Oh, well, that's up to him.'

Harrison basically ignored the question. 'That boarding school in Scotland was always useless. It's where I went after all and I doubt things have improved and…I'm concerned that you spend too much time doing nothing meaningful there. You can finish your studies in Switzerland, visit your mother and also learn something useful at the same time.' Harrison looked at the kitchen disdainfully, 'like how to cook for your future husband.'

Frances smiled as Harrison sniggered.

Kate knew without asking that he did not factor Heath into his statement and their plan would have to go into full swing. Kate was angry, however, and she couldn't resist a retort.

'You went to university. Why shouldn't I have that opportunity?'

'Dear Kate, you will be rich. What do you need university for? You'll only marry and have children like all the women before you. Oh, and let me give you some advice, no man wants a wife who… talks back.'

Kate couldn't believe Harrison's disturbing psychological argument. It was the 1990s after all. Harrison had always been poison; she should never have even bothered trying to reason with him.

'And to be honest, Kate, father's contacts helped me achieve, not my marks at school. We don't have him to help us anymore,' Harrison said, just to rub it in.

Meanwhile, Greta stirred the pot in the kitchen, going over her written instructions to the cook regarding the lunch for the meeting of twelve Board members that Harrison had called. Heath was still in the stables grooming the horses. Greta raised an eyebrow.

Harrison continued. 'As you know, you are not yet eighteen, so you are still legally under my care. The truth is Kate, unless you want to be out on the street, you have no choice but to comply with my wishes or…'

'Or?'

'If you run off with Heath, I'll call the police and have you both brought back and the "charity case" arrested.'

'On what grounds?'

'Oh, I'll make something up. I'm far more creative than you realize. I have friends in high places. I'm sure we can accuse him of something…freakish or financial. Dipping into charitable funds? Being a vampire? That could keep him detained for a while.'

'You have no proof.'

'My suspicions are enough to make an awful lot of trouble for you both. Besides, you are under age…'

'By three months…'

Harrison's wife, who had been curled up in the corner of the couch, stretched and went upstairs. Before she left she kissed her husband's cheek, oblivious to the shouting or his true nature. After all, she had a family fortune to protect as well and the merging of both family companies could only be profitable for both families. As Frances left, she smiled at Kate with an almost pitying look. In that moment, Kate realised she was all but alone. If she ran to the stables where Heath was washing the horses and they went away somewhere with what little funds they had, they would be running forever if Harrison had his way.

Well, they'd just have to take that risk.

'I don't want to go to Switzerland, Harrison.'

'It's all arranged Kate. The driver will take you to the airport in about ten minutes. Don't worry, Franny will meet you in Paris the first weekend. Mmm…I sense your hesitation. I feel Heath has brought you quite low in the world. You are to leave this afternoon. Go upstairs and pack your things. Oh, and don't fret. The Hunts have a chalet for the holidays. You are invited to stay for the season. You should be happy. Six months will go in six weeks. Then, when you've finished school, if you want to throw your life away on the charity case, who am I to stop you?'

'No. Father would have wanted us to stay together.'

'Father isn't here now. I'm the head of this household and you have nothing unless I give it to you. Learn to obey me Kate, at least until you can earn your own living.' Harrison looked around him and added as an afterthought, 'although the women in this household have never been very good at doing that.'

'Maybe that's because the men in the family refuse to educate them.'

'Excuse me?' Harrison said.

'And Heath?'

'Heath is eighteen at midnight Kate. What he does is no business of ours. I have sent a messenger to encourage him to leave the property at once. I shall send him packing with plenty of cash, Kate. No need to worry.'

'That's a lie! You've always been jealous of him!' Kate yelled at her older brother from the top of the stairs.

'Even so,' Harrison said coolly. 'We'll see who has the last laugh now.'

'Where is he?'

'I have a police officer outside in the stables waiting to explain his rights to him. I expect he will choose to leave sooner rather than…later. He should have turned eighteen by the time he…chooses to go.'

'Another lie…he'd never leave without telling me…'

'Well, after he's been told about your decision, he's sure to want to leave. It's almost midnight after all. What were you both doing out in the park so late? Never mind, don't answer that.' Harrison said smugly.

'Heath knows it would not be my decision…that I didn't have a choice.'

'Mmm…' Harrison said with a smile. 'Well, we didn't really explain it to him like that.'

'I will not leave without seeing him.'

'Heath took his bags and left a few minutes ago. He'd be half way down the road by now.' Kate moved to the front door but Harrison warned her with his words. 'If he wants you, I'm sure he'll write. I must tell you Kate, this teenage passion you have for him seems to me to be very one-sided.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I have it on good authority…'

'Whose?'

'Edmund Hunt's since you're so interested.'

'What has he been telling you?'

'Well, he happened to mention to the son of a colleague of mine, that Heath and his sister had been quite close…'

'Another lie.'

'Is it?'

'You know Heath can't stand her.'

'Really? Well in my experience where there's smoke, there's fire. Go and pack your bags and stop behaving like a moron. A few months in Switzerland will do you the world of good. You can leave in the morning. And I'm warning you, Kate, you don't actually have a choice.'

Kate turned to go up the stairs, holding back tears.

'Haven't you forgotten something?'

'What?'

'Say thank you.'

Kate ignored him. She ran up the staircase. When she reached her bedroom Kate looked through the windows. The stables were quiet, the horses almost silently eating hay. Heath was nowhere to be seen. He must have been dragged off the property. Kate moved through the connecting door to the playroom, the place in which she once gained many hours of solace. The door slammed shut and Harrison locked it behind her.

Screaming was useless. Instead, she leaned against the door, slumped to the carpet and cried.

After a few minutes, Kate sighed. Harrison had not barred the windows. She was wrong to try to reason with her brother. This was all her fault for not running away sooner.

The girl picked herself up, went to her secret hiding place under the floorboards and found the documents she needed. Quickly, she threw her passport and some belongings into a bag and crawled out of the window like she used to when she was a child. She scraped her arm sliding down the scaffolding outside the building, flung her things into the car (she'd hidden a spare set of keys in the stables), and sped down the road towards the intersection. She was sure Heath could not have gone too far; then she remembered how fast he could run. The car shuddered and ground to a halt. The petrol gauge came up empty. Harrison must have emptied most of the tank, suspecting she'd try to escape. She would have to go by foot across the heath.

**Chapter Seventeen**

_**Midnight**_

The boy was walking quickly. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder full of supplies and the fruits of his gambling stuffed into the back pocket of his black jeans. Kate caught up with him and flung her arms around him.

He kissed and hugged her in return.

'I was going to wait for you, here,' he said. Kate looked closely at his face. The skin around his right eye was turning black…

'The police officer did that?'

'He wasn't a policeman. Just a thug Harrison hired,' Heath said bitterly.

'I'm so sorry. We should have left sooner,' Kate said, kissing him. His lips were still warm. 'It was foolish of me to try to find the good in Harrison where there is so little.' Kate added regretfully.

They hid behind the shelter of the bus shed as the weather turned and rain spat from the dark sky. Soon it would be midnight and they'd have to hide until morning. They were together now and immune to the outside world.

'This is all that matters,' Kate said as she hugged Heath for warmth.

'C'mon,' the boy said, releasing her. 'There won't be any buses until morning. We must find warmer shelter. Harrison is probably in an alcoholic stupor by now so there's no need for us to freeze to death.'

They trudged across the ground in the dark.

It was almost midnight when Heath began to feel a stirring in his arms. Exhausted, they rested at the base of an oak tree. The muscles in Heath's legs tightened and he was woken by the strong and sweet scent of human blood. Kate was bundled up in her coat next to him. She had scratched her arm, climbing down the side of Hareton Hall and Heath had a strong desire to lick the scratch. He stretched, resisting the almost irresistible. He knew he had to get to his vampire specialist in London, today if possible. He felt sure Kate would understand. The muscles in his body thumped and tightened. The need to drink blood overwhelmed him.

He quickly grabbed a packet of Magenta from his backpack. It was the new product his specialist had urged him to take a sample of during his last visit. This liquid sated him, momentarily, and he fell asleep again next to Kate as the snow began to fall on the glass roof above them.

They'd had no choice but to wait out the storm in the glass house, the place where he and Kate had once loved to visit, loved to be together, just seated side by side, barely bold enough to touch. Heath remembered best those moments of wonder and they only added to his love for her. Meanwhile, his desire to plunge his fangs into her neck was becoming more intense by the minute.

'Heath?' the girl asked sleepily.

'Kate?'

He nudged her awake. The blue coat she hid under was long and heavy, made for stronger weather and travel.

Kate opened her red eyes. He could see she had cried herself to sleep. 'We can never go back,' she whispered. 'He threatened to tell everyone about you or worse… have you framed for some fake financial crime… and he'd be capable of doing it, you know. He can forge your signature on documents…'

Heath looked away.

'I doubt he'd go through with it. He doesn't want to publicly besmirch the family name. Wipe away your tears, Kate. We have each other.'

Kate put her arms around him, but for the first time, he pushed her back.

'Don't Kate,'

'Why not?'

'I can feel a change tonight. I need to go to Harley Street…'

'We'll go together,' Kate said.

They huddled on the bench as Heath started to sweat. The girl spread her coat over the boy.

'You should leave me Kate; I don't know what is going to happen next. I want you to be safe. Safe, from me.'

'You can't be serious. You can't seriously… I could never love anyone as I have loved you… all my life you are the only one for me.'

'And you for me.'

'What has happened? What did Harrison say to you?'

Heath looked away.

'He told me I'm a…freak. That he didn't want my blood tainting this family…'

'That's not true! I love you. If you are a freak then I'm one too and I don't care what the world says…'

'Kate, listen to me. On the street, being pursued, we are nothing. Give me time. I shall get my antidotes, supplies, a job, make some money and…come for you.'

'No. Don't.'

Heath got up.

'No. I will come to you. I'm writing down this address, in London. It's a little café where I once visited with father in Covent Garden when I was small, before he brought me home that night to meet you. I went there once a few months ago with Greta. I kept the business card. Here, I've written all the details. Meet me there, eight am in three months on the twenty-eighth. The day you turn eighteen, you will be free of him. We will meet there and be together, forever.'

'Promise me.'

'I promise to find you again, if we are ever parted. But we are not going to be parted.'

The lovers embraced.

Heath's hearing had sharpened. 'I sense they are near…'

'No, I cannot let you go,' Kate said. 'I cannot live without you.'

'Kate!' He whispered, his desire to fang her was stronger than ever. Heath whispered softly as his knees fell to the ground 'I love you.'

A shout could be heard in the distance, then a whistle and a voice, 'She's in there!' Headlights shone in through the glass.

'Careful officer, he's got a gun,' Harrison said. 'He took it from the stables. He tried to kill me and he's abducted my sister…'

Momentarily, Heath slumped from the light which imitated the sun. Heath had his arm around what looked like Kate's neck and the police officer must have misconstrued what he saw.

'Don't shoot!' Kate yelled.

It was too late.

The shot ran out in the cold night air and went right through Heath's chest, barely missing his heart.

He shuddered and writhed in pain. It was a shot no human being could survive.

Kate was stunned. Motionless, she barely made a sound.

The police officer stared in horror at the lifeless young male. He was speechless as he bent over Heath's ashen body. The policeman checked the packet in the boy's lifeless fingers. His fist contained nothing but a water bottle inside a brown paper bag. No weapon existed on his body.

Kate screamed hysterically and placed her head upon her loved one's chest as she sobbed.

'Heath, Heath!'

Moments passed.

Harrison took Kate's arm and dragged her to her feet. She fought him all the way to the car and finally broke free of him, turning and running back to Heath's body.

The police officer, chilled from the night air and the shock of what he'd done, began dialling emergency from his car radio.

Kate screamed again as Harrison took a swipe at her. He forcibly dragged her back to the car but she punched Harrison and kicked him twice as hard. She ran back to Heath and flung herself upon him. In that moment, he was cold and still as she sobbed in the shadows. There was not another human in sight of the distraught girl.

'And then,' Greta added casually, 'the bullet holes started to heal. The flesh grew upon itself until not a mark could be seen through the holes in his shirt. Heath's chest began to rise and fall, his fingers moved, his warm, brown eyes opened.' Greta looked at me as she finished her tea. 'The last words from Heath before he got up and fled were, 'I will pay Harrison back for what he's done.'

Greta sighed. 'And sure enough, he did.'

**Chapter Eighteen **

_**London**_

Kate whispered in his ear, before he'd disappeared into the night, 'I'll pretend to go along with his plan - three months from now. The twenty-eighth like we planned.'

He kissed her forehead and fled.

Heath's disappearance was a mystery. Where a body had lain in the dark only mist seeped through the glass house as the solitary, crying girl was dragged forcibly back to Hareton Hall and then packed off to Switzerland.

The streets of Soho had been very cold at one am - summer, winter or any other season. It had been two days since he had been shot during his transition (and revived). When he fled Hampstead, after Kate was dragged from him, after she'd whispered the time and date of their wedding, he was speechless. Intent on survival, he disappeared into the Hampstead mist. Heath gorged himself on squirrels and hoped it would tide him over until he could get in to see his specialist, Dr Vincent.

Driving back to The Hall, Harrison was sure he'd seen the last of Heath. Although he suspected a vampire variation, he was sure he'd imagined, in his near drunken stupor, the events that had occurred in the early hours of that morning. It was, of course, Heath's eighteenth birthday. As midnight bells rang out, Heath was becoming immortal, shy of sunlight, wary of mirrors and gradually non-existent in photographs. Fearful of dawn and what he might do, the rest would evolve instinctively, over time. He would forge his own path.

After Kate was sent kicking and screaming to Switzerland, Heath's fees were withdrawn as Harrison had promised and the school was notified that Heath would not be returning.

Meanwhile, Heath's friends from Scotland were in school and he had no local acquaintances in Hampstead or the surrounding boroughs and even if he did, he wanted to get as far away from what he remembered of his childhood, as he could. He had the small amount of money he'd saved from running his school fixtures racket (and winning), as well as the cash Kate had placed in her letter.

'I do remember that,' Greta laughed and then let the story continue as if telling itself…

Heath had a small amount of cash plus the money Harrison had given him "what remained of his father's wish", as a "do not return gift" - one hundred pounds – an insult. It was a great deal less than he'd actually been owed; and none of the legacy left to him by his adopted father.

Heath used the money for supplies. He then spent the second night after riding the tube and sleeping rough in St James Park, in a backpacker's hostel near the West End. He now had real empathy for the homeless and resolved that when he became rich and powerful he would help those less fortunate.

As Heath was transitioning, his body was changing inside, but he never gave up hope that he would land on his feet. He was almost glad to be free of Harrison and The Hall but it was Kate's promise of love that kept him going through those cold, desperate nights.

On the third morning he emptied his pockets and realised just how short of cash he would be, once he'd put down a payment on a room for the week. He went to stay with the older brother of one of his school team mates but it soon became clear after a few nights that he couldn't hide his needs from that family and he'd outstayed his welcome. He slept in the park again but it was freezing. The humanity left in him ensured he still felt very cold.

By now, he'd managed to see his specialist, who'd commiserated with him and congratulated him on his eighteenth birthday. The tests showed a major change in his chemical make-up and it would take a few days for his medication to settle his imbalance. Heath still saw his own reflection in the mirror, still ate food and continued to try to live as normal a life as possible. He slept in more than he used to, the craving for human blood was stronger. The promise of Kate was enough, and all he survived for.

Heath was sufficiently recovered from the first step in his transformation. He'd experienced all of the symptoms: major light sensitivity, pain raging through his veins so badly that he curled up under a tree in St James Park and whimpered in daylight, cravings, chills and sweats. He found a tiny bedsit room in Soho. It wasn't long before he discovered, along with the bad side-effects of transition, that he'd developed the power to move quicker and think faster. He could literally see a massive series of complex numbers and add them up to get the correct result. His mathematics skills had always been excellent but now they were computer-like in their accuracy.

Heath resolved to find a job, perhaps two. He could always work in a restaurant, and then look for something else that would utilize his other skills.

He'd always been good at mathematics at school but now his mind worked like a computer. He thought working in a bank might be a good direction to take. He would apply for an entry level job that required no formal qualifications. First, he needed some fast cash since he'd nearly used up all he had. London was a huge place and although young and now partially a vampire, he did not allow this to deter him. Heath went to a hotel and merged so quickly through the lobby that they didn't notice his trip to the men's room. He used the shower and towels and cleaned himself up. He went outside and walked towards Piccadilly via Regent Street and into Soho, leaving his name at various cafes and pubs along the way.

Although he had no experience, someone was sure to need a kitchen hand. As long as the fumes from the cooking didn't get the best of him, he thought he might actually enjoy working with food. He realised, at least for the moment, night work would be best.

The first time he'd walked out in broad daylight (and London was mostly overcast, even in summer), his skin crackled, far worse than it had when he was a child. Then, he realised he'd forgotten to wear his medallion. He placed it around his neck after that, never taking it off, realising it contained the power to help him live a relatively normal life.

After he'd secured a job in a café, he applied for a job as office cleaner in one of the huge banks in the City. It wasn't much but both jobs gave Heath hope.

Meanwhile, he studied the stock market, hoping to one day make enough money to put a deposit on a flat. In those weeks, applying to finish school by correspondence, (something Heath once planned to do), went by the wayside.

It was during this transition phase in his life that he turned a corner one day and walked straight into Annabelle Hunt, rugged up in a cherry red overcoat exiting the building where her Soho art class was held. Displaying a previously unrecognised knack for rebellion, Annabelle had insisted on attending day school in London so she could go to Art classes at college in the evening. Her family had relented because Annabelle had so rarely been passionate about anything (apart from Heath) in her young life. As the girl had turned eighteen she had some say in the matter.

'Anyway,' Annabelle said, 'school was so lame once you and Kate were gone. There was no one interesting to talk to at all, except my brother, and he's hardly exciting.' Annabelle added in a rare display of personality as they sat together in the student coffee shop where Annabelle had insisted on dragging Heath.

Heath nodded. 'Ah, something we both agree on,' he added sarcastically.

Annabelle smiled self-consciously.

Heath had been resistant to sit with her at first, but strangely, seeing Annabelle reminded him of Kate, and talking to her was like old times.

'You look so different,' Annabelle said, peering into his eyes. Heath looked away.

'I have her address, you know,' Annabelle added as she stuffed her contact details into Heath's palm and kissed him on both cheeks in her European way. Heath agreed to stay in touch and that is how Annabelle became Heath's unlikely ally.

In his spare moments, Heath studied the stock markets. He learned a lot from the discarded ledgers thrown in the waste paper baskets he emptied at the firm where he worked on week nights.

After working in a pub during the day, he managed to put a deposit on a tiny bedsit. The plan was to save enough money to finish school at a Sixth Form College the following term then fill out his university entrance forms for the next year.

Annabelle had contact with Kate through mutual school friends and reconnected with Heath to let him know she would be delivering the cards and letters Kate posted to him, care of her. These postcards would have gone "missing" if they'd been posted from Switzerland because Kate was not allowed to send mail to anyone that Harrison, her guardian, hadn't agreed to. The "society" Hunts, were on his list.

Surprisingly, Annabelle had agreed to act as a go-between for the lovers. Heath hoped Kate would go to university with him. Although he knew she had her heart set on Art School in Florence, London was 'a better option' she had written, 'considering their finances.' Heath smiled when he read her note, as Annabelle looked on pensively. She quite liked playing the go-between. It suited her surprisingly humble nature, Heath thought, underestimating her, not for the first time. He knew Kate would be making the best of a presumably bad situation in Switzerland and he worked away the days before he'd get the chance to see her again. They re-confirmed the date of their rendezvous in their letters.

Sleeping rough in St James, hunting squirrels for food - those days were a distant memory - yet hard living had almost suited him.

He was young, verging on immortal. He could easily stay out all night and work all day but he rarely spoke to other people nor was he interested in other girls. He'd taken Kate's red scarf; she'd left it in the stables in a rush, and now Heath kept it in his pocket. The wool was warm and smelt of her perfume.

His own bedsit, although grungy, was like a palace to Heath after the turmoil of Hareton Hall. In preparation for Kate's visit, Annabelle had insisted on buying lengths of material and decorating the windows. Occasionally, she wondered what it would have been like had Heath returned her infatuation at school but her new boyfriend, Toby, was good for her. He was also studying Art History. She knew she was in a better place with a man who could reciprocate her feelings. It was enough, she thought, just to be near Heath but Annabelle did not underestimate how important his new friendship was to her.

Heath was excited as the day drew nearer. He walked past the place Kate had arranged to meet him many times that week. On the second occasion he was sure he'd seen her, but then the girl turned around and her eyes were nothing like those of the woman he loved. Kate had promised him. Kate would be there. Promises were everything. A promise was all they had. The walls of his room were pasted with the old-fashioned post cards Kate had sent him every day for a week.

Through all of this, Annabelle had been the conduit. A secretive message relayed from a secret meeting in St James Park. She had even tried to stuff money in Heath's pocket while he waited for his first pay cheque. It was enough to give Heath and Kate hope since neither of them had telephones and the internet was barely in use.

The sun shone in London as Heath waited for Kate and their reunion drew near. He'd been holding down two jobs and with a roof over his head, was filled with hope for the future.

**Chapter Nineteen**

_**Promises**_

Meanwhile, Kate was unreasonably cold in the Alps.

Her roommates were chattering away by the fire, three to a room. They'd only known each other for a few months but already they were friendly, Kate thought, especially after she'd shown them the picture of her and Heath. On cold afternoons after deportment class and flower arranging and French cooking and "How to Entertain Diplomats" or "How to Behave When Greeting the Royal Family" tutorials were over, the girls socialized.

They turned their iron upside down, pulled out the small milk pan they hoarded for this very occasion, and made hot chocolates by pouring milk into the pan and sitting the pan on the underside of the iron to heat the milk. Their drinks were laced with the cream and marsh mellows they bought in the tiny convenience store in town. The girls sipped hot chocolate as they talked. The topic of discussion was usually Kate, Heath and their "everlasting love".

One of Kate's roommates, Tracey, was from California. She spoke in an accent Kate loved and made LA seem like a place Kate would definitely like to go one day. Daisy, the shorter one with dark hair, was from London.

'Oh, he's really cute,' Daisy said.

'Yes, he's hot. I would…definitely,' Trace replied with a wicked smile.

Kate smiled. 'Well, neither of you can have him, he's all mine,' Kate said, snatching the photograph, knowing she'd probably never have the pleasure of another image now that Heath was in the process of transition.

'Are you sure?' Tracey asked mischievously. 'All alone in London after your brother treated him so…scandalously?'

'Yes, it really was terrible to throw the _foster _child…out like that,' Daisy added. 'My mother would never treat a foundling that way. It just looks really bad to the outside world…'

Kate had told them the whole story (well, the parts she could repeat – nothing about Heath's transition) but they somehow always got the details wrong.

'Heath is so hot,' Daisy said, glancing at the photograph of Kate and Heath taken just days before they ran away from Hareton Hall. Kate looked at the picture nostalgically.

'Gosh your house sounds so romantic, tucked away opposite a frozen park…' Daisy added.

Kate unfolded the letter she had received from Heath by way of Annabelle and re-read it as she stirred the milk pan, making sure a plastic skin didn't form.

'Only one more week,' she thought '…before I'm free of this place forever.'

The girls had been sworn to secrecy and Kate had worked out the route she would take from the school, down to the convenience store across the sleet road to the bus stop, down the mountain road to the train station, through the tunnel in the mountain…across the channel then on to London.

The café was in Dean Street. From the corner table you could see the cobbled pathway that led towards Covent Garden. Art students and opera singers busked there in the hub of shops and cafes and people.

It had been a long three months and in that time Heath and Kate had communicated using letters and postcards.

In the pre-internet nineties, Kate and Heath needed Annabelle as their intermediary.

The cards and letters Kate wrote Heath during their enforced separation lined the wall of the tiny room he'd taken. They began to arrive less than a week after Heath and Kate separated. Kate found a local bakery near the school where she walked to in her lunch hours and religiously posted a card to Heath using Annabelle's address. Sometimes at night after Heath had eaten food brought home with him from the pub (always some kind of red meat or chicken), he fell asleep reading the names of the cards on the wall.

The words: _holiday, skiing_ and _Switzerland_ became a kind of pattern in his mind; a pathway out of the daily grind he told himself was only temporary. He recognised a stronger desire for blood (and always the desire for revenge on Harrison) the closer he got to midnight.

His love for Kate tempered him. He was sure it made him a better person to know he had to be the best he could, for her. He resisted the evils lurking in St James. Daily, he was tempted by the homeless people on the street, the women in expensive coats, business men in even more expensive suits. Their veins pulsed at him like light if he was even a few minutes late taking his medication. He'd explained all of this to Kate in a letter; the one in ten thousand chance he'd had of being born a hybrid, then turning into a vampire; how his biological father must have carried the gene but not necessarily suffered from its affliction.

The night he was due to see Kate, Annabelle and some of her Art School friends took Heath out to celebrate the fact that he had applied and been accepted into a training program at the firm where he cleaned. His brilliance with numbers and ability to stay up all night studying ensured him the highest marks in the exam. They went to a restaurant in the centre of town where Annabelle, who had pretty much given up on Heath as anything but a friend, had arranged a surprise for Heath. Kate's arrival was not supposed to be until the next day, Saturday, but she'd managed to "escape" early, as she put it.

Kate waited for Heath expectantly. She wore a scarlet coat and a matching scarf and her hair was swept up in a winter woollen cap, making her appear sophisticated beyond her years. Annabelle arrived with a group of friends from Art School and headed to the reserved table.

'Kate! It's so wonderful to see you. I cannot believe you are back in London for good! Don't worry; everyone thinks you are staying with me. They won't notice you've gone missing until Tuesday - plenty of time for you and Heath…'

'I can't thank you enough, Annabelle.' Kate said.

'Well,' Annabelle replied, 'I hope we can be friends now, as we were always meant to be.' Annabelle glanced over at the handsome Art School student she was dating and Kate realised Annabelle was finally over Heath. Maybe it was true they could at last be friendly. Without her cover, she would never have been able to escape the day before her birthday.

'Thank you so much for being such a true friend to me Annabelle.'

'Not at all, it's about time Harrison got some of his own medicine. I've always liked Heath… as you know, but let's face it, he only ever had eyes for you,' Anne added.

When Heath arrived, expecting to see Annabelle and her other friends (who were now his friends) he was completely floored.

'Kate! You changed your mind and arrived early!' he said as she shyly kissed him on both cheeks.

'I wish. Tomorrow,' she whispered in his ear, 'I'm yours forever.'

Kate flung her arms around him and together they sat with the group while they all decided where to go for dinner. Something cheap but cheerful in Soho was the general consensus. Heath chatted excitedly about his new job opportunity and Kate told him about her plans to enrol in Art College with Annabelle.

Kate leaned in toward Heath and took his hand under the table. 'I don't care what happens now as long as I'm with you,' she said. 'Finishing School was a nightmare.'

Heath smiled back with his eyes and whispered to her, 'I love you.' He had invested his stock market winnings and had managed to double the money in a month. It was enough for them to have their deposit on a flat.

'The room in Covent Garden, it's tiny, it's not much, but soon I'll be making so much money. In a few years you'll be able to choose the finest house in London - or, who knows, we could move to America. I've always wanted to go there.'

They talked this way all night, making plans for their future. They couldn't tell anyone about their plans for the next morning, not even Annabelle. It was too risky to involve others. They intended to stay up all night until their wedding day which would be the following morning.

'New York is supposed to be brilliant,' Kate said as she ate the salad off her plate and passed Heath the chicken.  
'It is for artists,' Toby said. Kate was keen to meet Toby, Annabelle's boyfriend. Belle had been secretly seeing him for months. It was the reason for her move to London. Annabelle's father didn't approve of her dating an artist. In defiance Annabelle had run away from home. Her father had not dared to cut her off financially though, as Heath and Kate had been. Annabelle was in love (for the second time, Kate thought with a smile). Belle's new passion finally took the heat off Heath, although he'd obviously grown to like Annabelle. They'd made better friends than he'd anticipated. Unexpectedly, Annabelle dragged Toby up off his seat and they began to dance to some random eighties song together.

Kate leant in, 'Wow Art School has certainly changed Annabelle …"

Heath replied, 'For the better, I'd say. By the way, how long before they notice you're missing and phone the authorities?'

Kate said, 'You mean Harrison …'

'Yes.'

'Well, they think I'm staying with Annabelle until Tuesday. By tomorrow, I'll be eighteen and they won't have any say in the matter.'

Kate leant in and Heath kissed her, the strobe lighting played tricks with their shadows as he whispered, 'I'm under control. I just thought you should know. I've been to the specialist and he says I may not devolve any further as long as I stay on my…'

Kate put her finger to his lips, 'We love each other. That is all that matters.'

At midnight, Heath replayed those words many times in his head. He could see Kate's expectant face as Annabelle and Toby wandered off to another club. Heath and Kate hailed a taxi.

'I want you so much,' Kate whispered to Heath in the back of the London cab.

'Me too, but we should wait until morning.'

'What do you mean?' Kate smiled.

'By morning, the transition for me will be almost complete. My specialist told me the first phase takes three months, unless there is a relapse. I've been taking my medication now for almost three months and I'm… stable. I won't be tempted to…drain you…' Heath then looked away as he said this and pulled out of his jacket the ring he'd been carrying in his pocket since his first pay cheque. He'd lived on nothing and saved every cent to buy Kate the style of ring that he thought she deserved. The diamond was larger and more expensive than a young man in his position would have been able to afford, but it was a token of his trust in their future and his faith in Kate's complete love. The diamond shone.

'Oh, Heath, it's beautiful.'

Kate slipped it on her finger.

'Happy birthday Kate.'

'It fits perfectly,' Kate said as she slid her arms around Heath's broad shoulders and kissed him passionately.

'Oh, we need to do this properly,' Kate whispered, coming up for breath.

'Driver, pull over please,' Heath said.

The cab pulled up on the curb near the well-heeled part of Kensington where the shops were freshly painted.

Heath asked the driver to wait, while he opened the door and helped Kate out.

In the street lights, Kate walked with Heath towards a clothing shop.

'Wait outside,' she warned, 'I had access to some money for the ski trip I'm meant to go on. I ordered something from this store in Switzerland. The store had it packed up and sent to the London shop. You're not allowed to see it yet.'

Kate returned with a large bag. Inside was her wedding dress. It had been packaged up for her collection, all arranged weeks ago.

Before she could add anything in words, Heath kissed her.

'Kate, you have made me the happiest person in London.'

'And you have made me the happiest woman in the world, in the universe,' Kate said. It was first light as they drove towards the tiny church in Chelsea; Kate recalled scrawling the words _Katherine & Heath own the universe…_all over her school texts when she was younger. Soon those words would be a reality. Kate knew they belonged together - her dream was coming true.

It was freezing; flakes of snow began to fall from the sky as they walked up the steps. Kate emerged from a side room dressed in her cream lace vintage gown. Heath was talking with the vicar. They'd bought flowers from a street seller on the way and Kate held a large bouquet of tulips.

Together they said their traditional vows and both embraced on their promise. Kate shivered as they kissed.

They exchanged words of thanks with the vicar who remarked on their youth. After the promise of their love, they signed the registry.

Outside as they hailed a cab, Kate and Heath kissed again with an intensity that made people on the footpath stare.

Heath smiled, filled with love for his beautiful new wife. He had wanted her from the first moment they had kissed, yet they had waited to be free. They reached for each other in the back seat of the London cab as they headed towards Soho. Heath had spent his whole pay cheque on a suite at the best hotel in Covent Garden. The exquisite room with the Queen sized double bed and fresh sheets was strewn with the petals of Kate's favourite flowers as Heath carried his young wife over the threshold. For the first time in months, as they kissed passionately and undid the buttons on lace and silk, their lives seemed rich with possibility.

The afternoon had been perfect. The transitions occurred in the shadows, in the early hours, as Kate lay sleeping. She woke and hugged Heath to her, nursing him through his night terrors, checking they had all the necessary supplies of Type A, plasma, elixir, medication. The final part of the six-month process was the worst, they'd been told. Kate soothed Heath as he fell back into a trancelike sleep.

In the early morning, a knock at the door woke Heath. Kate had risen earlier and was using the hair dryer. A messenger delivered a note addressed to Heath who read it quickly.

'I'm just going outside for a moment,' he said through the gap in the bathroom door.

'Uh, okay,' she called out to him. Silence was the response.

Kate wrapped her dressing gown around her and padded into the room with wet feet. She searched the hallway of the hotel; nothing. It worried her that the messenger and Heath had disappeared into dawn.

Heath had hastily scribbled a note for her and left it on the bed.

**Forget me until I find you. Wait for me, I'll return. I'm sorry H.**

Kate was shocked. It couldn't be Heath's writing, but it was. Kate dropped the note on the floor, pulled on her clothes hastily and ran out onto the street, bare foot, to look for him. After an hour on the street, searching through the crowds, it was hopeless. Her feet, bloodied and bruised, were the least of her troubles. Heath had disappeared into thin air. All Kate had left was the memory of the first night they'd spent together, blissfully entwined in each other's arms.

**Chapter Twenty**

**London**

_**Three Years Later **_

Heath was walking home from work after he'd been photographed for the cover of New Business Magazine. The journalist was writing about Financial Whizz Kids – the title chosen for the article. Heath tried to remain himself but the art director had insisted on having his hair messed, his tie skewed and his jacket open, giving him the appearance of a rock star and making him more famous amongst his colleagues in a week than he had been in a year. Women he'd never met messaged him. Heath told them he was married and most of them stopped. He was too young to be married but then he explained he'd met his wife when they were teenagers and they just raised their eyebrows.

Soho on Friday night was lit up with music and lights, like a buzzing carnival act. The West End was busy every night of the week. Heath had been working in the City making more money in his first year as a stock trader than he'd dreamt possible. Through extreme luck and, some might say, mathematical genius, financial fortune came his way. He was a mystery to his co-workers, but Heath knew the truth; that he never slept, that he was able to do in one day what took others a week; he could stay awake and trade in every time zone.

After trawling the usual after-work bars with work colleagues (referred to euphemistically as "friends"), Heath often ended up near his home in Chelsea at a small cafe, drinking elixir from a flask and checking the Asian markets as he waited for his supper of rare roasted lamb, occasionally fish, sometimes chicken – always protein. He usually arrived at his house in the early hours of the morning and was up again and seated at his desk by six in the morning.

He was aware that more than a decade of living this lifestyle would take its toll on his family, yet he existed in the moment. Money markets and stockbroking firms were where traders like him could make a huge profit and get out by the time they hit thirty, which gave him about nine years until burn out. And then some, because he'd been warned now, he wouldn't appear to age more than twenty-six years. He had made a full transition, immortality beckoned. He loved the feeling money and this new vampirical power gave him. It had taken him less than a year to turn his life around and he couldn't help but congratulate himself on his good fortune. He never had any doubt that he was as good as anyone else, as capable as any person.

Heath stayed out late to avoid going home. It was true their house was envied in a street full of beautiful homes and families, but it was all surface. To the outside world, they seemed so perfect. Still, he knew he'd made this "fast money" by doing things he never dreamt he'd do – marrying into wealth, identifying the weaknesses of other men and preying on them. As he made money, others lost it.

When the waiter brought the tall, striking young man in the dark suit another coffee as he'd requested, Heath remembered the request from his wife. She had asked him to bring groceries home - milk, bread, mundane things, nothing special. The message had been given to him in his office six hours ago. She's added love and kisses as she always did, revealing her true self with each forgotten word. It had all become a bit old to Heath. He flinched when he recalled the embarrassing note.

Familiar music played in the café; a beautiful song, sung by a band Kate had liked, all about the perfection of a day. For evening, it couldn't have been a more inappropriate song. Nevertheless, the music played as Heath drank his coffee and went over the business transactions on his laptop as the wait staff began to clear up and wonder when the last customer would leave.

The words of the song played over and over in his mind.

Heath sighed, wondering why Kate always came back to him when he was alone. He wished she could be erased from his memory, forever. Any good psychologist would tell him he was better off without her. Heath finished his drink, and then went to the street to hail a cab. Of course, he wasn't far from the bedsit they'd shared briefly after they'd married. The West End was filled with his memory of her.

Meanwhile, Kate was at home at The Grange wondering how it had all gone so wrong. She sat in the window seat in the moonlight, doing some sketches under a lamp for the theatre design she was drafting. The drawings were a welcome distraction from her personal life and she'd grown to enjoy the drawing and planning along with the productions she worked on at the theatre with Annabelle; at twenty-one, she felt old.

_**Two years previously**_

Kate gave birth to a girl, Katarina.

The baby's birth was premature, yet she survived. Kate and the baby's nanny were waving toys above Katarina's crib in the nursery at The Grange, six months later. It was a lighter, airier room than the one at Hareton Hall, decorated with pink curtains at Annabelle's insistence. There was a familiarity at The Grange which led to a certain type of contentment as Kate soothed her baby. Just as she was about to sing Katarina her favourite lullaby, Annabelle ran breathlessly into the room.

'Kate, I have to tell you something,' Belle whispered. 'The detective contacted me this morning; he's discovered money being deposited into Heath's bank account; they traced it to New York. Heath's been living over there.'

Kate was silent.

'Don't you see what that means, Kate?' she whispered. 'He's alive! We thought the worst when his bank account hadn't been touched.'

'Yes,' Kate said. 'I felt he was alive. What am I supposed to say? He abandoned me.' She turned and walked purposefully up the stairs. The wild haired girl she had once been was prematurely replaced by a grown up wife. Kate looked at herself in the mirror as she dressed in her old jeans, red sweater and expensive winter coat. All she saw in the reflection was a miserable young woman, a terrible mistake. What choice did she have? Kate had wanted a father for her child.

Months of wondering and searching for Heath who was untraceable had been hard on her. The man she loved had proved himself worse than unreliable. She knew she should be forgiving as Annabelle would no doubt be, yet she found it difficult to smile. If Heath did return, he was sure to be angry.

'He'll come to visit you, I know he will,' Annabelle said as she walked into Kate's room.

Kate just looked at her, barely smiling. They walked downstairs.

'Well it won't do much good now, will it? I'm going to see what Greta has made for lunch.' Kate glanced briefly at the parcel Annabelle had left for her on the dining room table.

'These are the photographs I took,' Annabelle added.

Annabelle had taken photography as one of her core subjects at Art College. She had a job as a gallery assistant in a Soho studio. Her photographs were artistically lit but practically framed, perfect for advertising a production such as the one Kate was now co-designing in the West End.

Kate's passion for painting had not subsided. She'd also completed a theatre design course and her sketches were much in demand. Motherhood, and the beginnings of her artistic career, had gone part way to rectifying the monotony of her days. Katarina and painting made her focus on the future.

That week, Harrison, his wife Frances and her young brother Hinton, had gone to Ireland to visit the premises of a new company. Edmund Hunt, Kate's husband, was spending the day at his office in the City. Kate had agreed to house sit at Hareton Hall that night with the baby and her nanny, but only to satisfy her sister-in-law's wishes.

Kate was working on one of her final designs for the play due to open the following month, and feeding Katarina, when she rushed up to the kitchen and hung her head over the sink. Though her stomach was flat, she felt unsettled and nauseated, again. The thought of bringing a new life into her world was quite shocking although she knew Edmund would be happy about it. Kate put the symptoms of pregnancy out of her mind. After Katarina and her nanny were settled upstairs, Kate decided to explore.

It was strange to pad around Hareton Hall in bare feet and her dressing gown for the first time in years. The memories were provoking a strong reaction in her.

The mansion was quiet but it still felt more like home than The Grange. She felt the absence of Heath and her father, everywhere she wandered. The usual staff had Sunday afternoon off, including Greta. Kate had turned all the chandelier lights on (the electricity bill was sure to annoy Harrison) and turned the downstairs music up. She wasn't that far away from being a teenager even though she was now a mother; she felt like softly dancing the roof off, if only to forget how much of a mess she'd made of everything.

When she finished moving to the music, she decided to explore the upper floors. She peeked into the playroom where Katarina was soundly asleep. The nanny, whom Edmund had insisted on employing (she had raised both him and Annabelle), was knitting a cardigan in the comfortable arm chair and placed her fingers to her lips. Kate quietly shut the door. Although the nanny was brilliant, Kate sometimes thought the woman considered her too young to be an adequate mother.

Wandering alone through the top floors, she was surprised to find her former bedroom was similar to the way she had left it. Her school mementos had been placed in boxes high in the cupboard and labelled in Franny's neat, clear, handwriting. Photographs from every year of her childhood and adolescence, as well as old videos, were stacked side by side.

It was kind of Frances not to have thrown them out, Kate thought. Previously, she'd had little to do with her sister-in-law though they now lived ten minutes apart. There was even a box of old school uniforms. Kate took out her blue blazer with red piping around the edges, the one she'd worn to boarding school in Scotland. Then she pulled a large, woven basket towards her. She intended to have a huge throw out, to leave the past behind her once and for all.

Cleaning up was busy work and mid-morning; half way through throwing out her old clothes, Kate became bored. She checked on Katarina, kissed her precious face, fed her, and then considered her clothing options. Kate dragged her old riding clothes from her wardrobe and pulled on high, polished black boots that matched her long, curly dark hair. Kate twisted her curls into a loose bun and grabbed her coat. It was true that Harrison had maintained the house but it was sure to be chaotic again soon with the imminent return of the rambunctious yet adorable Hinton.

On occasion she had found Hinton, a few years older than Katarina, standing by her cot and attempting to hold hands with the baby or teach her words she didn't know. He was a very protective, sweet natured child, although Kate constantly worried for his future in the care of Harrison. Yet Hinton's good nature seemed to bring out the best in everyone around him, including her brother.

Thirsty, she stomped to the kitchen, aware of her noisy feet on the polished floors. The music had stopped and the place was almost eerie. Kate missed her father, but not enough to live in the house that held the memory of him, Heath and of their shared childhood. Kate poured herself a large glass of water and drank it quickly. Almost as quickly, she grabbed her scarf and went outside to the stables, pulling the door shut behind her. The wind, which was rising across the Heath in the distance, along the walking tracks and riding trails, was harsh. Her lips were red and her cheeks flushed with cold and exercise.

Kate patted, brushed and saddled her horse but she decided to walk alongside Hero through the park trail. It was not a great day for riding in her possible condition. Although it started out sunny, it became cool, windy and overcast. Kate knew exactly where to find shelter when the storm that had earlier threatened to interrupt her afternoon, finally arrived, after she'd been walking Hero for half an hour. Kate removed her wedding ring, the one that rubbed on her finger with the reigns and placed it in her pocket. She wore her first one around her neck, close to her heart.

**Chapter Twenty-one**

_**Revenge**_

Hampstead Heath had a thin film of lavender mist hanging over it during winter as she headed for the Glass House. There were very few people in the meadow at this hour of the day. Kate was invigorated from the cool air in a way she wouldn't have been had she stayed inside. Her usual routine - a light lunch, nurse Katarina, read or do some yoga - before wading through the play script that lay in wait for her had been replaced by her ramble. She had more ideas about the design of the play she was working on and had brought paper with her to sketch the arboretum. The garden was the central motif in the play and she wanted to take another look at the architecture.

Kate tied her horse up and got him some water. As she did this, a familiar horse rode towards her, or maybe she just thought his markings were familiar. As she looked closer through the clearing, it was the rider she recognised. He was slightly older, leaner, yet unmistakably the man who had filled her every waking dream and now her nightmares.

Heath alighted from his horse in the easy manner of a country squire.

Kate looked over at him. Even from a distance, she could hardly believe he was real.

He walked towards her, slowly, with purpose.

Before they spoke she reached over when he paused to touch his face as if to ask the vision before her if he even existed.

'Heath?' She whispered.

'Yes,' he replied. 'It's me.'

'But…you've been gone…for three years. I tried to find you. What happened? How did you come to be here?'

'Perhaps I should be the one asking questions. I saw your marriage notice in the paper not long after we parted.'

Kate was silent for a moment.

'You left me,' she said.

Heath's face displayed a knowing, hardened expression with more than a twinge of anger.

'I am staying at the pub. I have business with Harrison in relation to Hareton Hall. I went around looking for him but there was no one at home. I saw your car in the driveway and I didn't think you'd be far. The horses were there - all except Hero. One of them was practically biting his way out of the stable, so I thought I'd take him out. He seems to remember me.'

Heath patted the animal and went to tie the reigns.

'Business… with Harrison?'

'Yes. Greta told me you'd be here. You might be interested to know that I am soon to be the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

'How?'

'Harrison mortgaged it to my company; he lost his money gambling. The house was going cheap and I put a down payment on it. I officially own it as of…about three minutes ago. '

Heath smiled. Kate knew she didn't have the full details of the matter but suddenly realized how good he must feel.

She visibly shivered as Heath took her gloved hand in his.

'I am to be your new neighbour Mrs Hunt.'

Kate sighed, never having doubted, in the faint possibility if he ever revealed himself to her again, Heath would one day be the stronger of them.

'And what of Harrison?'

'Oh, he can remain in the guest cottage until he's found another place to stay. It's all arranged.'

Together they walked in breathless silence towards the glass house where they had met as children. There were overgrown hothouse flowers and benches and comfortable chairs for lovers. The chairs had been unused all winter until Kate and Heath rested upon them, side by side. Again they sat in silence for what seemed the longest stretch of time. Actually it was only a few minutes.

Both former lovers were angry. Kate was almost speechless.

'Did you read the note I left?'

'Yes, you said you'd find me,' Kate replied softly. 'It wasn't enough. All those legal terms…none of them true.'

'I needed proof. Harrison told me we shared the same biological father…' He showed Kate the note.

_Forget your unnatural desires, _it read_. Apart from the fact that you are a monster there are few grounds for an annulment and marrying a close relative is one of them. I tried to keep you both apart for a reason. Kate is your half-sister. Mother left because she knew! That's what they were fighting about that night, more than ten years ago. I heard them! You are father's biological child. He said so himself…Do Kate a favour and leave her. I'll arrange an annulment at this end. We'll tell her you changed your mind. I'm sure she'll understand once she knows the truth. I tried to warn you. Thank me later, Harrison._

Kate shook her head after she read it.

'I am not surprise. Harrison told me of the supposed connection. I suspected he was lying.'

Heath was silent. Kate tore the letter up.

'Later, after I married Edmund he admitted it was another of his lies, designed to tear us apart - only this one worked,' Kate said regretfully.

Heath noticed Kate's scarlet riding jacket. It contrasted with her black riding boots and reminded him of blood. The colours suited her well. Blood reminded him of betrayal.

He would never admit that he envied her marriage and longed for revenge upon her family that went further than just the ownership of Hareton Hall. In any case, Kate must have expected the foreclosure on her childhood home since there had been talk all over town for months that Harrison was going broke and had dragged the family name into disrepute. Then he remembered that it was likely Kate barely knew anything. She rarely spoke to her brother.

'What have we done Heath?' she said after a long silence.

He could see her breath, cold in the air and longed more than ever to do what he'd always resisted doing; to do what he'd done in the endless nights of travel, parks and animal blood. Then, after he had money, there had been the empty living of hotel suites, women and elixir to help drown his misery. It had taken him months to trace his mother, to find out the truth. The specialist had told him he could be fairly sure Harrison's allegation was untrue but for total confirmation he'd have to locate his biological mother and trace some evidence of his biological father. It had all taken so much longer than he'd expected, several weeks. He'd been in virtual limbo in the meantime, not wanting to burden Kate with his misery after he'd tried to find her. He'd seen her through the windows of The Grange that night, looking so content.

He felt more empowered inside than ever since he'd allowed his true nature to emerge. Once he'd stopped worrying about Kate's thoughts he could begin to live the life he was born to live. He looked at her again, the veins in her wrist and neck, thumping, tormenting him.

Her hand moved to his and she looked at him pleadingly. In that moment, he was sure he hated her unfairly. The glimpse of the wedding ring near her neck convinced him he was right. His plan for vengeance had stirred in him ever since he'd seen Edmund kissing Kate in the window seat that night. Weeks after Heath and Kate married; Heath's transition phase began to stabilize. He wanted her back.

Kate looked at him accusingly.

'How can you look at me like that? You married another. You didn't wait as I asked you to. Harrison had drained the family funds and I now see what a good idea it was for you to marry richly and quickly and…to that spoilt brat Hunt. I see how easily an annulment was arranged, given the feigned reasoning that we were biologically…related. I can't believe you actually went through with the new marriage. Of course, it all makes perfect sense, given the way you were raised and your brother's distorted value system…'

'In my defence, there was a good reason. You abandoned me. Harrison finally admitted it wasn't true but by then I couldn't…locate you.'

'I came to find you, weeks later, after I'd made sure…everything was as it needed to be.'

'I was dragged to Verbier to recover from my broken heart. I had a skiing accident. I was unconscious for three days! I couldn't get a message to you. I looked for you everywhere. I tried to find you but you had…disappeared. I waited for you… long enough. You had simply, vanished. It was…logical for me to…marry Edmund, I had no choice…I never believed you would ever come back to me. Not after the note Harrison wrote.'

'I said I would return. Love is not logical Kate. I'm sure your mother taught you that…' He coughed into the sleeve of his jacket as he said this. Kate was alarmed by his thinness and pallor. He looked hungry.

'You are so cruel Heath. You know my mother taught me very little except how to leave.' The woman stood, but she did not move away from him. Just being near him gave her strength and courage. The scent of Kate's perfume was an elixir to Heath, as magical as her blood which he longed to drink. He moved closer.

'Stay,' Heath said. 'Please stay. No piece of paper should separate us.' He took her gloved hand, looking desperate for the first time and slumped into her shoulder. 'Please, get me my…drink. It's in the saddle bag.'

Kate got up and grabbed a flask, taking off the top and poured Heath some amber liquid.

'How is your…condition?'

Heath took a sip and looked at her as if he might eat her.

'Manageable.'

He'd torn the leg off a turkey and eaten it before he'd come to find her. At least the leg was cooked. He hadn't stooped to raw meat yet, unless it was a fresh animal kill.

By then, from the look on her face, Heath knew he had gone too far. Kate, like him, had had very little parental guidance. The girl turned on him as he regained his strength, lashing out…

'You don't know everything…you don't know anything! You went missing after our wedding, remember? I thought you'd abandoned me or worse, that you were dead! What did you expect?'

'I… I didn't want to hurt you with the truth about our family… what I've since learnt was false. I went for a walk to clear my head but the transition caused me to collapse in a gutter. I woke up three days later in a police station…'

'You should have known…Harrison would do anything to separate us.'

Kate looked away.

'I know… for that I owe you an apology.' Heath said. 'Harrison's lie was a shock to say the least. Something I wanted to spare you. To do that, I needed the truth. I needed to find my…birth mother.'

He did not wish to elaborate upon the murkier details of the conversation he'd had when Harrison had inferred Kate was a blood relation.

Kate looked away, 'I know,' was all she said.

'When I had proof, I contacted Greta. She begged me not to make trouble but I had to find you anyway. Then I learnt you'd gone skiing…with the Hunts.'

'You had disappeared. Annabelle offered comfort and support…'

'Yes, I know, and her brother…' Heath said sarcastically, 'You've always been perfectly capable of impressing your…admirers, Kate. I hear you are the talk of the theatre world, young designer of the season, your drawings and paintings nominated for an award…'

'Oh, you never cared about me having a career…how dare you joke about it now! We both know all that seems meaningless in relation to…all of this.'

Heath turned and held Kate by the shoulders, 'You're right, I never did care about _your career_ as you put it, because all I wanted was you…'

'And you had me…'

Heath laughed sardonically.

Kate continued '… You were the one who went missing, _remember_.'

'Yes and now look at you, married to someone else with barely three months between us. Harrison must have really pulled strings to have the annulment rushed through.'

Kate looked away.

'The paperwork was destroyed. It was all hushed up. No one except the family knew we were even married.'

**Chapter Twenty-two **

_**Reunion **_

He was tempted to twist her arm with more than a little bit of force. Tempted to kiss her wrist, plunge his teeth into it, suck her blood and drain the life out of her. But he held back. If she'd come too close, he didn't know if he'd be able to control himself. Since he'd turned twenty one, everything had changed. Even with medication, he spent his nights out hunting, baying for blood, preying on animals when he couldn't resist. So far, he'd drawn the line at innocent humans but he craved their energy, especially Kate's. Her blood had always been tempting to him.

'I waited for you to return,' Kate repeated, frustrated with the tone of the conversation, 'until I could wait no longer.' Her words were greeted with stony indifference as they walked together, yet apart. 'I would've waited for you forever, if you'd just sent me some word, a proper explanation.'

'Well, it didn't take you long to make your choice,' Heath said bitterly.

'You gave up too easily…' Kate said incredulously.

Heath continued to talk. 'Stupidly, I left quickly, without talking to you. I went to find the doctor on Harley Street; I thought he would be able to shed some light on Harrison's lies, give me proof we were not brother and sister. My specialist was abroad. By the time I walked back to the bedsit to find you, it was almost midday. I went past that tiny pub near Dean Street where people had already congregated and was caught in the middle of a fight on the footpath. I don't know how it happened but I was knocked out and found myself in the back of a van being taken for questioning by the police. They locked me up that night and as we didn't have the telephone, I couldn't speak to you. I passed out.

Without my supplies, things just went from bad to worse. I became delirious. When I woke, I was desperate to find you.

There was a girl and a man that night as I walked back to our flat, and they were fighting and he brought out a knife. There was no one else around and when he threatened her, then me… I… snapped. I did not know my full strength. It was the first time I ever… fed on a human. The girl fled. The man was alive when I left him but I felt so despicable. Still, I wanted to find you, though I could hardly face you. You weren't at the bedsit and…I believed he would have killed the girl if I hadn't…stopped him - but I was out of control by then. I vowed never to let myself become like that and to find out the truth about…us.'

Kate was shocked; she didn't know what to say.

'Perhaps in some cases…violence is justified. I am not afraid of you, Heath.'

'Their fight started with a few misplaced words and a punch being thrown out on the street…but ours started so much sooner. We were always from two different worlds, Kate, but two halves of the same whole, even so.'

Heath looked embarrassed as he told Kate the rest of the story.

'I tried to contact you. I'd spent the night locked up and a further day talking my way out of everything - it's a long story - there was no match to me on the man's person so they couldn't charge me. Oh, that's the latest thing, my…fingerprints have disappeared. And… when I look in the mirror, I barely see my image. But I'm still okay in the sun, as long as I wear this.' He pulled out the amulet her father had made sure he wore as a young child.

'I was very…angry when I got back to Hampstead. I felt…unworthy of you, but I was determined to find you. I had my answer from Dr Vincent and I was satisfied the necessary tests had been made to ensure we were not related. Then, I made my way back here to Hareton Hall and walked across this park. It was almost exactly three years ago today.

As I approached the house, Hareton Hall was lit up like a Christmas tree. I felt a pang of…envy, jealousy as if I didn't know how I'd react if I saw you. Kate, for the first time in my life, after what had just happened, I didn't trust myself around you. I was determined to demand your whereabouts from Harrison if you had been, as I believed you were…sent back to Switzerland. I'd already contacted the school after I returned to our empty bedsit, but they gave me nothing, because they weren't allowed to tell me anything. Then they suggested you might be at The Hall. I thought maybe Annabelle had told someone… that we planned to run away together…'

'No,' Kate said, 'she was loyal to us both…'

Heath continued…

'When I finally saw the inside of that house, through the big lower floor bay window where you always used to sit and read, I saw Hunt's face, and Annabelle's, laughing. There was a puppy in your arms and you looked happy. Harrison and Frances seemed so… self-satisfied on the couch. Harrison was playing the "good husband" and talking amiably to Frances. I could hardly contain my…rage when I saw your beautiful, smiling face in the corner room looking outside.'

'I was looking…for you.'

'Well…I'm glad you didn't see me.' Heath said resignedly.

'I'm not glad.'

'When I saw Hunt come over and hand you a gift, something inside me, changed.'

'It was Christmas…tradition…'

'I gathered that. But it was unbearable to me. He…kissed you.'

'The party was celebrating my recovery. I could hardly walk after the ski trip. I'd been in a coma and I'd woken up…and you had been missing for so long.'

'I know. But the gloating look on Harrison's face and Hunt's obvious attraction to you, made me angry. I felt like killing him. You kissed him back, Kate.'

'I was acting. I had no choice.'

'I think you were happy with them… with the security Hunt provided for you in that moment …like that. It seemed to be what you had always wanted.'

There was a long silence that hung between them like ice.

'I vowed revenge.'

Kate nodded slowly.

'I have since thought… I may have been…partly…responsible. Heath, I called everywhere asking for you prior to the day of my marriage.'

'I was… not fit for company after that moment. I stayed watching you in the shadows, my anger slowly submerged into whatever is left of my soul, along with the happiness on your face.'

'Like I said, I was pretending. You must have turned away before Hunt carried me to the dining room table. But if you hadn't, you may have realised why I couldn't walk there myself. My foot was bandaged. It had nothing to do with love.'

Heath said, 'I thought you had made your choice.'

'Never, I spent days in the bedsit crying over you before Greta came and found me. I was whisked away to Switzerland that weekend, it's true. But I planned to find you the moment I could walk again.'

Kate looked down at her muddy boots. The horses, sheltered, were ready to move again.

Kate stood up.

Heath grabbed hold of her wrist.

'Leave him. I cannot be without you.'

'Nor I you,' Kate said. 'But I have made a promise and I cannot just walk out on that promise. Not right now.'

'What about your promise to me?'

'You left me. I can't just…abandon the family who have been good to me.' She paused, 'Please, will you come to dinner tonight? We can talk after Hunt has gone to bed. He knows I think of you … fondly.'

Heath laughed.

'Hunt will do anything, at the moment, to please me.'

'Anything? Why?'

He looked at Kate's face.

Kate blinked and sat down.

'I must have stood up too quickly,' she said.

He studied her more closely, blood rising in her cheeks. He'd seen this look before. A girl he'd hung out with in New York, a waitress who became a friend and worked in one of the clubs where he'd played had been dating a guitarist. After they left the club they got married and she had a child six months later.

Perhaps Heath knew Kate so well he knew before she did. She reached out her hand to him and pulled him close to her. His hearing had become extremely good since he'd turned. It was one of the advantages of becoming immortal. He sunk to his knees and pressed his head into her chest. He could hear conversations through walls so why not babies through skin? The two heartbeats pounded his ear as she slumped into him - Kate's and the heartbeat of her unborn child. He felt sick to his stomach and twice as betrayed as she attempted to take his hand.

'Please, come to dinner at The Grange. I have to see you again and I can't put off the dinner party I promised Annabelle we'd have. She will be thrilled that you are to be the guest of honour.'

He flinched and moved away from Kate as she moved closer.

'Annabelle? Is she still living here?'

'Yes, The Grange is half hers, Heath.'

'Oh,' Heath said, disinterestedly.

'She's finished her Art Course and has her first commission to paint some houses in this borough. She's staying with us for a few months.' Kate added.

Heath backed away from the woman he loved more than himself, with a blank expression. He wasn't ready to give her up.

'I'll be over in the car at about eight,' he said dispassionately. 'After all, Hunt should meet his new neighbour.'

**Chapter Twenty-three**

_**Return**_

The car was sleek and black. Heath loved it above the others. He'd made so much money these last few years, more than he could ever need or want and he was surprised it hadn't made him happy.

'_There is nothing in the world that will make up for a lack of real friends and family,'_ Greta said to him once, when he was a child. He knew it to be true as he slumped into his bath, took his plasma capsules and washed them down with red wine. He'd wolfed down a roasted pheasant when he returned from his meeting with Kate, his mind reeling.

The previous week, Harrison was asleep in a heap at the table when a knock on the door woke him. Most of the staff had left by the time Heath arrived at Hareton Hall. He was surprised he'd left for America without telling his sister about the house.

'What are you doing here?' Harrison slurred, surprised when Heath hovered at the doorstep.

'Come in,' Greta said, 'I was just leaving.'

Heath smiled quietly. Harrison could not prevent his entry now that he'd been formally invited in.

'I gave you six weeks to get out, Harrison. You can either stay on and look after the stables or take your stuff and leave.'

'How dare you? I haven't told my wife or Hinton…'

Unbeknownst to them, Harrison had been gambling in a disreputable part of the West End most evenings. Heath and some of his work colleagues had seen him going from one establishment to another until Heath himself had challenged him to a game of poker where the wager on the house had been set in front of at least a dozen witnesses. Still, Heath reasoned, he hadn't forced him to sign the legal documents. Harrison had done that of his own accord.

'Well, you'd better tell them soon. I just came to drop off some belongings and pick up my suit…'

'You mean my father's?'

'He was my father too.'

'Adopted,' Harrison added slyly.

'Yes, and the only father I have known…a quality you would know nothing about. I have no idea how you could possibly imagine I'd be your…blood relation. Oh, that's right, you knew I wasn't. Thank you for finally ruining our happiness. You never heard such a conversation as you detailed to me in that note…did you?'

'Of course not, mother wanted to leave. She knew father had not had an affair with your mother. It was not his way. He was honourable.'

Heath moved quickly this time. Though Harrison was tough he was amazed at the strength in Heath's hands as he had him in a headlock on the kitchen table. Then he moved closer and Heath (although drunk by midday as usual) swore he saw fangs emerge from the man's mouth and moaned and screamed for mercy as Heath threw him, using all the strength he had to resist savaging him, onto the footpath by the scruff of his neck, like an animal.

When Harrison relayed the story to his psychiatrist days later, the doctor recommended stronger medication.

Harrison had been so shocked, he could barely speak. When he did, it was more of a whisper as Heath detailed the terms of his ownership…

'You'll come to a bad end charity case… even with all your new money.'

Heath threw Harrison's suitcase on the landing outside the door.

'That's just the kind of statement I'd expect from a daylight drunk. You have a wife and a child to support. Maybe you should start thinking about how you're going to do that after going through father's millions. Face it Harrison, this day was always going to come…'

'Am I really supposed to believe that you did all this because you lost Kate?' Harrison bawled.

'I'm serving you notice, Harrison. Either accept my offer to stay on as groom until you find a job, something that goes above and beyond what is legally expected of me - and you, Frances and Hinton can have the cottage - or leave. You have two hours to decide.'

Heath brushed past him as he walked to his car.

Harrison banged his fist on the window as Heath placed the keys in the ignition.

'You really are something, aren't you, Heath Spencer. I did you a favour when I kept you away from Kate, when I insinuated the truth of your dubious heritage.'

'You mean, made it up. Yes, something I'm eternally grateful for. You know nothing about my history, as you put it, but the thought of having you as a blood relation made my stomach turn. I got tested. Kate and I share no biological relation but we have always been of like mind. Perhaps that is stronger than biology. All you did Harrison, was spend enough energy to keep Kate and me apart… for a while, but not forever.'

'She's married to someone else.'

'Not for long. Get your stuff and take it to the guest house. You're lucky Hinton's so young or I'd show no mercy and throw you out on the street.'

Harrison pitched a rock at Heath's car but the alcohol had damaged his balance and it missed, smashing a window of the house instead.

'You nearly hit me,' Heath said, rolling down the window. 'I'll add that to your debts, shall I?'

Harrison slumped to the gravel.

'It's mid-afternoon Harrison,' Heath said. 'Get yourself sobered up.'

'You…you clean yourself up!' Harrison bawled.

Heath heard the older man screaming at him as he drove off in his sleek sports car. Harrison wobbled out of the house with a shot gun that he was too drunk to point in the right direction. Threats hardly bothered Heath. He'd proved himself impervious to bullets. Heath considered feeling bad for Harrison as he drove off, but he couldn't. The years of cruelty Harrison had inflicted on him as a child made pity impossible. Now the captive would become the captor. He did not worry for his own soul or for Kate's anymore. Their fates were linked, he was sure of it.

**Chapter Twenty-four**

_**Dinner Party **_

Heath stayed in Hampstead that night, at the pub he later bought.

I had the dated receipt amongst his letters**.** Harrison had agreed to leave The Hall the next day. He'd delivered a note to Heath at the pub and was taking the family on a trip, with what remained of his assets. They would arrange to have their belongings collected. Heath was officially the owner of Hareton Hall and Harrison had finally woken up sober.

In any case, Heath did not wish to return to his home that night. He'd always liked the old pub overlooking the grounds of Hampstead Heath and had a notion, with his new found wealth, to buy it.

He pulled a Savile Row suit, newly tailored, from the wardrobe. Heath needed to look his best tonight. He showered, combed his hair, drank some Magenta and cleaned his teeth. There were few things that interested him less than fashion but he was determined to make an effort for this dinner party. He felt good to go as he grabbed his room key and walked down the stairs to his car.

Heath arrived at The Grange soon after to find it lit up magnificently. The Georgian house was as fine as Kenwood House but The Grange, being tucked behind a veil of trees, was more secure and not open to the public. It was the palace Heath and Kate had grown up alongside, but Heath thought, with some minor alterations, Hareton Hall would be grander.

The invitation was for a dinner party of sorts. Kate, Hunt, Annabelle and himself were to be the only guests.

Heath was the last to arrive.

Annabelle had spent hours getting ready that night. She wore a long, blue, figure hugging dress that reached to her ankles. To match her sparkling designer heels, she wore an expensive diamond necklace that had been handed down through generations of Hunts.

The round dining room table was set grandly as though they were entertaining a guest of honour rather than an old friend. The chandeliers were on full power and candles were lit in rows on the wall, highlighting the minimalist design. The interiorshad been recently renovated. It was a house that had always haunted Heath and compelled Kate.

When Heath rang the doorbell, expecting the butler or housekeeper to greet him, he was surprised that Kate opened the door herself and invited him in. She stood there, in a red velvet jacket, black jeans and fresh boots. Her hair hung in ringlets down her back and she looked like a girl who'd just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Kate's stomach was flat and there was not a hint of her pregnancy, although she realised she should probably have warned Heath about Katarina, since there were family photographs all over the lounge room.

'Being richer suits you,' Heath said, pushing past her and making his way into the hallway.

Kate looked at Heath and smiled, ignoring his insinuation. The girl greeted him like an old friend, a little too warmly to be a favourite brother and a little too enthusiastically for Hunt's liking.

Edmund Hunt, seated in the drawing room, was finalizing his applications to law school and reading over the notes he'd written. He had been warned by Kate to be civil. His marriage, still in its early days, was fragile. Their child, Katarina, lay sleeping upstairs. Kate had not mentioned her to Heath but her photographs were dotted all over the drawing room. Edmund Hunt, desperate to please his wife, was on his best behaviour. Hunt was aware that of the two of them, he was the one who loved more.

Edmund still couldn't believe Kate had agreed to marry him. He knew banning her from seeing Heath at this point would never work. Trying to convince Kate the man was beneath her would also be hopeless. Kate, although raised with generations of old money, had never really set aside her obsession with Heath. Hunt was aware that his money and class would never be enough to compete with Kate's childhood obsession. In Hunt's view, possession was nine tenths of the law and Kate was his now. Their soon to be born child made him sure of this.

Annabelle had dressed formally for the occasion, Kate noticed. Whilst it had recently been no surprise to see her in jeans and an old, paint-splattered shirt, her sister-in-law was dressed to kill. Belle had also spent the afternoon at the hairdresser's having her blonde hair foiled and waved in the latest celebrity style.

Kate worried about her, and not for the reasons Annabelle suspected. Jealousy was not an emotion Kate felt easily and certainly not in the direction of Annabelle. But she suspected, or really had always known that Annabelle remained infatuated with Heath. His contempt for all her sister-in-law stood for (inherited wealth, class distinction, the divide between him and Kate) would run deeper and extend to contempt for Annabelle.

Heath's pallor seemed tanned; his clothes were tailored and expensive. Annabelle had done some research and informed Kate that he owned companies all over town. Kate had barely listened. She was unimpressed by the way Heath had brought Harrison low, even though she knew how much Harrison deserved it.

Heath was dressed in a formal suit under a pure cashmere overcoat. Only Kate knew the scarf he wore was her own. To Annabelle, who was sitting in the bay window seat - the same place Kate had sat in when she was recovering after the skiing incident, waiting or rather pining for Heath - this would not register.

Heath thought Kate looked like a movie star as he hovered in the hall. He tried to ignore her as he casually glanced at the photographs on the walls. Annabelle shone in the background, but he paid her scant attention in that moment. When his eyes had finished glancing at Kate's infant daughter (she looked to be about one in the photograph), Heath glanced back at Kate, then Annabelle.

Kate withdrew to the kitchen as Annabelle raced up to Heath, enthusiastically. Heath stood formally in the hallway.

'Hello Annabelle.'

'Hello Heath,' Annabelle replied happily. 'May I take your coat?'

Normally, the butler would have done this, but Annabelle had been quick to the mark after Greta wished them all good night and given the staff the night off. Annabelle took Heath's scarf and placed it on the hall table not far from Katarina's baby picture which Heath appeared not to notice.

When Annabelle reached over to take Heath's coat, he turned around quicker than she anticipated. To her surprise and delight, just as she was going to greet him with the customary European air kiss on both cheeks, he kissed her on the mouth instead. Heath showed no expression as Annabelle blushed again and stumbled to the coat rack feeling as light as air.

The visitor smiled warmly. 'You are looking lovely tonight, Annabelle,' he said. Annabelle was excited to hear her name spoken in his velvet voice. 'It's been too long. I haven't seen you in years,' he added.

Annabelle smiled shyly and blushed at the warm greeting and unexpected compliment she had received.

'We thought you had forgotten us,' Annabelle said, pretending to be slightly put out as they walked through to the drawing room.

'Not exactly, I work in finance now. My work took me… to America.'

'I read about you in the paper today: financial wiz kid and all that. They posted a lot of details in the article. Apparently you are the most sought after bachelor in England. You should have stayed in touch,' Annabelle beamed.

'Well, the important thing is I'm back in touch now,' he said, staring directly into her eyes.

Annabelle continued, 'and then I read all about how much money you donate to charity…'

'For tax purposes,' Heath added modestly.

Annabelle ignored his response and whispered, 'I always knew you were a good person, Heath.'

Heath rolled his eyes when no one was looking and loosened his tie. His mouth watered when he smelled the steaks sizzling in the kitchen. Kate, dressed in an old-fashioned apron and playing chef, began to worry that trusting Heath to be civil tonight was a mistake. However, concerned she might lose contact with him altogether and unable to face the thought, she had hastily taken the risk to combine the three people now closest to her in the same room.

'I'm sorry not to have kept in touch, Annabelle. I suppose…real life gets in the way,' Heath added, changing the subject as Annabelle handed him a glass of red wine.

Hunt stood up when Heath entered the room as Kate re-introduced the men. They shook hands and talked about the stock market as Heath's gaze wandered, drinking in the family portraits.

During dinner, where Heath was most amiable to Hunt and Kate, it was as if the seductive kiss between him and Annabelle had never happened.

The first course was heating on the stove. Greta had left all the instructions as she departed but Kate kept getting up to check on everything. The table had been set perfectly and Heath recognised Greta's hand in all of the decorations. He knew Kate must have wanted the night to be perfect for some reason. Perhaps she somehow expected his re-introduction to the family would be a happy occasion.

Kate, who had been finalizing the sketches for Annabelle's play, had little to do with the domestic running of the house. She had been avidly researching the best food to serve at dinner parties…and the recipe for Heath's favourite dish of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

Heath walked into the kitchen, leaving brother and sister alone to chat after demolishing the first course of lobster soup. Heath offered to bring the plates and stack them in the sink. It was the first time he'd ever done menial work in a kitchen since Greta had allowed him to wipe the dishes as a six-year-old. He'd done it so badly she never asked him again. He disliked kitchen tasks but for tonight, he'd made an exception. He knew women actually liked men who pretended to be domesticated and he was keen to impress Annabelle. Heath found it funny because he thought Kate would have to be out of her mind to really be fooled by his act, but she played along.

Kate smiled, 'This is all going remarkably well, considering.'

'I'm not sure what you mean,' Heath said.

Kate leaned in and whispered, 'considering you hate my husband.'

Heath looked into her eyes, 'I don't hate him. The thought of him barely enters my mind. By the way, I saw the family portrait. How old is your daughter?'

'Katarina is just a toddler.'

'Don't you think I should meet her?'

'Not tonight. She's asleep.'

Heath shrugged. Kate sighed disbelievingly as she took the dinner plates from the top shelf above the stove. Heath looked on impatiently studying Kate's perfect curves as she retrieved various forks and spoons. The desire to plunge his retracted fangs into her neck, the curve in her arm, the crease behind her knee - demolish her altogether - was more intense than ever.

'Anything else I can do?' Heath asked standing close to her. 'I have to say, I thought Hunt would have more…staff.'

'Don't be stupid, Heath. Greta only comes in because I begged her not to leave me. Most of the servants quit ages ago. Hardly anyone in London has servants anymore. We barely afford the groom even though Hunt is, as you know, comfortable.'

Heath laughed.

'Is that meant to be a joke? '

Kate sighed. 'Of course I understand how fortunate we are. I volunteer at the local charity now.'

'Listen to you. You sound so…pious.'

'It's more than you've ever done.'

'True, but then I was born a little closer to the poverty line than you were and it's not a place I relished. Anyway, you needn't be so proud of your ability to marry well and your husband's ability to inherit money.'

'You think I married well? I thought you'd abandoned me Heath. What was I supposed to do? You disappeared for three years.' she whispered, wary that Annabelle and Edmund might hear.

'Yes, that was…unfortunate.'

'That's an understatement. If you need to blame someone, you should at least partly blame yourself.'

Heath reached for Kate when he was sure the others were in conversation in the other room. He leant in to her hair as he used to when they were younger and she hugged him, greedily, expectantly, wanting more.

Then, just as he contemplated kissing her perfect lips, he spoke.

'Oh Kate,' Heath shook his head. 'I'm just imagining what a boring little country wife you have become…'

Kate pushed him away.

'Stop it Heath, you're being horrible…'

Heath laughed softly.

'What did you expect when you invited me here?' he whispered.

'Why are we whispering? Never mind…' Kate stacked the pudding dishes. 'I just wanted us to have…'

'What,' he whispered, 'an evening reminiscing? Like the good old days! Did you hide the shot guns? Hunt can barely hide his disdain for having to dine with the help…'

'That's not fair, he's not a snob…he was…thrilled I'd invited you home.'

'I can't believe you're sticking up for him.' She was close to him now. He heard the heart beats and spoke out of turn, accusingly.

'You're pregnant aren't you? That's why you won't leave him,' Heath said as he transported the spoons to the tray.

'Heath…he's…'

'He's what? Your husband…the man you preferred to sleep with over me? The man you…love? Does he know you married him for his money, _because_ of a misunderstanding with me?'

'Now, you're being nasty…' Kate whispered, cautioning him with her intonation.

'Only now?' he replied.

Just then, Annabelle came wandering in, her long skirt floating into the room behind her as if she were part of an intangible mirage or some bizarre circus. She smiled at Heath, unable to contain her thrill at being in the same vicinity as this unknowable, beautiful man. The wind outside the kitchen windows groaned across the grounds of the estate. Winter air that had turned to a deep chill over the last few days warned them of the icy weather and snow soon to follow.

Heath felt the chill then smiled again at Annabelle. 'I don't miss the cold. America is warmer. By the way, I was just telling Kate how lovely you look tonight, Annabelle.'

'Thank you.' Annabelle said, clearly thrilled but obviously surprised to be complimented so publicly.

'I can see this is not going to be simple,' Kate said under her breath as she opened the oven door.

'Let me help you with that,' Heath said, obligingly. 'Kate was never one for the kitchen,' he said to Annabelle, 'and we wouldn't want you lifting anything heavy in your condition.'

Annabelle beamed, 'Isn't it exciting?'

'Very,' Heath said.

'Kate's told you…'

'I guessed,' Heath responded. The sound of the tiny heartbeat drummed in Heath's ears as soon as he was close to Kate. He wanted to savage her and was sated only by a double dose of Magenta before he arrived. Annabelle gazed at Heath warmly. She was thinking what an amiable and successful man he had become.

Hunt, sitting at the dining room table patiently, was closing the half opened window as Kate returned with the gravy boat.

'Darling, I told you we should have kept the staff tonight,' he said, deluded about the rising cost of living.

'It's just friends, Edmund. I didn't want anything to be formal.'

Now it was Edmund's turn to roll his eyes.

'I rather think I would have sooner entertained a rapper or a recently paroled dealer…'

'Shh…' Kate said. 'Heath is a guest… he's family.'

'He's not _my_ family,' Hunt said as Heath entered the room. It wasn't his style to pretend not to hear, to play the upper class games Kate's family were raised playing, but for tonight he would make an exception. All would continue along smoothly, for the moment.

They talked of old school acquaintances and the stock market. Edmund, steadied by Katherine, had been warned not to discuss the missing years of their lives.

Hunt boasted of Kate's brief but shining design of the classic play being talked about in the London theatre world and congratulated Heath on his obvious business successes.

'Yes,' Heath said, 'and, I'm sure Kate has told you, I'm…as of three minutes ago… the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

Hunt raised his eyebrows and looked shocked. Then he looked directly at Kate.

'Darling, you never told me this.'

Kate looked surprised. 'I only just found out…'

'Harrison lost it in a bet…and now, it's mine…' Heath added as Annabelle scooped raspberry coulis over her ice-cream. Not entirely oblivious to the family drama, she looked up wide-eyed. It was exciting that Heath was to be their newest neighbour. She would get to see him regularly. And now that Kate was married, her sister-in-law couldn't resent their friendship. Annabelle smiled warmly at Heath over her pudding. Heath looked at the raspberry sauce and imagined drinking her blood.

'But I thought… Oh, I still have a few of the pictures I was commissioned to make, left to do…of the Hall…'

'And you shall,' Heath added jubilantly.

Kate looked up, 'Would anyone like coffee?' she asked, trying to change the subject.

'Yes, please,' Heath said. 'I find myself absolutely starving for pudding, and I never eat sweets. That must have been the finest meal you've ever cooked tonight, Kate. What an excellent little wife you've made…the second time around,' he said condescendingly.

Hunt stared at him. 'We didn't ask you here to insult us,' he said.

'Mmm,' Heath replied, 'well, you didn't ask me here at all, did you?'

'Heath,' Kate cautioned.

'No, it must be said, out with it. Kate's _my_ wife now, not yours.'

Heath just looked at him and laughed.

'Yes, well, I can see by the light on her wedding ring - nearly knocked me out when we ran into each other riding yesterday. Oh, that's right. You weren't wearing one, were you?' Heath said sarcastically.

Kate shook her head.

'Let's all go into the drawing room and have a drink,' Annabelle suggested.

'Actually,' Heath announced as he stood up, 'I find I'm tired after all my…acquisitions today.' He looked straight at Kate, then at Annabelle.

'I trust you know you will be welcome at Hareton Hall anytime, Annabelle, to finish your paintings and photographs. The same goes for my new neighbours. Perhaps we could go riding again soon Kate.'

Kate looked up. In the still and without distractions, he could read her mind, _'Don't…'_ she thought, _'don't tell him…that I love you more…even after the fact that you've succeeded in making a fool out of me tonight…'_

Hunt looked at Kate, surprised she had already been socializing with this man who he had feared, it must be said, admired yes, and as a school boy, hated… Though now, he felt a slight twinge of pity for the person who was so evidently in love with what was his.

Later that night, Kate lay awake, reading one of her favourite novels, _Jane Eyre_. She read about the delusional woman in the attic, the first wife and wondered how much of the crazy it took to send a woman mad. Her husband had tossed and turned after Heath left but he had no inkling of the power Heath had over her, of how torn she now was. Underneath, she longed to be only with Heath.

That was how little Edmund understood her.

And who knew? Maybe it was a marriage of convenience, just as Heath had insinuated. Their partnership was a merge of her finances and Edmund's property. But what choice did she have back then?

Kate lay awake for hours in the dark, thinking about Annabelle's loving glances towards Heath at the dinner table. It would be a lie to say, as she tossed and turned all night, she didn't have any inkling what Heath might do next.

**Chapter Twenty-five**

_**Scholarship - Present Day**_

Slowly, Katarina and Hinton became friends.

WhenKatarina arrived at Hareton Hall at nine in the morning to help Hinton revise his written applications for the Art prize, she felt a pool of excitement in the pit of her stomach. She could hardly wait to see him again. Hinton had confided in her that he thought his written skills were lacking and Katarina had offered to help him present, "the best possible version of himself", as she put it. He had readily accepted and together they made a first draft.

The Hall, once the grandest of houses, had creeping plants growing from its foundations now, as if it were slowly crumbling from the inside. Over the past few months, the wiring needed fixing, the swimming pool had grown thick with leaves, the tennis court was left untended and the stables were nearly empty. The owner had become more and more reclusive.

Hinton didn't want to tell her why he'd felt a desire stronger than any natural one to drink blood. It was a one in ten thousand possibility, according to Heath's specialist, but somehow his condition matched that of his adopted parent. A trace had been done and it seemed somehow Hinton and Heath shared the same affliction.

Their lineage, a distant, improbable vampire link, was not all they had in common. Hinton and Heath shared a desire to feed, a fear of the sunlight and their own fading images in mirrors. Heath's was now an outline and soon there would be nothing. Today, Hinton's image in the hallway mirror had dulled considerably. Instead of a medallion, Hinton wore a signet ring that Heath had given him when he was small, to protect him from the sun. Hinton resolved not to focus on the negatives of his condition.

The winner of the scholarship was due to receive an apartment and a small stipend abroad. Prague would be darker and rainier than many places and Hinton quite liked the idea of that kind of weather, for obvious reasons. He wanted to get away. Still, only one person from the whole college would be chosen on the strength of their exhibit.

Katarina had insisted on taking him in her new car for lunch in Hampstead High Street. Her father had bought the car for her as a bribe for choosing to study in London instead of travelling far from home. Previously, the thought of Katarina leaving him was something her loving father had found nearly impossible to bear. Katarina, having recently turned eighteen, was experiencing a freedom she had longed for after passing her driving test. The girl was yet to tell her father that she had become friendly with Heath, Linus and Hinton. That was an "off limits" conversation.

It was a beautiful day, rare and summery, like the ones her father had told her about when she was first born. In those days, when she was a child, she vaguely remembered her young mother taking her to Hampstead Heath for picnics. Her studious father would hold her hand, walk her across the road and teach her to ride. When she was old enough she rode park trails on her pony and later, her horse. By the time she was a teenager, she'd become an expert, riding properly in various events on Hero's Daughter.

When Katarina asked about her mother's family, all her father told her was that he'd never been fond of Heath as a child. He grew up with nannies and in boarding schools as men of his class and in his generation did but repeatedly told Katarina he loved her - something his own family had never said to him. Katarina knew this was true and that he meant well. He had tried not to burden her with this now adult concept of his quiet, contained, isolated youth but one day he told his daughter something that surprised her.

'I never saw my parents show any affection to one another,' he told Katarina when they were out riding together.

'Something of an overshare, Papa,' she'd replied.

Katarina realised how different her upbringing had been from her father's.

How strange and quiet the heath had become in winter, her father thought, when he first bundled this little girl up and took her for long walks to Kenwood House. As she grew older, and had her own nanny, the family would often go for picnics in the grounds of the heath. Though the gardens of their own house were magnificent, Hunt wanted Katarina to have the normal childhood that had eluded him, or as normal as it was possible for her to have, so he took her exploring.

Being in his daughter's company pleased Edmund Hunt endlessly. He remembered so many dinners with his own father, separated by an expanse of dining room table. He was never allowed to chatter during meals. He determined to raise Katarina differently. Together they played a game called… _What if? _From the time Katarina could talk she was encouraged to ask questions: '_What if the world was coloured pink? What if the grass was blue? What if Mummy hadn't left?'_ This question ended the game. There were some questions Hunt wouldn't answer.

As she grew older he worried for her and for himself. His daughter was sweet-natured and generous. She had gifted him further understanding of the world beyond his front door. Katarina made Hunt see life for what it was, rather than in isolation and in relation to his needs and those of his family. He knew he loved her so much he would never be able to say "no" to her and dreaded the day she would ask him for something he could not or did not wish to give her.

Like the truth.

The morning Katarina and Hinton decided to drive over to Hampstead High Street, the place, busy with post-Christmas bargain hunters, was busy. Together they sat in the French patisserie and ordered coffee, sandwiches and sweet cakes. Hinton barely ate in her presence and when he did, he picked the chicken off his plate and chewed that first.

'Do you know why our families don't speak?' Katarina asked as she stirred sugar into her latte.

'Age old feud,' Hinton said. 'I think Linus knows the whole story. I only know my version of it. I'm sure your father would have a different account of what happened.'

'He wouldn't be happy if he knew we were all in contact, that's for sure. But I'm so glad you and Linus and I are friends.'

'Is that what we are?' Hinton looked at her quickly, wondering for a moment if she would say something more.

In response, Katarina looked into his eyes as Hinton took her hand. His fingers were pleasantly cool.

'I want to…thank you for helping me so much.'

Hinton slipped a tiny packet in the saucer of her tea cup. The envelope contained a delicate, gold bracelet with the initials KH carved on the inside. It must have cost Hinton at least a month of the wages he'd earned, working at the pub.

Katarina smiled as Hinton helped her to fasten the clasp around her wrist.

'Thank you,' she said, finishing her toast. Then she did something that surprised him. Katarina leant over and kissed him with her honey lips.

Hinton's face flushed red. He wasn't really sure what to say next. He'd dated girls, lots of them, but he'd never felt for anyone the way he felt for Katarina. He shyly took her hand and kissed it.

They had been reading together every day. Heath still got the odd word the wrong way round, but had improved considerably. He was sure the extra study he did with the tutor he'd hired (encouraged by Katarina) had gone a long way to making words much easier for him to read. His world had opened up and he was less afraid of what the future held when she was near. He didn't want to let go of her fingers.

'Over these months …you helped me to have some confidence, not just in reading, but in…myself.'

Katarina was speechless. She had looked forward to every moment she spent with Hinton walking through Hampstead and working together in the studio in Soho. He dreaded what he had to tell her so instead he passed her some documents.

'You need to read something,' Hinton said, 'before you decide if you want to…be my girlfriend…'

Katarina smiled, it was the first time he'd used that word. Then she frowned, what possible barrier stood in the way of this, her first real romance?

Hinton passed her his medical records.

'You need to be aware,' he said, 'that I'm not…normal.'

Katarina looked at him quizzically, unsure of the correct response. Hinton got up and left the coffee shop as Katarina opened the cover of the first folder marked: **Type A Requirements**.

Later that day, Hinton was in the college studio, quietly painting. He had a small supply of Magenta that he kept in the student common room kitchen in a flask. He quietly sucked on lunch through a straw. Since he'd turned twenty-one his desire for human blood had been overwhelming but this daily treat of Magenta kept it at bay. Vampiricism was another reason he and his uncle both liked and loathed each other.

Heath had been the first to identify him as a fellow bloodsucker. Hinton had been so full of self-loathing he was almost glad Harrison and Franny had never lived to see him develop from hybrid to vampire. Harrison had drunk himself to death in his early thirties and his wife, Frances, had been killed in a nightclub in Paris at the age of twenty-six. That's how Hinton wound up with Heath. It was discovered Heath and Frances (remarkably) shared a supernatural gene. Although Heath had not been biologically related to Harrison or Kate, he was a very distant cousin (two hundred years removed) to Frances and Hinton.

Hinton didn't share Heath's passion for chicken but he gnawed on a cooked chop that had been specially marinated, pan fried and wrapped in foil. He'd left Katarina with the open folder on her desk and didn't want to think about what her reaction might be.

Hinton painted freely. He was sure with brush strokes in a way that he had never been with words. He disliked any form of authority but was aware of his need to improve his basic reading skills. He was embarrassed to be this age, to be this bright (he had no trouble comprehending the world and had a photographic memory for numbers and people's names…), yet to still be such a terrible reader was confronting. He'd long ago accepted his daily need for blood but he was ashamed of his lack of education. He'd stuttered as a child and somehow he'd overcome this affliction in his teens. If Katarina believed in him, he felt sure, with her help, he could overcome his wicked desires.

He liked the solitude of the studio, deep in the quiet hub of the empty Art College.

Nobody was here late in the afternoon and there was not a soul to suggest changes to what he was creating. He thought of Katarina and checked the messages on his mobile; nothing. He wondered what she was thinking but didn't want to press her until she had fully digested what the words in that folder meant.

They'd been working on abstract expressionism in class, but for the first time in weeks Hinton's brush seemed to have a mind of its own as he removed the drying artwork from his desk and set to work on a blank canvas attached to a wooden easel.

He sketched the outline from a photograph taken on his mobile but then he relied on the memory of her perfect face. As if writing a first draft, he sketched with abandon, adding the base with great ease and little emphasis on detail. But then, as the hours wore on, and afternoon became evening, he built the intricate shades of colour that became skin on his subject's neck. The textures made him uneasy. Still, with no answer from the girl, his first layer of the image was becoming more complex, like a photograph of Katarina's face. Hinton leaned in and painted two perfect red dots on the paper frail skin above her collar bone. Then he bowed his head in his hands and sighed.

That afternoon, Katarina re-read Hinton's file.

It was less shocking than she'd suspected.

The word 'blood' stood out in all its satin, red stained essence.

The description of Hinton's "type" was unusual but not conclusive. For years now, there had been talk in the press about a rogue species; human-vampires. Born with a weak strain of vampiricism, they developed fully over a period of time and into adulthood. It was different for males and females. The females could linger for up to twenty years in hibernation and it was impossible to tell the difference between hybrids and human beings. Katarina had not taken as much notice as she should have but she remembered these details from a recent article on the web.

She wanted to discover as many facts as she could; she wanted to find out what this strain meant for them and how she could help. Regardless of words on paper, Hinton was still Hinton. Katarina realized this as she read the doctor's dramatic introduction: _he may not sleep at night, he may not wish to eat…it may be possible he lives far beyond the years of normal humans… _The words "immortality", "bloodsucker", "vanished", "feeding", "type A", "hunger", "forever", jumped out at her on the page. Katarina resolved to do some more research that evening.

Upon waking, after Katarina had had a few hours' sleep and the enormity of Hinton's condition had set in, Hinton would be greeted with the message - **it's okay. I love you and that doesn't change. I want to help in any way possible. Meet you tomorrow afternoon Hareton Hall. **

Katarina was determined to finish her Art folio the next day (of a series of photographs of Hareton Hall) using different levels of light. The girl also intended to start reading the files and finish the journals. She knew there was a secret that went beyond Hinton. The hush ran through the family. There had been whispers of a human-hybrid species for years in the media, but no one she ever knew had met an actual vampire; whole or hybrid. They kept to themselves, or maybe they just hid in the shadows.

Hinton, in retrospect, had displayed all the symptoms she'd researched on the web upon waking. His specialist had scrawled in the files… 'The young man has cravings for protein, then citrus, then…animal blood…which may develop upon adulthood as a craving for humans…' Katarina looked away. Further details were in the files that she forced herself to read.

The boy displayed a nocturnal instinct as a child. He'd tried to bite his own mother (at birth) and she had declared him 'impossible' to raise.

It was true. Hinton had gravitated towards Heath as a child. His sister, Frances, had stayed at the Hall briefly until she fled to Paris. Harrison had been discovered trying to beat Hinton with a stick, before he drank himself into oblivion. That part was true; it was like history repeating itself.

Katarina was surprised as she read the social worker's reports sitting in the car. Her desire to help and protect Hinton grew stronger with every sentence.

**Chapter Twenty-six**

_**Secrets**_

When Katarina arrived at The Hall the next afternoon, Heath was out riding and no one answered the door. Since she'd never met her mother as an adult, she relied on the memories of others. In her bag, she kept her fine cashmere scarf, and longed for more information about the woman in the photographs. Katarina knew there were many images of the young Kate in the boxes hidden in the cupboard. The man who had loved her, perhaps as much as her father (if not more), kept these images tucked away, hidden, along with her mother's memory.

Katarina got out of her car. She wore a scarlet coat today and the fierce, biting air made her catch her breath as she walked up to the house. Her dark curls fell in ringlets down her back. The girl took out her mother's old-fashioned film camera. The camera took amazing photographs and she wanted the particular effect film could create. Katarina snapped The Hall in the morning light, from a distance, then close up on the door handle as the gargoyles threatened her.

There was an eerie creak, ever present, when Katarina tiptoed into the house.

Heath suddenly stomped in through the kitchen, taking off his muddy boots in the larder.

'Who's there?' he bawled.

'Just me,' Katarina said softly.

'Oh,' he replied, 'I'd forgotten you were coming. Don't go to the top floor…renovations,' he grumbled, hurrying upstairs to shower and change.

'I just wanted to take your picture…'

'No…' he replied quickly.

He'd always refused to have his photograph taken. It would be a pointless exercise but Katarina was not to know that. She had begun to get used to his mercurial personality and shrugged to herself as she wandered through The Hall. Tucked in a corner, she discovered the Blue Room, which was lit with soft lights, chandeliers hanging from the roof and a hall of mirrors. It was so amazing it had once been featured in architectural magazines.

The girl wandered through the room catching sight of Heath ushering his dog out of the library. As Katarina glanced into the wall of reflections, hers was there but Heath's was missing. Of course, Katarina thought. The strangeness filled her world.

Katarina was nervous, but as she created art by snapping photographs, her nerves disappeared. By mid-morning, it helped that she had not seen a vision of the woman who'd appeared the night of the storm, nor had she heard her. Silence was littered by the sound of paper being ripped and thrown in the rubbish bin once Heath returned from walking the dog. There was a ray of light under the door of Heath's library and Katarina got the feeling he did not wish to be disturbed.

Minutes later, the silence was marked by the loud noise Katarina made, as she unlocked her mother's bedroom with Hinton's key. Inside, the room was all but empty. It was like a danceless ballroom with billowing long curtains in place of skirts and open windows and a wet floor where the rain had swept in, for company. As she stood, breathless, sensing a visitor apart from herself, Katarina heard a chewing sound and a striped boiled sweet wrapper fell from the ceiling onto her hair, like a feather.

Immediately, Katarina looked up; nothing. She noticed the floor around her feet was littered with discarded candy wrappers. They had dropped from the shadows in the roof. Katarina peered closer. In the corner of the large room there was a pile of messy, muddied, riding clothes. The jodhpurs and a jacket appeared to have been recently worn and discarded. As Katarina went to touch the fabric, a bird screeched outside the window. Katarina jumped. She wanted to take a closer look inside the room when she heard a voice behind her and a man took her arm.

'I told you not to go in here,' Heath said.

He was standing to her right, fully dressed for the office.

'Whose clothes?'

Heath led her out of the room.

'Please…just ignore what you see here. Most of it is…old washing. Greta must have left it. I've made us some tea.'

Katarina was so stunned she followed meekly. The interior of the room loomed behind like a secret as they walked downstairs.

Heath seemed oblivious to the anomalies of Hareton Hall. In the kitchen, he was more interested in demolishing the honey soy chicken drumsticks Greta had left sealed in a dish. He ate at least three of these while Katarina stood there, sipping tea, even though it was barely mid-morning.

They observed the view from the parlour of a now famous statue of one of their ancestors (an author or poet, no doubt, Katty thought) that was all but obscured behind a fence. Occasionally, tourists stopped by in summer to take photographs. Sometimes the iron gates would open quicker than they realised and usher those same tourists out of the way. Who knows what these tourists had really seen through the windows.

'I never planned to open the house and grounds up to the public, but with the worldwide financial situation, my advisors convinced me it was the smart thing to do. I want this house to stay in the family…forever,' he added quietly.

Katarina changed the film in her camera as they sat at the table watching day turn to dusk.

'May I?' Katarina took Heath's photograph as he turned to take his car keys from the fruit ball. The crystal bowl was full of peaches and Italian oranges.

'Hinton told me you know our secret. You must have worked it out by now. You can take as many photographs of me as you like. The images won't come out. I have to go to my office, there's something going on at work. Greta is coming around soon. Don't return to the rooms upstairs. They're locked now. Just shut the door when you leave,' Heath said, offering no further explanation. Not fond of idle chit chat, he stood up and walked away.

Katarina was left to ponder her predicament. Then she remembered that Hinton told her he used to scale the wall to his room when he was a child.

Katarina wandered outside. The gardens grew wild. According to her mother's journals, they were once perfectly manicured. Although now unkempt, they appeared lusher than any of her mother's recollections. The wind began to howl as Katarina followed the path from the surrounding grounds of the estate, towards the lap pool (covered in a blanket of leaves) and past the stables. Katarina noticed a few security cameras which unnerved her, but there were no lights on, so she assumed like everything else, they were in a state of disrepair. It was remarkable how useless the cameras would be in tracking the real inhabitants of the estate, Katarina thought, but then she supposed that was not the reason they were installed. At the gates, beyond the stables, Katarina saw her first sign of human life.

There was an elderly groom working with a horse - the other horse remained under cover. Both animals were black and sleek with sweat. It was obvious Heath had not been out riding alone.

'Good Afternoon, Miss. Katarina isn't it?' he mumbled, looking at her quizzically, as if he'd seen a ghost.

'Good Afternoon,' Katarina replied.

'I'm George. I've been working for the Spencers… forever. Greta said you'd be coming. She got held up at her meeting. She collects her grandson from his pre-school on Fridays…'

'Oh,' Katarina said. 'That's okay. The…owner has given me permission to take photographs over there.'

George shook his head as she walked towards the garden. Seconds later, rain started to spit from the sky and Katarina found herself standing near the outside wall that led to the upper floors of the house, contemplating how to climb it.

She'd forgotten it was Friday; she'd promised Linus and Hinton that she'd meet them for dinner tonight. Katarina would have to be quick. She would also try to act as normally as possible with Hinton. They hadn't had a moment alone to talk and Katarina wasn't sure what to say, but she knew she had less and less recollection of her real life outside the family she was beginning to understand. She glanced over her shoulder. George was nowhere to be seen. Quickly, she climbed the wall, using the strength and muscles she'd developed from years of riding. When Katarina reached the window, she lifted the glass easily and crawled through the dusty ledge, landing on her feet inside her mother's old room.

She looked above her, to the roof of the room. It was empty. There was nothing except chandeliers. Then she walked to the hallway and up the stairs. They creaked with every step she took. The girl was compelled to walk higher, to the forbidden floor. Linus had told her where Heath had stashed the keys and she retrieved them from his desk.

When Katarina reached the attic, the door was slightly ajar. The curtains were open and blowing in the wind. Rain splayed the sill. The door did not creak when she pushed it further. The rain stopped; birds sang. Outside, a rainbow appeared. She stood silent as the door quietly closed behind her, untouched.

It was quieter and lighter up here than she imagined. There were no cobwebs. In the corner lay another pile of girls' clothes, used and unused, thrown into a washing basket. At the top of the pile lay the same bunch of riding clothes, recently worn. There were boots with fresh mud on them discarded in the corner of the room.

Kate looked at the carpet; no footprints. Then she looked at the window sill. Mud dripped upon it. An exaltation of larks outside the window announced her intrusion.

The fine hairs on Katarina's arms stood up. When she tried to take a photograph through the closed window, the black covering in her camera froze. The birds hushed and through the silence, Katarina heard only the softness of her breathing and her beating heart. She sighed and leaned into the bar nailed on to the attic wall. It occurred to her then that the whole room had been converted into some kind of ballet studio. There were floor length mirrors along one entire wall. The roof of Hareton Hall loomed above her like one of the great baroque ceilings she'd seen in Italy on a school trip. Only the outside scenery, the wrought iron gate, fragile in the mist, placed her at Hareton Hall as opposed to some kind of Netherworld.

Just then, a bird flew in through the window, startling Katarina who crouched onto the floor. A scream rang out before she realized it was hers. When Katarina stopped screaming, the sound of another breath took over.

Slowly, slowly, Katarina raised her head until she looked directly above her. Hovering in the roof beams was a young woman. Sleeping, eyes closed, hair matted across her eyes, her face was obscured. She was curled up in pink cotton pyjamas and seemed no older than twenty-one although it was difficult to tell in the dark. The tiny hint of a corner cobweb touched the edge of her hair. Her arms were folded across her chest. She was cocooned in a pink, mohair blanket.

Katarina's scream woke her and the hybrid girl somersaulted down from the rafters. In a split second she back flipped off the high beam and landed on her feet. The young woman, a mirror image of Katarina, opened her eyes where she landed. Then she stood and drank in Katarina's face as if she could hardly believe the vision was real. With the threat of tears in her eyes, the beautiful hybrid uncrossed her arms and reached out her hand. She walked towards Katarina with an open palm. In the same moment, her image disappeared into shadows, leaving nothing but air.

The objects in the attic - an antique hairbrush, some ballet shoes in a basket, a used pink towel with cream lace edging, more wrappers of lollipops and sweets - also disappeared in that moment. The only thing Katarina had left was a memory. She stood frozen. Katarina felt sure no one would believe her if she told them what she saw. The girl's face had been identical to her own.

The teenage girl backed out of the room then turned and ran down the stairs, two at a time. Her camera strap was still wrapped around her wrist and she heard the snap in sunlight as the film started automatically, winding again.

George, the groundsman, hovered at the front door.

'The master won't be happy about you wandering through the house alone.'

'He gave me permission to take photographs,' Katarina sniffed. 'Besides, he's not my master!' Katarina added. 'Nor yours. Do you… Do you know what… _who_ is in this house?

George raised his eyes and pulled some leaves out of the rake he held.

'Yes.' He spoke in a thick, Northern accent. Katarina could still hear the high, sweet voice of a Lark, singing in the rafters.

'Did you hear that?' Katarina asked aloud.

He nodded. 'There's been talk of… bloodsuckers here for years. Some like to refer to them as ghosts…makes people feel better I suppose. It's because they're up all night,' he added. The pretty tune stopped and all that remained was the noise of George's rake, as if he'd already forgotten what he said.

Reality seemed to elude all who visited The Hall, except her. Katarina felt sure the secrets held the key to the mystery of her family. The vampire girl in the roof was similar to her and to…her mother. Katarina needed answers.

George simply stared into the distance.

Katarina waited on the front steps. Greta had texted to apologise and re-schedule. It was all that kept Katarina from running away forever. It was late in the day by then and already the sun was setting.

'They say memory is something that exists in a person's mind forever; we just have to know how to unlock it when we forget something.' George said out of the blue.

'You must have a lot of memories of this place,' Katarina replied.

'Oh yes, Miss. What I have seen… ' he sighed as he walked towards the shed.

**Chapter Twenty-seven**

_**The Girl in The Attic**_

Hinton had a bad feeling. He texted Katarina and they agreed to meet in the Glass House. They could go to dinner at The Grange after they'd had a chance to speak. At least outside was safer and, still needing more external shots of the heath in twilight, Katarina lifted the latch of the iron gate. The entrance to the private garden was the exact place she had read about in her mother's journal.

The gate led to a maze that in turn spilt into an abandoned part of the heath. Katarina wore her walking boots as she rambled in her rolled up jeans, a long coat and scarf draped around her shoulders. As the winter evening closed in on her, Katarina buttoned up her coat and pulled the belt tight around her tiny waist. The young girl walked towards the now private arboretum, largely abandoned in winter and known only to those who lived close by. The directions had been detailed in her mother's journal. Her father had taken her there, only once, as a child.

The wind howled and Katarina's camera tossed and whipped around her wrist. She suddenly wished she'd modernized her instrument. If she'd had a passion for digital, the camera would not be so heavy or so much trouble.

Almost immediately and without warning, the air had turned to pre-snow iciness. Katarina could see her breath and soft flecks of powder fell around her feet. Autumn had been so unpredictable this year. As ice began to spit from the sky, Katarina stumbled inside the shelter.

The glass house, located behind a woodland meadow, had been restored in recent years. It was so beautiful that she resolved to take Hinton here. When Katarina thought of Hinton, she smiled. Their tutoring sessions had started playfully enough but then Hinton seemed to improve exponentially. She was certain his initial unfriendliness towards her had been related to his secrets and not his arrogance. It was a wonder Hinton was the person he was, when she considered how many challenges he had had - the loss of his parents, the discovery of his rare needs. She was proud of him. Hinton had the courage to seek acceptance however weird and bizarre his lineage.

Somehow, everything would work out. There was a quote from a Shakespearean sonnet she had read at school that came to mind: _Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds… O no! It is an ever-fixed mark / That looks on tempests and is never shaken…_

The deep thrill she felt inside at the merest thought of seeing him again was unlike anything she had experienced. She wondered if he felt the same and hoped that he did.

Katarina knew for certain that her father would not be happy about her connection to the Spencers, and would never have encouraged their meeting in the first place. In just a few weeks, the course of her life had altered completely. Katarina felt sure of her decision to support Hinton as she sat in the garden seat waiting for him.

Her breath was visible on the glass now. It was heating up as Katarina waited patiently for Hinton who had just texted her to say he was on his way. She unwound her scarf, took off her woollen snood and pulled off her gloves. As she did so, she dropped one of them on the ground and reached to pick it up.

Hadn't Linus, taking into account his stupid theatrical superstitions, once told her, that, "in the theatre a lady should never retrieve her own glove. Instead, she should wait for another to pick it up for her." Katarina, knowing how silly this seemed, reached down for the glove but couldn't find it in the shadows.

Finally, hunched under the chair and looking for the glove, she was confronted with the words of ancient lovers - or they seemed ancient to her.

At the base of the tree, behind the arboretum chair were the words HEATH & KATE 1988 carved into the growing wood. Like a child, Kate wound her fingers over the engraving, forgetting all about her missing glove in the process. An onlooker might have thought the glove had simply disappeared or been taken by a ghost. Outside, the wind drove a branch into the glass wall which frightened Katarina and made her turn around suddenly to see a grown man in a long coat, standing, illuminated by lightening in the darkness.

'Hinton can't come,' Heath said.

Katarina looked up so quickly she slipped and Heath moved and caught her by the arm.

'I came home from the city to collect a file I left. George said you'd be here.'

'I…I was just…'

'Tutoring Hinton? Yes, he told me. He's certainly improving. Well, anything would be an improvement. That boy's spelling is atrocious and no tutor I've paid has ever done anything for him.' Heath seemed annoyed. 'George told me you've been…inside the attic, taking photographs. Good luck, the images won't develop.'

It was time for a little bit of honesty, Katarina thought, as they both walked outside to her Uncle's sleek, waiting car.

'Never mind, there is honour in the attempt,' Katarina said. Heath walked quickly and Katarina asked directly, 'Who is the girl in the attic?'

Heath paused for a moment and then responded. 'She is a hybrid, a human transitioning into a vampire who has lived at Hareton Hall longer than me. There were complications with her transition. It has taken longer than expected. You must know there is strangeness in this… family'

'Yes. So I've gathered. I've been told some things about Hinton. But, I'm not just his tutor. I'm his friend. And it's pretty obvious Hareton Hall is haunted.'

Heath smiled at the use of her old fashioned word.

'The house has always attracted comment,' was all he added.

The sleek Jaguar was waiting on the other side of the park and they seemed to reach the car in double quick time as Heath hurried Katarina along.

'Get in,' Heath said as he reversed the car. 'Listen to me. Hinton is a player. He doesn't have friends who are girls.'

Katarina looked at him sharply. 'Well, he does now.'

There was silence for a moment as Heath digested this.

Katarina changed the subject. 'Is that why I can't see your breath?'

Heath was lost for words for the first time as they drove through the winding road towards her house. He did not answer her question directly. 'Now, there's a bit more of your mother in you,' he responded. 'You can't see my breath… because it's not cold enough.'

'You could see mine. Why is there a… girl in the attic?'

Katarina looked down, jealous that he knew so much more about the cocooned hybrid than she did.

'What do you mean?'

'She looked like me, sleeping on the ledge, and I look like my mother.'

'Katarina… you're imagining things. I can take you there now and the attic will be empty. Yes, it has been said the girl haunts the house but you have to forget this. It will bring you no comfort. You can never touch her or speak to her… or even see her properly. I know Linus took you to one of his wild parties. I can only imagine what they get up to there. You're not…on anything are you? I mean anything that might make you hallucinate.'

'No,' Katarina said quickly.

'Ah… there's the fire.'

'What do you mean?'

'The fire that your mother had in her personality.'

Katarina cringed. 'Is that why you liked her?'

'I, I suppose so,' Heath said.

'Are you going to tell me the truth?'

'I'm going to try, but not now.' he responded.

'When?'

'Soon. In the meantime, read your mother's journal. I know you have it.'

Katarina glanced at Heath incredulously.

The man didn't want to talk any more tonight. This girl was half his age, far too young to understand the depth of his feelings for her mother. He was in no mood for explaining the supernatural. Not now. He was tired; a long day trading stocks and shares will do that to a man.

He was also concerned that the cousins were getting close. It wasn't meant to happen like this, so far out of his control. His son had been given instructions to befriend then dump her, and it wasn't really going to plan now that Hinton had taken it further and just left it at "befriend her". Didn't he realise how much Heath hated her father? How little they owed the Hunts? It was time to end this stupid game.

Heath pulled up suddenly.

'Where are we going?' Katarina asked.

'To The Grange, your father is expecting you. I called him. The dinner date has been cancelled. Hinton and Linus sent me to tell you. Neither of them could get away from having to work late.'

They drove in silence, the short way, before arriving at the gravel driveway of The Grange.

'Would you like to come inside?' Katarina offered. 'It's very warm and cosy compared to The Hall.'

Heath contemplated her offer for a moment. 'I suppose you would think that. But I went to dinner at The Grange once and the atmosphere just about froze ice.'

Katarina looked startled.

'The snow seems to have settled, go on then. You're safe to walk up the path. I'll stay here until you've gone inside.'

Katarina slammed the door loudly as she got out of Heath's car.

Heath was quite annoyed at himself. This young girl was making him less brash, kinder. It didn't suit him at all, and she'd discovered Kate's hiding place and the glass house, which was irritating. How long before she discovered even more secrets?

Once again, Heath didn't like the thought of her becoming too close, though it was his desire that she and Hinton… well, ultimately he wanted The Grange and it hadn't been on the market, ever. Katarina was heir. It was important his plan proceed. Heath was glad she hadn't acknowledged the tree markings he and Kate had carved on that bitterly cold afternoon. It was so long ago now. The girl must have seen them. He longed for a return to those days, for Kate to come back to him. He had waited so long to unlock the past.

In the distance, The Grange reminded him of Annabelle.

**Chapter Twenty-eight **

_**Annabelle **_

The day after the infamous Grange dinner party, Heath decided to ring Annabelle. He asked her to come to dinner with him. Bored with the usual pattern: work, money, a feeding frenzy sated by the local blood bank - he needed a distraction. He'd been denying his true nature for too long, but there was very little alternative in polite society. Besides, Kate had moved on.

He would do the same.

That evening, Annabel arrived at his office in her work clothes. She'd been promoted at the gallery to Publicity Officer and her expensive blue suit shimmered under the lights as Heath gave her a tour of the new company premises. Afterwards, they went to dinner. Every night the following week, they did the same.

Sometimes they met up in Soho near the gallery where Annabelle was working with a more experienced Art Historian. She hoped to manage the gallery one day and Heath was surprised at her entrepreneurial vision. Annabelle was delighted by Heath's availability and newly amenable nature. He was like a new person, genuinely complementary of her work in the gallery, the place Kate one day planned to display some of her pictures.

They'd been going out for about six weeks when they met for lunch in a popular restaurant with long glass windows overlooking the Thames. Annabelle had a frown as she scanned the lunch menu. Heath once preferred pubs but his new job came with an expense account that he felt obligated to use. Annabelle was very impressed with this, but barely ordered anything.

'I'll have the soup please,' Annabelle said to the waiter who seemed unsure, as if it was his first day.

'Typical,' Heath thought, as he noticed Annabelle eating like a bird.

After they'd eaten, Annabelle told him about her day and Heath pretended to be interested. He knew he'd have to try a little harder if he wanted to pass the six-week boyfriend stage with Annabelle.

'Heath…did you hear me?'

Miles away, Heath had tuned out and was staring through the window at the panoramic London views. This was not a good sign. He was wondering how he'd dis-entangle himself from the possibility of an actual relationship with this woman whom he'd thought of as a friend - at worst, a plan. Sensing this, Annabelle did something unusual. She shocked him.

'Did you hear me Heath?'

Annabelle burst into tears as she talked.

Heath, sensing her need, couldn't believe his good fortune. Though never very interested in problems of a female nature, he'd have to make an exception in this instance. The words "unexpected pregnancy" gave him a chance to play the hero, no questions asked and also to get back at the woman he loved. The circumstances were too good to resist. He could take the plan further than he'd initially intended.

'I…I don't know what to do,' she gulped as she talked, irritating Heath who was nothing less than riveted by her out of character tale. It shouldn't have surprised him; Annabelle was needy and unpredictable. She'd barely waited for him to pay for dinner the third time they'd dated before she'd arranged his seduction in a hotel room. He knew he'd become a person Kate disliked and he didn't care. Perhaps his recently acquired egotism needed to be kept in check. The truth was he'd planned for days to spend the night with Annabelle. Still, he hadn't encountered anything but enthusiasm from her. Annabelle was almost entirely predictable and her neediness for his love was no less than riveting to a man who, since Kate's betrayal, was almost entirely devoid of emotion.

He knew Kate would think less of him for having almost no feelings for Annabelle yet taking things further with her. Since Kate had abandoned him and married someone else, he felt she had no right to an opinion. He'd been out clubbing and fanging and going home with whomever, since he'd read Kate's marriage notice in the paper years ago.

Now Heath wanted to use and discard anything and everyone he encountered. Most of all, he wanted to make Kate and her family pay for their transgressions, for leaving him alone as a small child, for beating him and, in Kate's case, for choosing someone else. Annabelle had needed little inducement from Heath to re-form a romantic attachment towards him that had never existed on his part. They had spent the night together after just one bottle of wine. Admittedly, she'd done most of the drinking. He had to give her some credit as she stared at him with her big, tearful eyes. The look of love on her face was implacable.

That night was a distant memory to Heath and he'd purposely not phoned her the next day.

After he'd impressed her with the cheap thrill of an exclusive hotel and his undivided attention, that one night with Annabelle had ended in the usual disappointment as he woke up beside her the next day. He did not need reminding that she was not Kate. Annabelle's arm across his chest represented her neediness, not his. Heath had sat on the lounge chair opposite her after he'd dressed, resisting the urge to run off early and leave her lying there alone.

That morning, a plan had begun to form. He'd left a respectable length of time between the first meeting and trying to impress her at Claridges. This was nothing less than Annabelle was used to, given her spoilt upbringing. He smiled inwardly as he realized she and Kate had at least one thing in common.

She was connected to the only woman he'd ever loved and that connection would serve a higher purpose; revenge.

Heath tried not to dislike her as she sat opposite him in the restaurant. She was attractive enough, nothing like her sister-in-law which really should have been a point in Annabelle's favour. Kate, beautiful and goddess-like, was also disloyal - Heath would never forgive her. He found Annabelle emotionally needy and thus high-maintenance and even a little bit boring, but she also held the keys to The Grange, a property he wished to purchase.

Heath was surprised when Annabelle spluttered out in sobs her baby news. He had been careful and made sure he looked empathetic as he sipped his blood orange juice mixed with Magenta.

He'd learnt to control his desires to drain his lovers, especially the ones he liked and his specialist had warned him that there was a chance he could pro-create. If he did, his offspring would only have a small chance of inheriting his hybrid gene. A boy child would have a sixty percent chance of being a fully-fledged bloodsucker. A girl child would carry the gene but likely be human. Heath hoped for a girl. He'd never want a child to suffer the way he had. He had no idea how he would explain himself to Annabelle. He'd tried to tell her about his freakiness, but she refused to listen. When he was tempted to fang, her meek compliance repelled him, and he held back. She still held little appeal. To Heath, Annabelle was bloodless.

All she said was, 'I know you are different. Kate has warned me but I don't care.'

He knew it was his call - either way Annabelle would raise his child.

'Annabelle, stop crying, there is no need for that,' he said softly, feigning sympathy which Annabelle misinterpreted as empathy. (They should have been more careful. They'd been careful, or so he thought). He'd lately started to read the thoughts of people close to him. It was a habit he'd tried to control but as he tuned in to Annabelle all he could hear in her mind was, 'please offer…please do the right thing…'

Heath stared out the window, bored with the woes of human life. This news should have excited him, he was sure of it. Once, the prospect of creating a family would have been grounding, essential. But now, he just stared into the abyss of eternity, the cruelty of outliving those he raised and dared to love in return.

Heath viewed the river and its many bridges, the skyline along the houses of parliament and thought what a wonderful city to behold. The bloodsuckers who'd come before him had told many stories about Edwardian England. Evenings were filled with tales of beautiful women, dark cobbled lanes, ruby carpeted theatre halls and eager street vendors. His ancestors drank brandy seated around log fires during their cold, mansion nights. And here was the chance to add his lineage.

He realized he was in control and wasn't proud of the fact that he'd made Annabelle feel beholden, when all along he'd wanted something beyond what was obvious to her. Marrying Annabelle would make Kate feel what he felt. The situation was meant to be. He looked towards the boats and the line of the shore that carried cargo and supported both ancient buildings and high rises. He wondered how far one of those boats could carry him if he kidnapped Kate and forced her to stay away from her poisonous family and all that was familiar until she was his, and only his, forever more. He thought about the time he'd gone to meet her in the glass house and wished they'd never parted.

He paused before he spoke. In his fantasies, the only source of comfort to him was a reversal of betrayal.

'Here, dry your tears,' he said, handing Annabelle an unused handkerchief.

Annabelle pressed it under her eyes.

'I have a solution. Your child shall have a father, Annabelle. We'll get married. I brought you here today to tell you…well, to ask you to marry me anyway. I'm not suggesting for a minute that this hasn't surprised me, but we needn't let it derail our lives…'

Annabelle looked at him with a surprised expression on her face. She used an old-fashioned phrase, "You could have knocked me over with a feather," when she announced her intentions to Kate later that evening, just as Heath imagined she would. He only wished he could have seen Kate's face when Annabelle told Kate that Heath had asked her to marry him and that she'd said "yes". Kate had guessed Heath was up to something but she also knew there was nothing she could do. She was married to Edmund now, she was having his child.

Over breakfast a week later, Edmund raised the subject of Annabelle with his wife.

'I feel as if I have lost a sister,' Hunt said, as he read the finance news. 'But never mind, she will come to her senses, eventually - and when she does I shall not be so forgiving. I think I shall re-structure the family trusts, make it harder for him to get his hands on her property… '

'Annabelle is pregnant,' Kate said, her hand on her own expanding stomach.

Hunt put down his newspaper, but delivered the calm, rational words Kate had come to expect from him.

'Then I suppose it will be a while before we see her again.'

The wedding was a lavish affair. The impending nuptials were announced in the most conservative broadsheet newspapers and covered in all the glossy magazines. Kate attended, of course, in a pink silk dress, fashionable and ruched at the shoulder. It was a close family affair and Hunt had told Kate she must attend.

Kate couldn't describe how she felt, sitting in the reception as the young couple danced their first dance. They looked amazing together - Annabelle so blonde and pretty like the sun, Heath so dark and handsome, like night.

**Chapter Twenty-nine **

_**Glass House**_

In retrospect, he had tried to show enthusiasm for the marriage.

As they grew apart, Annabelle was unaware they'd never really been together, except as friends and briefly, lovers. If his wife had ever asked, he would have told her everything. Deep down, he knew the truth; Annabelle didn't want to know.

Work was always his excuse.

The office needed him - the businesses. The family fortune required overseeing now that Harrison had drunk himself into despair and lost most of the shares that had remained in his name. Harrison sold the rest to Heath's company for a third of what they were worth. Of this recent business deal, he was not ashamed. He knew Kate, whom he hadn't spoken to for months, would be angry at him for stooping to Harrison's level.

The adoption of Hinton had not brought the family any closer together and Heath made more excuses to stay out of the house. Heath's career was escalating and he was expanding the company overseas, preparing to leave London for Asia for three months.

'I'm asking you not to go,' Annabelle said. 'It's too soon with the baby.'

'Well Annabelle, you knew where this was going when you married me. I can't abandon my career; it's important.'

'For what? You've earned more money than we could ever use and you have mine. You've spent half your life trying to get back at Harrison, now you've succeeded. You own his house, his companies.'

'Co-own. Remember it's mortgaged.'

'The same thing, you will own it. And my brother, you won't even speak to Hunt.'

'It is an understatement to say we didn't get along at school…'

'But we are adults now, Heath; I just want you to forget…'

Annabelle put her hands on her husband's face. Normally her blood did not appeal to him overly, but he hadn't taken his vitamins and was low on plasma. He pushed her hand away, afraid the yearning to feed and munch on the cool blue vein in her wrist would repel her. If only he could share with her his longings, his issues, himself. Perhaps the marriage would have had a chance. But, let's face it, she wasn't Kate. He knew Annabelle would run from him when she discovered the truth. He was sure of it.

Annabelle, for her part, suspected Heath was not normal from the earliest days of their marriage. She thought he might need therapy but he brushed her away when she tried to talk to him about his mood swings, as she called them. He'd always been cold towards her, Annabelle realized in retrospect. She had thought Hinton and the baby would bring them together but after he'd satisfied himself that the foetus would be "normal" (going so far as to take her to a strange specialist in Harley Street when she seemed overly fond of lamb chops), Heath had distanced himself from her once again.

Every person was worthy of love. It seemed to Annabelle that Heath had received more from the marriage than she had. Annabelle only expected her husband to love her, yet he made her feel unworthy. Sometimes he looked at her as if she was air and Belle caught him looking at Kate's old photographs more than once. Annabelle didn't even want to think about her sister-in-law. She was sure it was their love that had wrecked her marriage. On other occasions she realised that Heath was the sort of man who would have found it hard to make any marriage work.

Belle regretted the loss of her only female friend. She missed being close to her sister-in-law. Months earlier, Kate had pleaded with Annabelle not to marry Heath and Annabelle hated to admit Kate was right.

'He only wants to hurt you…he wants to hurt me.'

'How can you say that, Kate? Why do you think you are the only person worthy of love?' Annabelle asked.

'It's not like that,' Kate had replied.

'Not like what?'

'Heath and I…we grew up together…I know him. He's not like other people, he's…different…' Annabelle misunderstood her intentions almost entirely.

'He still loves you…doesn't he?'

'I…I don't think Heath's capable of love anymore…he…uses women and he's not above using you for his own purposes,' Kate had warned her.

'What purposes? He's already got his own money. Yes, our family is wealthy but so is Heath…'

'It's not like that. He wants ownership, power. First it was Harrison, now it's Edmund… once he marries you, he controls you. He wants to hurt me…promised me he'd get me back, for marrying Edmund…'

'Why did you marry my brother, Kate? I've always wondered…'

'Because… I loved him.'

'Because you loved him or because you needed him? Heath wasn't there and my brother was! Well now I need someone Kate and you can't stop me from being with him…'

'I'm trying to warn you… he will make your life very difficult Annabelle.'

Annabelle had packed her suitcase.

'Promise me you'll give me a chance, Kate. Stay away from us until after the baby is born.'

'If that is what you wish, Annabelle, but you are making an enormous mistake. You barely know this person. Heath is not like you. He's strong but angry and he's vengeful. He'll take all of his frustrations out on you…'

'I don't care,' Annabelle raged for the first time in her life. 'I love him.'

Kate was not surprised and she wished her sister-in-law well but suddenly they were like strangers in the same room.

'You know what your words do Kate? They make me more anxious than ever to leave this house…tonight.'

Kate sat on the bed; she knew she had tried to reveal Heath's full nature to Annabelle but it had backfired. In fact, she'd made the situation worse. Kate had just alienated her only female friend.

'I cannot say I'm surprised,' Hunt said later. 'I spent hours trying to talk her out of the marriage last night, but there was nothing to be done.'

Edmund leaned in to kiss his wife on the cheek. Kate pulled away.

'Annabelle is very determined to make this mistake,' Kate said.

One night, after they were married, unable to contain himself as Annabelle kissed him, Heath sunk his fangs into her neck (the taste of her blood was expectedly bitter to him). He knew, even after she'd fled the house, they could never be friends again.

Annabelle, endlessly forgiving, wanted to try but he could never explain his true condition or his sense of unworthiness. There seemed little point, especially after Annabelle had finally lost it and screamed at him for being a freak. The next day, Annabelle fled to Cornwall and the family estate. It was just until the baby was born, or so she'd said.

He didn't blame Annabelle. He was glad, in some ways, to see the back of her. He was becoming exactly what he was born to be, an animal. Soon there would not be a shred of humanity left in him. He littered his wardrobe with discarded packets of plasma and when the maid found the empty packages she screamed. He wasn't proud of who he was or what he'd done but after his wife left, he reconnected with his specialist and had a new elixir designed for him, Magenta Plus. This liquid began to control the variant in his condition.

When Annabelle returned to Hareton Hall, she occupied a separate bedroom. Heath was surprised Annabelle didn't leave him permanently. His wife had reverted to type and wanted to keep up appearances at all costs. Heath could read her thoughts by the time she returned and he knew she would run off once the baby was born, perhaps return to The Grange, but never to him. He thought she would leave again after catching him gorging discarded plasma from a plastic bag after a particularly long day at the office. He'd married her for all the wrong reasons; to get back at Kate and Hunt; to possess her and her property. Who could blame her? He'd respect her more for leaving. Deep down, he should have been more careful, controlled himself more around her. He resolved not to be such a fang freak in the bedroom.

In truth, he was surprised Annabelle had stayed as long as she had. He knew she only tried for the sake of the baby and he wished he could be a better man for her, could love her even, but his heart always belonged to someone else.

After she left, everyone left. Heath stopped taking his medication and began to drink too much elixir again. This resulted in an imbalance in his system and disturbing side-effects. He craved blood…human blood but had learnt how not to kill, how to just take enough, how to control himself. This control came from the part of him that was still fully human.

Heath started to bring home girlfriends, randomly. This was an easy thing to do since he was so good-looking and hugely rich. None of them compared to Kate. Always, Heath was dissatisfied.

Greta was disgusted by his immoral behaviour and resigned, telling him to join a twelve step recovery program and get himself back on track with his medication. She sent his Harley Street specialist for a home visit the day she left and whispered that she would call to check on him in a few days to re-negotiate the details of her employment contract.

During that time, Heath detoxed and was put under careful observation until he finally got himself back on track. He did some soul searching. In truth, none of the Spencers appeared to make good husbands, yet he wasn't a Spencer, not really. He contemplated researching his bloodline but that would take him far from Kate and he didn't want to leave her again. Though they hadn't spoken for weeks, he knew she was close by at The Grange.

It had been six months since he'd seen Kate and Greta had told him news of her pregnancy. After Heath married, he'd sent her running back to her weak and irritating husband. At the time, he was glad to see Kate go. He'd watched her turn and run out of the arboretum that night. He thought she deserved his indifference and was glad to bestow it upon her.

Only he hadn't felt indifferent afterwards.

He could still feel her under his skin. With every breath, he thought of her, couldn't stop dreaming about her. He felt she must be feeling the same. His senses were more acute, even though he'd been denying them.

**Chapter Thirty**

**First Night**

At the Grange, Kate was finalizing new sketches for another play. There was talk of working on designs for the Art direction of a big American film that was being made over summer not far from Hampstead.

Kate wrote all her fears and longings in her journals, something she had enjoyed doing since her earliest memories were recorded. She placed the journals in a space at the back of her wardrobe.

Her own pregnancy gave her some comfort, although she couldn't help but feel somehow the child growing within her was an alien. Occasionally, she went walking across Hampstead Heath holding the tiny hand of Katarina, who had just begun to toddle. Her daughter gave her endless hours of joy.

As she leant down to pull her child's knitted hat over Katarina's lush, dark curls, Kate was struck by her resemblance to Heath. It was impossible for him not to know. Edmund did. He had told her he didn't care; that they should marry anyway and start a family of their own; that Heath had likely been killed or disappeared never to return. They'd been hunting hybrids back then. This was a few years before the Vampire Act had been passed giving hybrids the same rights as humans, theoretically.

Edmund Hunt had been a good, kind, loving husband and father. He doted on little Katarina who adored him. Yet, Kate was haunted by her decision.

Kate longed to go back in time, to the night she and Heath had run away and they had married as teenagers in love in the tiny church in Chelsea. They had spent barely one night together before the note was delivered that had revealed a possible connection, a lie that changed everything.

'To everlasting love,' Heath had toasted her in the tiny pub, 'and my beautiful wife. I love you Kate Spencer and I will love you forever.'

Kate smiled, knowing she felt the same, knowing that in that moment there was nothing she loved more than secret marriages and the man before her. The love of her dreams sat later on their hotel bed, with its new mattress and sheets. Heath's perfect chest revealed his hard body, forbidden beauty and immense yet dangerous perfection. Heath had nuzzled into her wrist as Kate wound her body around his. She was sure he was tempted to bite but he never did. It was almost as if they were the same person. That night, they lay together on the bed, the vial of elixir half-empty.

'It worked,' Kate said. 'And you stayed in control…sort of,' she smiled, rubbing her wrist where the nuzzle of Heath's lips had left a slight red mark. Heath felt human and invincible, sleepy for the first time in years. 'I love you,' Kate said.

They were simple words but Heath had waited a lifetime to hear them.

'There is nothing I can say to that, except, I love you more,' he said, kissing her again. Kate could not believe that was true.

They bathed and dressed for dinner, contemplating their imminent return to the world as husband and wife. Kate was pale at the prospect and began to look less like the honeymooning bride and more like a frightened school girl as she contemplated their departure from the hotel. Heath took his pills and drank some plasma outside on the balcony. Kate remembered the note that contained not a shred of truth. The words had been for Heath's eyes only.

Kate thought about the truth as she gathered wildflowers with Katarina. Harrison had always played hard and fast with his lies. But of course, the letter he'd written was the reason she and Heath had parted; the reason Kate had sought sanctuary on that skiing holiday; the reason she'd had time alone to imagine herself with Edmund. The tests were arranged and were conclusive. Harrison had lied. But the whole process took more than a month and in the meantime, Heath disappeared. She was told he had died, most likely from exposure and lack of blood.

_And there he lives_, Kate thought, as she glanced over at Hareton Hall from the safe distance of the Arboretum.

Inside The Hall, Heath sat listening to his telephone messages on that day.

He hadn't seen Kate's face for a long time. Greta occasionally took Hinton to the park to play with his cousin. Heath didn't know about this. Kate always asked after them.

When Hinton turned three, Harrison fled the Guest house, a crazy drunk. He had mostly left Hinton with Greta once Hinton's desire to bite had become almost uncontrollable. Hinton displayed many of the characteristics that Heath had. A mild form of Magenta sated his thirst. Neither Harrison nor Frances understood the child's condition and were happy when Greta agreed to keep him with her. After Frances disappeared in Paris, Harrison went mad. He drank all day and refused to hold down any kind of work.

Heath stepped in and offered to adopt Hinton along with the house and Harrison couldn't have cared less by then. Although the specialist assured Heath the Spencers were not even a distant genetic relation, Heath knew somehow, he and Frances had once been related. Heath felt closer to Hinton, who ate hungrily in the kitchen. Hinton was blissfully unaware of all that had become of his family. He gravitated towards Heath, a father and fellow bloodsucker. Heath hoped the world Hinton grew up in would be more accepting than the one he'd had to hide in, as he shared a piece of chicken with the child who gnawed hungrily with his first teeth and gave Heath a winning smile.

**Chapter Thirty-one **

_**Revelations**_

Once Kate heard about the trouble in Annabelle's marriage, Kate decided it was time to speak to Heath, alone.

Kate was rugged up in her usual riding gear and had the car keys in her hand, making a rattling noise which woke her sleeping husband. She'd woken up early and told Edmund that she was going for a walk.

'At six in the morning, darling?' he asked sleepily. 'Should you really be going out in your condition? The air is like ice outside.'

'Of course,' Kate said. 'I have the car. I intend to walk the easy path. It's my new regime,' she said, sarcastically. 'Besides, exercise is good for the baby. Now go back to sleep…darling,' she added as an afterthought.

Kate pulled on her overcoat and looked into the mirror. At eighteen, when Kate had married Edmund, she'd felt older than her years. Now she was barely twenty-one and she had never told Heath why she had married Edmund so quickly; never told Heath why the pictures hadn't been splashed all over the papers; why the marriage hadn't been announced. He probably guessed and didn't care. There were so many mistakes that had been made and more than enough time to put them right, even if somebody got hurt in the process. They were meant to be together and that was that. She had telephoned him, asked him to meet her.

When Heath arrived at the glass house, having pulled up in one of his sleek sports cars, Kate knew she had to gauge his behaviour.

She moved to touch him but he pulled away and turned his face. Kate wondered if he had already fed that morning on Magenta or… if his tastes had become more refined and… diverse. Kate would have offered her blood to him there and then if she'd felt it would fix the situation between them and not harm the baby.

'Why did you want to meet me here Kate?' Heath asked in a weary tone. Heath noticed her messed up hair.

'Look at you. You've just got out of Hunt's bed. I never thought I'd see the day…'

'Heath…he's my husband…If it makes you feel any better, we have separate bedrooms.'

Heath's eyes combed her face, her body, her round belly hidden under the coat. Kate must have thought he was really stupid.

'Why do you need to talk to me when you've got him?'

'I needed to see you again.'

Kate touched his hand, and all the emotions were like before. She could not deny this passion and Kate wondered if Heath felt the same.

If he did, he didn't show it.

'I'm asking you not to…hurt Annabelle. She's been a good sister-in-law to me, a good friend to us both.'

'Oh, this is rich, sticking up for the other woman. What do you call this then? I'm sure if she knew we were meeting in secret she'd be thrilled,' Heath added sarcastically. Then he moved towards Kate. At first, it seemed like he was going to kiss her. Instead, he was distracted by the baby's heart beat and placed his hands over his ears.

'Having a baby…makes it impossible for me to leave now. It does not mean I love you less.'

Heath looked at her, 'And you brought me here to tell me that? As if I didn't already know? How could you Kate? You should have waited for me. I just wanted proof that Harrison had lied, and then nothing would have kept me away from you.'

'I…I know,' Kate said, weeping.

He was so angry he moved to shove her, but thought better of it, though she didn't resist his touch or step back. Instead he moved in close, swayed almost as if he was going to kiss her. Kate moved towards him at the same time.

'Now, we meet as equals, Mrs Hunt,' Heath said. 'Now you get to be the jealous one.'

That was the problem. Heath had all but ignored her since the night after the dinner party. The closeness of her, the nearness of her almost touch, was enough to set him off. His mouth watered, his teeth sharpened. Kate stumbled and moved to sit down.

'A fine mess we have made of our lives,' she whispered. She looked at Heath and realized her love for him was like the air that surrounded them, ever-changing but eternal, always. Her love for Heath transcended time and space and even themselves. She couldn't believe it had been so fragile, that she had been foolish enough to believe it would survive betrayal. Now Heath was married to another and gone forever.

Kate moved to stand up but sat down again, quickly.

'Are you alright?' Heath asked, suddenly spooked.

'Yes, I'm…I'm just upset, that is all. Please, Heath, don't go, please come. Put your arms around me one last time. I…I would give up Hunt if only you'd ask me to.'

And it was then, that Heath realized he'd finally gotten to her.

Now was his chance.

'You must be kidding,' Heath said. 'Do you really think I'd want you now? About to give birth to another man's child…'

'I wish it were your child,' Kate said.

'Well, it isn't,' Heath said, 'and I don't want you,' he lied.

Kate withdrew her hand.

'Please don't be like that.'

'It was you, Kate, with all of your stupid airs and graces, the minute you were poisoned by the Hunts, you came to believe yourself one of them, better than the rest of us, better than me with my eternal…curse. I longed for immortality once but only to share it with you.

'Share it with me now…'

'You'd have to be joking. You're not thinking straight in your…condition. You are so selfish you can't even put your child first.'

'Not now…later, after the baby is born.'

'Forget it. No matter how miserable you are, you belong to him now…'

'Never.'

'And I have made another choice…'

'I don't believe you.'

'Oh, I could never lie to you and tell you I love Annabelle. I don't even like her, though I've tried hard enough. But hating you, Kate…is almost as good as loving you and how I have wished for this moment, to see you as you really are…empty and alone but for your selfish choices.'

'It was not selfish, Heath. I couldn't find you.'

'You should have looked harder.'

'I did. But I was lied to…Harrison convinced me you no longer lived.'

'Well, he was wrong and he's always plotted against us. You were foolish to believe him in the first place.' Heath said, the morning's gorge from the blood bank fresh in his veins. He felt empowered. There was strength in such a lack of desire.

'It was your fault too,' Kate said, 'for leaving me, for doubting us.'

Heath remained silent. 'Harrison swore we were…blood relations…'

Kate looked shocked.

'But it is not true. Here,' Heath said, he unfolded a paper from his pocket. 'There is no connection. I also spoke to my…mother. It appears my biological father disappeared one night after drinking… the blood of others. He has not been sighted since. Heath pulled out his original birth certificate, written in Spanish. The date was clear.

'I'm a year older than I thought.'

'Oh Heath, what have we done?'

'If I did wrong, we both did wrong and now you are paying for it. Revenge is sweet.'

'Really? Greta used to say revenge is a dish best served cold.'

'Well, she always had a cliché at the ready.'

Both the lovers were spent in their argument.

'Please…Heath… Don't do anything you will regret.'

'Like what? Like leaving Annabelle? No, Annabelle will go of her own accord just like all the women in this family. I'm surprised it has taken her this long to work out that I only married her to hurt you and get my hands on The Grange.'

'I don't believe that. Annabelle loves you. She won't go anywhere unless you force her to.'

'She's left me once already. You really think you can control all our lives Kate? I despise you for marrying Hunt. I despise you for not believing in me enough to wait.'

'I… never stopped believing in you. I never stopped loving you. I wanted to do what was best for… Katarina.'

'And yet you married another.'

'I was told you'd gone forever!'

'Mmm… a convenient excuse. How could you ever be with another man?' Heath spat.

'Like I said, he's my husband.'

'I was your husband.'

'I know, but we were so young, I thought you'd changed your mind, abandoned me.'

'Stop, stop crying. This is not the Kate I wish to see.'

'It is the one you created. I have never stopped loving you…will never stop loving you Heath,' Kate said as she stood up, 'but I think this argument is going nowhere, Edmund.'

'Ah yes, the wonderful Hunt.'

'Don't be jealous. He has never taken your place.'

'That's exactly what he has done,' Heath laughed bitterly.

'When I first saw you, Heath, I loved you. It is almost as if we are the one soul and that doesn't change, no matter what. After the baby is born I want to be with you, forever.'

Kate stood in the open doorway of the glass house as the wind began to howl and swept up her hair. 'I can see there is no point in continuing to discuss this until then.'

'You sound just like him.'

'And you have become so much worse, swindling Harrison out of his own fortune, marrying my sister-in-law to hurt me.'

'Your brother was a vicious drunk and a liar. He deserved it. Besides, it wasn't a difficult thing to accomplish and Annabelle knew what she was getting herself into.'

'And making his child your own.'

'Hinton needed a home after he was abandoned by his own father.'

'A home? You sent him to boarding school.'

'From where he shall return once he is educated.'

'Educated enough to run wild like you and I did? I could never bear to let my child be that far away from me. And as for Annabelle, I've seen the scars on her wrist where you bit her.'

'She asked me to. She thinks blood sucking is more of a kink and less of a need.'

Kate shook her head. 'I can see we're getting nowhere with this conversation.'

'Everything that went wrong Kate, we did to each other. If you had just waited…if you had just believed in me like you promised you would…we said we'd never abandon one another.'

'You abandoned me.'

'I never stopped loving you.'

'…Until now.'

'You married another.'

'So did you.'

Heath shook his head, 'To make you pay…'

'I must go.'

'Yes,' Heath said, 'your husband must miss you.'

'I see you are determined to stay with Annabelle and ruin all our lives.'

Heath raised an eyebrow angrily, 'She is my wife.'

'Just don't hurt her,' Kate said as she walked away. She did not wish to tell him the full truth about their child tonight. It had been a mistake to call him. Heath was left in the dark once again; his vow of revenge seemed hollow and pointless.

**Chapter Thirty-two**

_**Birth **_

Nights later, Kate woke in the dark. Her stomach grumbled as she listened to the rain lick the roof. It was two in the morning. Hunt was sleeping soundly, as Kate crept silently to the wardrobe and removed her long, winter coat, her woollen hat, scarf and gloves. Instead of slippers she slid on her waterproof boots as she prepared for the winter night after many months of clear weather. Kate could hardly breathe she felt so cooped up. She couldn't explain her need to get out of the house. Her mind was overworked. She was not thinking clearly. Kate wished she had told Heath about Katarina. She woke up, dreaming of Heath and thought if she didn't get a breath of fresh air there was no way she'd have the strength to deliver the child that kicked inside her. She knew Heath had rejected her, yet she was compelled to find him.

Kate grabbed the keys to her car then realized she probably shouldn't drive. Besides, her car was at the garage getting serviced. She knew Edmund's Range Rover would make a loud scraping noise coming out of the gravel driveway. Instead, Kate walked quietly downstairs, found the keys to the house in the kitchen and walked very quietly out the door. It was a good distance from the Grange yet she knew a shortcut across the heath towards Hareton Hall that she hadn't used in months. She needed to see Heath again; she would wait for him - forever, if she had to. Tell him it was a mistake, that they belonged side by side, that she never wished to be parted from him again.

Kate was not prepared for the cold air that slapped her face as she stepped into the night. She wasn't far from the beginning of the trail that led between the two houses and she was sure she could find it. Rain started to spit down and the irrational part of Kate did not think about the stupidity of walking in the dark, alone, in her condition.

The manicured garden formed a pattern - a maze that she remembered from childhood -and led the exact way across the heath towards Hareton Hall. The lone house was filled with secrets and lies. Kate was determined to find Heath, to talk to him about Katarina, to make him understand that she had made a stupid mistake. She knew this track, knew the way by dark and from memory.

Kate peered through the midnight air. She caught her breath for the first time in hours and pulled her overcoat tight around her. Kate knew she shouldn't do it, but she thought, if she could just get a glimpse of her old home, the place she now missed, the only place she really belonged to, everything would be all right. She'd had a bad dream, about herself, about Heath and the baby. She needed to know that Heath was alright, needed to tell him about Katarina and wanted to see him again. It had been almost a week since they'd talked. Kate walked on.

The baby stirred inside her and the rain spat down suddenly but softly from the sky. Kate kept going as crystal tears, like the ones from her childhood, began to roll down her cheeks. She put one foot in front of the other, driven. The wind howled, the night closed in on her. She stumbled and hit her head on the rocks. Kate was as far from The Grange as she was close to The Hall. The pain was unbearable as she screamed into the dark.

Hunt woke, restless in the night.

'Kate,' he called.

He wondered which part of the house his beautiful, thankless wife had roamed off to. He saw that her cream dressing gown lay crumpled on a chair and something about the emptiness of the room, the silence in the hallway, bothered him. Hunt got out of bed, put on his slippers in his ordered way and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

'Kate,' he called again, 'Kate.'

In response, there was howling wind and an open window. He walked over to pull it down and latch it shut as the rain fell and the wind seemed to gather momentum. Then he noticed his keys were missing, which meant his wife had gone out driving (a ridiculous notion given that she could barely fit behind the wheel) or walking in the rain. Hunt was beside himself with worry and looked at the telephone. He knew where she had gone just as surely as if she had told him herself. Although the last thing he wanted was to talk to his sister, he picked up the receiver and dialled Hareton Hall.

Heath never expected a call in the middle of the night so he hadn't bothered to take the telephone off the hook. He couldn't believe someone would bother to ring so he tried to ignore the noise until, restless and unable to sleep himself, he picked up the telephone.

'Yes,' he said, sleepily and irritated. Annabelle was asleep at the other end of the hall but woke when she heard raised voices. Belle wandered into the room, wrapped in a blanket.

Heath had spoken only a few sentences before he handed the phone to Annabelle and left the room. He dragged on his boots, riding britches and a long coat. He'd had barely any time to dress because he knew, as surely as if Hunt had told him, where Kate was.

'Is it Kate? What's wrong?'

'She's gone missing. Your brother said she'd been acting strange. She's been cooped up. He's worried she was coming here and something's happened…here, you talk to him…'

'Shouldn't you ring the police?'

'It will be hours before they do anything, but yes, you do that. I'm going out, I think I know where she might have gone - it will be quicker.'

It was moments later that Annabelle realised Heath had picked all of this information up from one sentence. If Annabelle hadn't known better she would have said her husband was a mind reader. Annabelle looked both put out and worried as she walked over to the telephone.

Heath could read Hunt's mind but he'd also dreamt about her. He dreamt about Kate every night.

In his dream they were running along Hampstead Heath together. They were children, again. It was summer. They were bare footed and laughing as the sun shone. Heath only needed a hat and sunglasses. His dream became a nightmare as the sky darkened and the rain came down and Kate, older, turned to him with rain on her face and said, 'Remember…when I'm missing to look harder. I'll be there… I love you…I'll always love you. When you find me we'll be together…forever.'

Then he must have woken and fallen asleep again and in the next dream he was lying in Kate's old room with all her photographs on the dressing table where she'd left them, trying to sleep but constantly woken up by a tap at the window. Rain poured down and the rattle of her tiny fingers became harder and louder until the glass shattered and a voice, Kate's voice snarled, 'Let me in, let me in!' Her neck was red with blood, her skin white as snow. Venom-filled fangs were bared as she hissed…_I've been away for eighteen years_…'

Heath had woken and gone to touch the small hand of his beloved but just as her icy fingertips moved on the broken glass of the window pane, cut and bloody, she disappeared.

Rain poured down as Heath walked, ran, and then merged speedily through the park. The meadow was becoming an ocean of water and mud.

'Kate! Katherine!' Heath yelled, shining a torch into the mist. 'Katherine!' He merged faster then ran towards the glass house. A bundle of shawl, overcoat, boots and wet hair lay waiting for him, shivering in the shelter. There was a gash on her forehead. Heath walked to her and put his arms around her, holding her in an embrace that locked them together like one person.

'Kate, my darling Kate, what have you done? No one knew where you were. You shouldn't have gone out on a night like tonight…'

Kate looked pale and her face was wet from the rain and cold which was perhaps even worse. He knew he had to normalize her body temperature and although he was getting colder by the day, his coat would warm her. He bundled her up inside it.

'I'm taking you to the car, Kate. I parked it not far from here. I knew where you would be.'

Kate stumbled to her feet as Heath helped her. 'You wouldn't speak to me, Heath. You stopped talking to me…'

'I was desperate. I tried to forget you.'

'I know. We've both made mistakes…'

'I should never have left you. It's all my fault…'

'No, it's mine,' Kate said, half delirious. 'Oh Heath, I came back to you…' She put her arms around his neck. He leant in and whispered, 'I never stopped loving you'. Her voice was fading. Then she curled up in pain and cried. Heath scooped her up and lifted her from the ground. Normally, carrying a heavily pregnant woman would be difficult but Kate was surprisingly light.

'We have to get you home, get you warm,' Heath said.

'I'm…I'm sorry. Forgive me for what I did. I made a mistake, should never have married Hunt…but Katarina…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'I know, you're delirious.' He placed his hand on her brow, worried that her skin was burning. 'None of that matters now…'

'It is…as if we are the same person…I cannot exist without my love…I cannot exist without you…'

'Nor I you,' Heath whispered but it wasn't clear if Kate could hear him. He knew he had to get her to a doctor, quickly.

Heath bundled her into the car and rang emergency.

'Kate, you're not thinking straight. Try to stay awake. We're almost…there,' Heath looked over, and touched her forehead which was still warm but Kate's eyes were closed, she was slumped into the seat belt and her breath was laboured.

**Chapter Thirty-three**

_**Reborn **_

Heath had stayed with Kate in her room and refused to be moved until Hunt barged in and demanded to see his wife. Heath was asked to leave. He reluctantly agreed to wait in the hall after he was assured by the nurses that Kate would live through the night and the child would be safe.

At six in the morning he was told the child had been born and both mother and baby were sleeping. Relieved, Heath sighed. Hunt walked out of the room and said, 'She wanted to see you. They say she will be alright…she's sleeping now. I have a son.'

Afterwards, when he had assured himself Kate was resting peacefully, Heath went home, and fell asleep on the couch as the sun came up. He was wrapped in Kate's old blanket. Greta pulled the drawing room curtains shut, shielding him from the harsh light that made his pale skin sizzle.

Greta woke Heath from a slumber he never thought he'd fall into, almost as if he were drugged from lack of sleep. Greta had her coat wrapped around her. Her face was downcast yet welcoming. Heath's mind was a sea of nothingness. Morning rose like a cloud as the faintest trickle of sun shone through the imminent afternoon storm that would lead to yet another wild night.

Heath rubbed his eyes.

'How is she?'

'The baby, the boy, is well and healthy. They have named him Edmund after his father. Annabelle has gone to help her brother with the baby…'

'I wasn't asking about the child.' Heath said wearily.

'I know you weren't. Kate is weak. She asked to be transferred home, she asked for you.'

Heath pulled on his sweater and drove with Greta back to The Grange. He'd never had any desire to come here again, to the house with perfectly manicured gardens. Heath had always preferred the wild, unkempt beauty of Hareton Hall. The Grange held no secrets, until now.

Hunt was standing at the door.

'Oh,' he said, 'it's you. She's been asking for you, they say there is nothing I can do except let her rest. She lost a lot of blood but she insisted on coming home. There is a medical team with her…'

Heath knew she hadn't meant her home, here, at The Grange. He knew she'd meant her childhood home, Hareton Hall.

In Hunt's arms lay a sleeping baby with fair hair, like Edmund's. Heath brushed past Hunt and the baby and bounded up the stairs, two at a time.

Kate lay on the bed covered in a pale duvet. Her pain was dulled by the drip in her arm. Kate smiled when she saw Heath.

'Oh Heath, you've come back to me,' she whispered as he leant over her.

Kate pulled him into her, his warm, strong body giving her the strength to speak.

'I wanted to see you one last time…'

'Quiet Kate…you need to rest.'

'Plenty of time for that,' she whispered. 'I wanted to say how much…I loved you…love you still and that I have paid for my mistake…'

'Quiet Kate, it is I who has paid also…for loving you…'

'No…no…you don't understand,' Kate leant in close to him '…the baby is your child. I've named her Katarina. Please…please don't take her from Hunt. I know he will be a…good father, but I wanted you to know the truth before I…so you can always keep a close…eye on her… my last wish is for Hunt to raise her Heath…because…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'You're delusional. I know…all that is past.'

Heath tried to hide his anger.

Kate continued, 'I know how…ambitious you are… there would be no place for a child in the world you seek…and because I know it will be hard for you to raise her, reminding you of me. Hunt will love her… as if she is his own.'

Heath pushed his face into Kate's cheek.

'No Kate, you are talking madness. Don't leave me…don't leave us…'

'I can't…stay,' she swallowed. 'I'm so tired…no choice…' A tear dropped down Heath's face and onto her lips, paler than chalk. 'I want you to know, there was no one in this world I loved more than you and I will love you beyond this earth.'

'Don't go…' Heath whispered, 'Fight…'

'I dreamt, when I was under the anaesthetic, when they took the baby…I dreamt that I didn't go to Heaven, Heath…'

'Stop talking this way, Kate.'

'I dreamt that I stayed with you…forever…here at The Hall…'

'You're at The Grange, Kate.'

Kate continued, deliriously. 'I dreamt that I haunted you…and we went to the heath every day and lay in the sun and it didn't hurt us… we rode our horses…and had picnics and…raised Katarina…and it was as it always should have been. I never cared about…my career or travel or any of those things you enjoyed…I only ever wanted to be loved by you…to love…you. We are the same person you and I. We were never meant to be parted.'

'No,' Heath said, 'Kate, Kate,' he whispered '… I love you. I cannot live without you…'

'Then don't…' Kate whispered. 'Turn me…make me like you. I know you can do it…'

Heath held her to him gently, trying to will the life back into her aching, bruised body but her breath was fading. There was blood on the sheets when she coughed. When her breathing stopped the medical staff wrestled Kate from Heath and started administering every possible remedy to her lifeless body until there was nothing further to be done.

Kate, in her breathless whisper, asked everyone to leave; she only wanted Heath.

Later, Heath let out a piercing scream as he stormed past Greta, who held the quiet baby boy, in the drawing room. The infant was unaware of the tragedy and commotion that was the post-script to his birth.

**Chapter Thirty-four**

_**Transition **_

In the dark, Kate had whispered, 'Heath, you have come back to me.'

He lifted his head, contemplating her neck, only for a second.

Kate stirred as he leant in to whisper, 'Don't leave me. I cannot live without you, come back to me, come back to me. I never stopped loving you.'

Heath pulled her arm towards him and rested his head in the crook of her shoulder.

'Nor I you, I just wanted to make you suffer. I'm sorry Kate. Stay with me, don't leave. I cannot be without you…'

'You don't have to,' she whispered. 'If it's not too late, turn me into you, even as a ghost, let me haunt you, drive you mad.'

'Your transition may take decades. Changing you will change me. Neither of us will ever be the same.'

'I don't care.'

He had been warned by Greta that she had only minutes left. It seemed like seconds. The doctors had done all they could.

Heath barely paused before he lifted her towards him, plunging his teeth into her wrist, then her neck. The taste of her blood was honey and nectar to him but his tears were bitter. Without her, he felt nothing. With her by his side, they were invincible. Kate shuddered and closed her eyes.

She did not stir. Moments passed. He could hear the doctors discuss how many more seconds they should be left alone. He'd been inside Kate's room for less than three.

Heath turned and looked at the blackened sky. It reminded him of their shared childhoods. He resolved to take her, drag her out of the window if he had to, but physically, her recovery was quick. Her wounds began to heal, almost immediately, but the venom of a hybrid was not as strong in transition. Heath felt weaker. He wasn't sure this would save her.

Kate opened her eyes, yet her skin remained white, almost translucent. The fever, hot, began to cool. Her fingers responded to his touch as he lifted her from the bed to see the view from the window, the view in the night across Hampstead Heath and towards Hareton Hall, where she grew up.

'Heath,' she said, 'there is no man on earth I love more than I love you…' Then she shut her eyes. Kate's body lay mute and lifeless in his arms and Heath let out a howl in the dark that made the staff and Edmund come rushing into the room.

'And that is how the story went…' Greta said, 'A sad story, with no happy ending.'

Greta looked around her as she took the keys from the kitchen fruit bowl, freshly filled with blood oranges. The older woman's eyes filled with tears.

'Katarina, your mother would have been glad that you came here, to discover more about her, but now I think you should leave and think twice about coming back…You see, when we burst into the room that day… her body was lifeless. Then, they took her from him and she was buried far beneath the ground. There is no coming back from that. But people say… no body exists where she was laid to rest. Heath was raving on about immortality for days after but he was talking to a ghost.

I tried to placate him, but he was inconsolable. She'd whispered something in his ear before she passed; something to drive him mad. He bared his teeth and hissed at me when I found him lying beside the place she was buried and to my shame… I ran. I always knew that he was different. I thought it made him special, but that night… he was beyond help. I only imagine what he may have done to bring her back…at least, partly.'

The wind blew a gale outside. The night closed in on them.

'There are ghosts here,' Greta said. 'And more than that, besides… You don't want to make the same mistakes your parents did…'

**Chapter Thirty-five**

_**Family**_

Katarina and Hinton were seated in the Hidden Garden.

'I've read the file, Hinton. Of course, I can't pretend I'm not…surprised but it doesn't change you. Not really. It really doesn't matter to me.'

Hinton looked surprised and hugely relieved.

'I… I've drawn you something. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you. Do you…think of me?'

'Do I think of you? Always.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning I accept you for who you are,' Katarina said, as she ate the lunch she'd brought. She and Hinton, both dressed in long, dark coats (Katarina wore a red beret and gloves covering the expensive bracelet her father had given her for her birthday). They'd met here for lunch to celebrate Hinton's win – with the help of a perfectly worded essay attached to his entry.

'Finally I can spell, read and write almost perfectly, thanks to you Katarina. Although I have to admit, it still takes extra effort to translate some words.'

'I am so proud of you, Hinton. What words are still difficult?'

'I love you.'

Katarina smiled.

Hinton continued, 'they are simple words but hard for me to say.'

'I love you too,' Katarina replied.

Hinton could not contain his smile.

'I have been thinking of the future. The truth is, Katarina, I was never very interested in school. I preferred the horses and my Art and was never very big on study, nor was Heath. We were both too wrapped up in our own little worlds; Heath and his ghost, me and my cravings. Well, we shared the cravings. Perhaps Linus is the one you should congratulate. He just got accepted into Cambridge.'

'Wow. That's amazing,' Katarina said. 'I have to say I'm kind of surprised. He's so into his weekend dance parties. I didn't realize he ever studied. I'm still waiting to hear about Art College.'

'Well, I've been thinking, wondering. I'm planning to go travelling this summer. I was going to start in Italy, and then maybe Greece…The scholarship gives me enough money for two if I travel second class. I was hoping you might come with…'

'Yes,' Katarina said. She was barely eighteen but she knew perfect when she saw it (or perfect for her) and the love she felt for Hinton was real and present. She didn't care what her father thought of the Spencers and she had little memory of her mother apart from the ghostly young girl on the roof that day. The thought saddened Katarina so much she put the image out of her mind and convinced herself the moment could never be replicated.

She'd demanded an explanation from Heath the next time they spoke but he'd just dismissed her sighting and said, 'I warned you not to go up there…'

'Perhaps some things are….inexplicable,' was all Kate could think. The girl had looked so… real, so inexplicably like her. Katarina had barely seen the pyjama-clad intruder's face, but she remembered her clear blue eyes, flashing in the dark, a ghost, a vision, a pretty little vampire.

Katarina understood that somewhere, way back in time, near the place she and Hinton now walked, towards the glass house on Hampstead Heath, her mother had once met Hinton's father, a meeting that created this new moment for her now.

In her mother's antique locket, which she always wore (it had been passed down through generations of Spencer women), Kate had placed a photograph of her mother, and herself; together. The locket, she was sure, kept her safe. Katarina looked over at the handsome young man next to her. It was hard to believe, eight weeks ago, they had barely spoken. Now, she couldn't imagine being without him as he took her hand and they walked across the frosty mist of the Heath.

The truth was in the final pages of the journal. That was why Linus had given it to her to read; she knew that now. The words contained strange truths but necessary ones. Her father was not her biological father. This was something she had guessed from the early chapters of the journal. To discover her heritage was a shock, to discover she had a half-brother in Linus, was revelatory. Katarina also had a younger brother but they had been in different years at separate schools and had conflicting interests. Katarina hoped they would become closer when they were both adults.

She thought of the last time she had spoken to Heath. She was alone on the meadow, angry and tear-stained when she went to him. Heath had had the strangest feeling he was not alone riding his horse that day. He'd lately, in his thirties, begun to hear the thoughts of every human being he came into contact with, something he found disturbing. Once it had only happened when he listened closely. Recently his specialist had warned him about it, warned him that he'd be fully immortal if he lived past thirty, free to roam the heath forever if he wanted to, free to turn himself to ash in the sun if he did not. His image would not be betrayed in mirrors or print. After twenty-six, he'd ceased to exist in photographs entirely.

Heath heard her angry thoughts before he saw his daughter again that day and was not surprised to see her standing before him when he turned. Katarina wore the same long coat as her mother had worn, twenty years ago. Edmund must have kept it with Kate's things. He owed her an explanation. Before she could speak, he apologized.

'Here,' he said, handing her his waterproof jacket. 'The rain is coming down and it will protect you from the storm.'

They rode together to the glass house in silence. When she asked him a question, instead of replying in words, he vanished in mist. Katarina wasn't sure if she would ever see him again.

Months passed. There were so many questions and so few answers that Katarina had stopped asking for them. Her own father had died before she had ever challenged him on the matters of her parentage. Edmund had been a good father to her and she had loved him and mourned his loss and that was all that mattered. Katarina had inherited The Grange.

Heath had not once visited them but Linus came around often for dinner. The three young people had wild parties in the drawing room that were the talk of the borough and many friends from Italy and Europe came to visit. It was a world of lightness and socializing that none of them - Linus, Hinton or Katarina - ever experienced during their solitary childhoods. Heath had become more and more reclusive and barely spoke to his own son, let alone Hinton, when they moved out of Hareton Hall. By then, Heath had stopped going to work, repairing the now crumbling mansion, and never appeared at his own pub for dinner like he used to.

**Chapter Thirty-six**

_**Birthday Party **_

Almost twenty years had passed since the night she was born, and Heath remembered it was Katarina's birthday. He'd had the gift wrapped. A gold necklace with diamonds tastefully worked into swans on the pendant. A fine piece of jewellery, new, not from the family crypt, Heath mused. He also had another gift, the deeds to Hareton Hall, made out to Linus, Katarina and Hinton. He placed inside the envelope the gift of a round the world plane ticket, and access to the shares he had set aside for her since she was born. It was the least he could do, with all his money. He knew it would never be enough to make up for the neglect she'd suffered from him. The gift was merely a gesture and he expected nothing in return. Her desire to be friendly surprised him, given that there were so many unanswered questions about their family.

Katarina was surprised that Heath remembered her birthday since he had ignored every other one and had refused an invitation to the party that evening. Instead, he had driven over to The Grange to see her. He explained he didn't "do" parties anymore, especially ones with a Great Gatsby theme. Instead, he asked her to go walking with him across Hampstead Heath. Katarina smiled and said, 'I'll get my coat.'

They walked in tandem across the meadow in the mild winter light.

"I need to get some more decorations for tonight in Hampstead High Street,' Katarina said, making small talk. 'Linus will be there, you know. And Hinton would love to see you again. You never replied to my invitation, so I just assumed you…forgot.'

'Do you honestly think I could forget the day you were born?'

'No,' Katarina said, 'I suppose not.'

'What was she like, my mother? People say you were both… inseparable. They talk of a ghostly teenaged girl…like the girl I saw in the rafters that day. Tell me what she was like…'

'Well, at first I thought she was nothing like you, but I have changed my mind. You share the same curiosity about things you should not… and there is a determination in your manner that is similar.'

Heath looked down at his feet.

Katarina could hardly believe that this stranger was actually her father. After discovering her mother's old journals she had always suspected there was a story she was never allowed to know. She did not understood her need to reach out to this strange, alone man, who hadn't really shown her any love. Only her mother's journals filled in the blanks, shocking though they were to her. Deep down, there had always been something missing from her family history, something that she'd always suspected. Now she knew there was a vampire in the bloodline. She wanted to go far away from here, at least for a while.

'Your eyes are the same,' Heath said, reaching out to Katarina. He touched her hair when she stood in front of him, overlooking the meadow. Katarina could not feel or sense the touch. The man's fingers were like the air.

'And you look, almost identical - so similar that it was hard for me, at first.'

Then she understood, even slightly, that her mother had been right to let Hunt raise her. Her real father knew nothing about selflessness and love, or did he? He seemed to feel he owed her an explanation, however, and she was interested to hear it.

Heath admitted he'd always known she was his.

'I used to check on you from time to time. It was the reason I never left The Hall. Your mother thought Hunt should raise you and I did not object. I thought raising you in a house full of memories of your mother would not be in your best interests. Your mother and I were meant to be together, always…and I have never truly loved another…'

'I know,' Kate said.

'Then you know, everything?' he asked.

'I read her journals. I know what she wrote in them. It made me understand her…and you, more. But I don't love you. I don't think I even like you. I have forgiven you. That is all.'

'I understand,' Heath said. 'I owed you an explanation…but you found it yourself. I thought I was not fit to be your father…with the boys, I barely had a choice. It was…perhaps wrong of me not to claim you. It was Kate's wish that you be raised at The Grange. I think she thought it was less…haunted than Hareton Hall.'

Heath touched his daughter's cheek and walked on. He wandered further ahead of Katarina, ending the brief moment of rare and unexpected closeness between them.

He added as an afterthought, 'Your mother would be very proud to see you as you are.'

Heath moved quickly and deliberately. Katarina was left standing alone in silence once again.

**Chapter Thirty-seven**

_**Eternal**_

The Grange was decorated like something out of the 1920s. Light filled the room. It was surprising to Katarina that she felt so happy. Hinton had not expected her acceptance. Together they worked.

Though she could only recall the length of her mother's hair, her large, pretty eyes and the warmth of her touch – barely – Kate's writing brought her back to Katarina. She could not, of course, detail her transformation into the girl in the attic that day and Katarina resolved that the more fantastical elements of her visit to The Hall might have been a terrible dream or vision.

Katarina had each of the journals stored in a locked drawer of her desk. They represented a year of Kate's life on this earth, and Katarina had read all of them. The words began in large, childish letters, written in an unsophisticated way. Kate had skipped forward to the good parts, and that was how she knew that Heath was her father, although she never thought of him as that. Not yet. Not ever. They were how she had learnt of the existence of hybrids and humans and vampires and bloodsucking and night terrors. It was where she began to believe in the secrets of the impossible.

The day in the mist, the last time Katarina had seen him, had been the day he started to disappear. Heath had begun to move faster, some say at the speed of light. His powers were so diverse now. He thought they might have brought him happiness but eternity without the one he loved was…worthless. He waited for her.

It was not meant to be that way. He'd been waiting for a long time. But a vampire turned by a hybrid is the longest hibernation of all. Twenty years, he'd been told. And even then, she'd need another eight to reach maturity (girl hybrids aged until twenty-eight when they sometimes attained immortality). It was a risk. There was a chance.

For twenty years the teenage girl had hidden and grown, showing herself only in the early dawn of first light. She could not speak to him or any other person, let alone touch them. Recently, she began to attain human form, as she had been the day she saw Katarina.

For the past month, Kate had come to him in the night, older, not translucent anymore, still talkative, like a child. Her skin had transformed from see through to pale. She no longer took the form of a ghost.

Heath was preparing their first moments together. Their first trip to Italy, where he intended to take her, was to coincide with Kate's twenty-first birthday as a hybrid. He'd been told it was different for women. She'd take longer to emerge.

Tomorrow would be the day. Tomorrow eternity began.

Kate had writhed in pain for months in her attic space, hidden in corners, curled up in blankets. Heath had wandered the heath in the evening to spare himself the pain of her suffering. No one else could hear or see her and he couldn't help her, could not even touch her. He was sure she must regret her choice but when her memory returned, from the wild dark spirit she had become, she reminded him constantly, how much she loved him. It was the pain of seeing Katarina for the first time that rendered her silent. Unable to speak to her grown child, or touch her, she'd disappeared for a long time into the dark. No one could ever find her when they went looking, not even Heath. Kate languished in a ghostly form, pined to hold her daughter, longed to take human shape. It was no use.

Tomorrow, however, they would be free to roam together. Heath would give up his human form for now and they would no longer be seen by the rest of the world, at least until her transition was complete. One day hybrids and vampires would be accepted by the human race but that day had not yet arrived and it would not be safe for them to reveal themselves. Those were the rules. Being hybrid, Heath could only turn one human and that human, being part vampire, had had to wait two decades for restoration. Kate's form would be human, her body hybrid, with all the term implied. Neither of them would ever look older than their mid-twenties. Heath would be there to help her final transition, to encourage her, to love her.

He had been travelling, on a tour of his European offices as she had languished in hibernation in The Hall. Over the years she looked on in agony as the children grew. They were her greatest joy. On occasion she visited Katarina at night, resting her face on the child's cheek, mindful she could never actually touch her. Eventually, she hoped they would discover an elixir; that instead of vanishing together, (the price Heath would pay for her complete transformation), they would be revealed simultaneously.

Heath had told no one he was winding up the companies in America and selling most of his property. It took many weeks. When he returned to London he only left the house to go riding on his favourite horse and sometimes he went for long walks across Hampstead, through the park, and back again. Kate was transforming. Her image appeared to him more than briefly, for moments, and in daylight, not just dreams. He'd become more and more silent to the point where even Greta, who had long ago realized that Heath was not like other men, had taken to worrying constantly about him.

He would miss Greta and the children, who were now grown but they would not miss him. He knew it.

He'd stopped pestering the boys about study or work, stopped worrying about the future of his companies (they would cease to exist soon enough and the cash signed over to Katarina, Linus and Hinton). Heath had long ago stopped asking about any of his old rivals and acquaintances, stopped being interested in the world around him.

That night, before the morning of change, when Hinton, Linus and Katarina came to see him, he was congratulatory but distant. Linus seemed more terse than usual and Katarina and Hinton were blissful in each other's company. The general malaise which Heath had embraced now seemed to affect all areas of his life. He had long since ceased trying to control the younger generation around him. He even congratulated Linus on his new start at University, he told him he was 'extremely proud of him, whatever he chose to do but that "enjoying life" was just as important as a formal education.'

It was all very out of character, according to Greta, who left early after the party that night. Heath had relented and made a brief appearance after Katarina left another invitation at The Hall. Hinton insisted on kissing her goodbye on the cheek and hugged her. His body was cool, his breath light. He assured her he was feeling perfectly alright.

The next morning, Greta noticed Heath's bed had not been slept in and he'd lost weight, so much weight that suits hung off him, but he'd stopped wearing them, anyway. Greta had long since stopped suggesting he take anti-depressants. Heath just laughed and told her he didn't need her help or anyone else's.

Something strange happened in the silence and emptiness of Hareton Hall when he returned. These days, it wasn't just when he slept. The attic was inhabited by a young girl, there was no question. Greta invaded the attic one day and found packets of lollies, uneaten crisps, shoes, socks, dresses, ancient dolls and ribbons. Then there were the strange, empty vials of elixir which looked like…blood.

The first time Kate came to him in human form, he'd been in the drawing room attending to the paperwork on his latest company acquisition. He looked up to see some birds flying beyond where Hareton Hall was situated. They looked so free, so wild.

It was three in the afternoon and a clear day. No one was in the house, on the floor where the study was, yet all his pens and papers had been sorted into neat piles when he walked back to his desk.

It had been eighteen human years since he'd seen her. He sat on his favourite chair and felt a reach on his shoulder, like a whisper, the touch of her hands was so light, so transient.

'Kate.'

'Heath.'

'I knew you'd come back to me,' he said.

He held her hand for a moment and looked at her perfect face until she was gone.

From that moment, he searched for her with some hope of finding her transitioned and whole. He was reminded of the night he begged her as she lay lifeless on her bed, 'Come back to me, Kate. Haunt me, drive me mad…'

'Only if you turn me, change me…make me yours forever.' Somehow the timing was wrong. Somehow they'd met in the middle and once again, they'd been kept apart, made to wait. Both of them like ghosts, only one of them real.

That day, she must have heard him.

He tried to put the image of her from his mind, at first, because it interfered with work, with his day. For many years, she only visited at night in what he tried to believe were his dreams.

_When Hinton came to stay, permanently, after Harrison had drunk himself stupid and wished to stay in the cottage, I insisted Hinton should stay in the main house and Heath should hire more help (he did, without question or interest)._ _Heath always seemed distracted and secretive, for a reason,_ Greta wrote in the journals I read that night, after my final visit to Hareton Hall. _I had as soft a spot for Hareton as I had for Heath, _she wrote._ Although I know I helped to raise a wolfish man, you must understand how difficult life had been for him and how his ambition had been fuelled by his loss and his early life and his…condition. Both Heath and Kate, both young and headstrong, helped to create the adult paths their lives had taken, but they deserved better. They deserved to be together, it is just a shame they managed to hurt so many people in the process. Although Annabelle remarried and found happiness at last - becoming the manager of her own gallery…' _Greta added as an afterthought.

Heath wandered up the stairs that final night, with a copy of Kate's favourite novel, _Jane Eyre, _in his hands. He placed it by the bed next to her photograph. He'd removed the photograph when Annabelle had lived with him here, but it hadn't helped him forget Kate. He'd read _Jane Eyre_ when he was younger, at Kate's insistence, unable to see the parallels to their own isolated existence and the seeking of great love.

**Chapter Thirty-eight**

_**Happiness**_

Katarina had been meeting Hinton for months by the time Heath had made plans to sign the freehold title of his estate over to them. It was a regular pattern.They met at a studio space, rented out by the Art College, in Soho.

Katarina loved getting out of North London. She was used to being in central London but she particularly loved the winding cobbled streets of Soho and the West End lights. She'd dressed up for the occasion, knowing that she and Hinton had a special dinner planned to celebrate the one year anniversary of their first meeting.

Instead of going to Hampstead, they decided on a tiny restaurant here, beside the studio space. Hinton had something he wanted to show her that did not include a pen and paper.

In return, Katarina had a gift she had made to give him.

They kissed as lovers do, warm and close. It was as if they had always been like this. Although it had taken them many months to feel comfortable in each other's company, they now trusted each other completely. Hinton took Katarina's hand as they went to the studio together, tripping through crowds and Christmas lights of a frosty London winter.

'Quick, Katarina, I want to show you something.'

'Yes Hinton, I have something important to tell you also, something I've been saving for today.'

Hinton looked at her in the street, as they stood still together as the crowds bustled around them. Her face shone with beauty, hope and expectation.

Hinton had dreaded this moment - the moment he knew in his heart would eventually arrive. Everyone he had been close to, even momentarily, had abandoned him. First his own parents, whom he'd never met, then his adopted parents; even his adopted uncle had shown little interest in him beyond teaching him to fight back and be sullen and not trust another living soul. But he trusted this girl and she sensed his desperation when she said she had something important to tell him. Hinton's face was downcast, he knew it was irrational. They'd never had an argument since the day they'd met but still the thought remained that she might be breaking up with him. After all, he needed plasma every nine hours to exist.

'I…I knew you would…tire of me…you are such an amazing person but…'

'Oh no, Hinton, you misunderstand…Hinton …I …love you. I think I've loved you since we both sounded out the word "incandescent" …you are…the most original, amazing…'

He put his finger on her mouth, happy that the night had not been ruined, and the surprise was still before them.

'Before you say anything else, you need to see this…'

They had reached the studio, a small building, one floor up on a tiny side street in Soho.

Hinton opened the door slowly.

He wrapped his tie across her eyes.

'Wait,' he said.

'Hinton, what are you up to?'

'I'm showing you something I've been working on over the autumn. It's something special…it's my future.'

Kate stood still in the centre of the room, an empty room with tall ceilings apart from the painting on the easel in the middle.

'Open your eyes.'

Katarina stood in her coat, flicks of snow upon her shoulders and glanced at the tall, handsome boy with the kind eyes, then glanced back at the painting of her.

'What do you think Katarina?'

'It's…amazing. I'm speechless…'

'It won first prize. You won me first prize.'

The picture that stared back at them was of a young woman's face, an identical artist's interpretation of the beautiful girl in the room. The haunted look in her eyes was replaced with something verging on both satisfaction and calm. If there was a word to describe the expression on Katarina's face in the portrait, it would be love.

'You are the reason I won this scholarship. I'm going abroad for the summer…'

Kate's face dropped…

'Well, that's wonderful… I had something for you but now…'

Kate realized Hinton had meant more to her than she to him, for he was the one contemplating leaving.

Hinton took her hands in the shadow of the exquisite painting. Light beamed in from Soho streetlamps. Wind whipped up leaves on the cobbled stone. He could hear her heart and tried to stop himself from hearing her thoughts. He'd consulted a specialist who'd said by twenty-one, his needs would be fully formed. But for tonight, he was okay. Together, they were warm and safe.

'It's just that… I made something for you, but I don't know if I should give it to you now. I mean, now that you are going…'

Katarina sat on the forgotten lounge which had been covered in an old painter's canvas sheet. There were splotches of blue and pink oil paint around the frayed edges of the material.

Hinton moved towards her slowly, blood tightening in his veins. He hesitated.

'That's just it, Katarina. I don't want to go alone. I know you shouldn't accept me, as I am and I know it's early to ask you this - we are young…I am…different, to say the least but…'

Katarina looked more intently at him, not wanting to anticipate his meaning without having it spelt out before her. He wanted her to go with him… or did he?

It was easier for him. All his life he had felt unloved until now. Hinton did not want any misunderstandings or any lack of clarity to mess things up the way love had messed up the people around him - his adopted Uncle, for example.

'I… I love you. And I was wondering if you could overlook…'

Hinton got down on one knee on the bare floors, his mouth watering with nerves, his blood tight in his veins…

'I…am wondering…would you do me the honour…'

Katarina was surprised. She had thought he'd meant her to travel with him but…this.

'Yes,' Katarina said…

'I haven't asked…' he began.

'Ask the question,' Katarina smiled.

'Katarina Spencer…I know we are young, I know we should be fearful of my…condition, but I've never been surer of anyone. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'

'Yes,' Katarina said.

In the shadow formed by street lamps, the young lovers kissed.

**Chapter Thirty-nine**

_**Wuthering Nights **_

It was an icy winter evening in Hampstead as he spread out all of the documents that ridiculous lawyer had required of him for the transferral of property and funds. He was sure he hadn't neglected anything. He left no notes but he knew Greta would do as he wished. She had not been forgotten either. There was an envelope for her which would be sure to allow her to live in luxury for the rest of her life. Apart from Kate, she had been the most loyal person he'd known.

Heath dressed in his warmest black turtle neck jumper and found his boots and the coat he liked best and wore most often. He heard a tap at the window, rain mixed with the branches of the tree outside, hail trickling onto the roof, reminding him of her beautiful face and pale fingers reaching for him.

It was not unusual any more. The waiting, the anticipation, the brief visits that had prolonged his years. He had taken to staying out late then driving home at two in the morning. But tonight was different, tonight she hadn't come to him and he knew it was because it was his turn to find her. Kate was waiting for him in the dark, on the heath, in human form.

She called to him when no one could hear, no one but him.

'I've missed you…' She said, 'I told you I'd come back to you.'

'Kate,' he whispered, 'it's been forever…' he said under his breath, glad she was so restless, like him, a twin soul.

**Epilogue**

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London. **_

In the morning, I was called to investigate the business transactions of a certain Heath Spencer and the links amongst his family which allowed him to divide his assets between three heirs. I was alarmed by news of his passing, but not surprised. The Spencers hadn't made it public and there was no note so it had taken some years for the law to rule that he'd died "of exposure" in the night. It was all rather strange, since his body was never found.

Rather than try to navigate the heath on a frosty winter morning, I stopped and parked near the local pub again and decided to enjoy the ten minute walk along the winding, private road that led to the imposing exterior of Hareton Hall. I was due to visit the new owner, Hinton Spencer, a young man who was married to Katarina Hunt. They had a three year old child and were in a hurry to get the documents signed because they were due to leave for America to spend a summer painting abroad. They were taking an extended vacation and assured me they did not care to live at The Hall but did not wish to sell the place, either. It was a simple matter of the transfer of documents that I'd waited some years to finalize. Hareton Hall would then be returned to its rightful owners.

It was a grinding walk, starting flat and easy and heading ever so slightly up hill, and then, when the sleet and wet started, down again. I was glad I could see the imposing house in the distance.

When I finally arrived there was not a hint of movement, save wind across ground, whipping the heather into a lavender mix in the distance. Up close, there was no sign of the housekeeper either whom I'd been led to believe still lived at Hareton Hall. There was no sign of anything. The fact that the owner had gone "missing" had led to many years of legal uncertainty.

An elderly man, wearing gloves, who looked like he worked with animals, wandered out from the stables, as if from nowhere. He must have been close to ninety years old.

'Is anyone at home?' I asked.

'Not likely,' he replied. 'I've just come from exercising the horses…'

'Is the owner here?'

'You could say that, many do…' he replied enigmatically. He looked at me strangely as he walked into air.

I wandered around to the side of the house, where the cobwebs grew and the foliage had been left wild, giving the lower floor of Hareton Hall the appearance of being covered in unruly brownish lace. There were windows and doors shut tight and locked. The garages were closed and the stables remained empty apart from one where a door had been left swinging open. The grounds themselves, once manicured, had grown wild and lush with secrets.

The owner, I thought, the young man I sought, a Mr Hinton Spencer, must have risen early to go riding across the heath with his wife.

Then I remembered the tales of ghouls and ghosts, the objects seen moving in windows, the people long gone that neighbours reported having seen only days ago. Someone in particular, a young woman with long dark hair who wandered the corridors and played loud music, turning on all the lights during wild, evening parties and lighting hundreds of fire -hazardous candles. I'd assumed the reports were simply jealous neighbours complaining about the noise created by the beautiful young wife, the new Mrs Spencer who'd also had the keys and the run of Hareton Hall. Since the noise always stopped at midnight, there was little anyone could do.

I was about to give up, admit defeat and return the copies of the papers declaring transfer of original ownership to the rightful heirs of Hareton Hall, when I saw the curtains in the upstairs window move. A young girl with long dark hair glanced down at me and smiled. I knocked loudly and waited for a long time, but still, no one answered.

'Katarina Spencer,' I announced, calling out distinctly, although I knew Katarina would be older now and the woman at the window was barely out of her teens. The downstairs curtains waved and I thought perhaps the housekeeper might be there. I looked up again. The girl who stood at the window was beautiful, otherworldly. The image disappeared before my eyes in a mirage of dark curls, cream lace and ruby cheeks.

I was convinced the cold, like the heat, could make you see a mirage in the mist yet I waited on the doorstep for a long time. No one answered. I was tempted to look back as I walked towards my car. For the first time in my life I didn't need proof. I was sure the rumours I'd heard were true, though my notes had many pages missing. As I drove towards The Grange, I was certain the lovers who had once inhabited Hareton Hall, lived there still. The girl had not aged a day since she was last seen alive, more than twenty years ago.

Summer Day is the author of Pride & Princesses, a novel for young adults inspired by Pride and Prejudice and Anne Eyre, a YA novel inspired by Jane Eyre. Follow Summer Day on:

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276


	5. The Grange Chapter 4

Wuthering Nights by Summer Day

Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer: 

Wuthering Nights

Copyright © 2012 Summer Day

All rights reserved worldwide.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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*Note to Readers: UK Spelling / Punctuation used in Wuthering Nights

**WUTHERING NIGHTS **

**Prologue**

**From the journal of Greta Gardner, February 1978**

_The boy arrived at night, wrapped in a blanket. He was carried by his adopted father who placed him on the kitchen floor next to me. His big blue eyes stared out from under his wild black hair. He shrank from the fire, he shrank from my touch, yet his skin was cold as ice… _

_He arrived with a list of instructions tucked into the pocket of his jacket. _

_Eats - mostly chicken and oranges (likes: roast chicken, blood oranges and plums). _

_Drinks - mostly water and citrus juice._

_First warning - do not let him go in the sun often as he burns easily. _

_Second warning - make sure he wears his necklace amulet (a parting gift from his biological mother). He screams if you take it. _

_Final Warning - do not let him go out at night alone. _

_As a small boy (just walking) he had a tendency to wander off, and many times staff at the orphanage were unable to find the little fellow for hours. Once, he was found hanging upside down from the roof of the school gymnasium, like a bat. The only giveaway was the drip drip drip of juice as he stuffed his baby face with blood oranges._

_His file was then stamped: Special Needs. _

_I shook my head as I read this. I was sure Mr Spencer had finally lost his mind dragging the mite all the way back from Spain. It was many years before I learnt the full extent of his malady._

**Chapter One**

_**Hareton Hall**_

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London, Present Day**_

When I saw the house in the fragile light, I could barely make out the lines of gothic architecture in the morning mist. I'd heard whispers about the strangeness of the place. I was told that I risked my life going there; that the owner brandished a gun and roamed the heath looking for his lost love. Music and chatter, laughter and screams could be heard miles away in the night. Neighbours said the lovers who'd inhabited Hareton Hall lived there still, as young and beautiful as they ever were; haunted.

The family, the Spencers, originated in Yorkshire and could trace their lineage back a thousand years. Their secrets wove through history and time and family portraits. I held in my hand a photograph of Mr Spencer, an aristocrat with an interest in archaeology, returning from a trip to Spain with a small child. Among other documents, there was a photograph of the entire family, arriving to greet Mr Spencer and his newly adopted son at the airport. The family were generationally wealthy. Mr Spencer had an interest in Botany. According to my documents, he kept to himself and his study. Within the file, I also retained the marriage notice of the daughter, Kate. This was long before the family feud that had ignited decades of dispute.

In the picture was a beautiful mother with ink black curls. The older teenage boy, Harrison, had a scowl on his face and headphones on his ears. He appeared tuned out from the proceedings. The girl, her dark curls tied with an unruly red ribbon, revealed an adorable cherub face. Aged six, she peeked out from behind her mother and stole the picture. It was this child's face I remembered long after I'd set the image aside.

As I walked along the winding road that led from Hampstead Heath towards Hareton Hall, I passed another magnificent home, The Grange. This was a Georgian mansion hidden behind a maze of orange trees as opposed to The Hall where photographs showed gargoyles at its entrance. The signatures I was required to collect involved the ownership of both properties.

I'd been advised not to try to park along the icy road that connected the houses on opposite sides of the heath. Instead, I'd driven to a spot along the frosty lane which meant I had to walk the rest of the way in the rain. Late afternoon seemed to be losing light but then all the days were dark now as London turned rapidly into winter. It was not a good time to walk about the borough. A man had recently gone missing and was yet to be found. As I was surrounded by street crime in my first position as junior solicitor at a criminal law firm, I was not perturbed.

I pushed the family photograph, covered in plastic, deep inside my briefcase along with some handwritten journals kept by Kate Spencer, the only daughter of the house, and one by the housekeeper, Greta Gardner. Greta's journal contained a collection of various yearly expenses with some alarming family details written in the margins. Both contained valuable information entrusted to me. I noticed The Grange to my right, a well-kept home, built not far from a local landmark, Kenwood House. The Grange held some of the allure, yet I suspected hosted none of the secrets, of Hareton Hall.

The history of the Spencer family haunted me as I walked. I remembered words and snippets from the bizarre journals. For example, Heath was described as_, "a pale little boy with sharp milk teeth!" _This journal scribble was mixed with the photographs I resolved to return to their rightful owner. As I rounded the corner, I was almost as keen to talk to Greta Gardner, the housekeeper and keeper of secrets, as I was to speak with the owner of The Hall.

The heath was silent and stark in bare winter.

I'd visited during summer as a child but never with such purpose in my step. To my right and to my great relief, I saw the entrance to a pub. I'd been there with my family once, just after I'd graduated from university. I decided to warm myself and ask for directions.

The Horse and Ale used to serve delicious roast dinners and hot toddies. I hoped it hadn't changed too much in the intervening years.

I settled in front of the fire, grateful for the familiarity as I drank my hot, strong mulled wine. When the waiter asked me if I needed anything extra, I asked him for directions to Hareton Hall.

'Who wants to know?' The low, gruff voice of a man, perhaps in his thirties, spoke to me from behind one of the many sofas. He had a plate of what appeared to be lamb, dipped in gravy and a large pint of dark ale in his hand. His dog lay lovingly, sleeping at his feet, apparently unbothered by the smell of roasted meat.

'Ah, I do.'

'Really? And who might you be?'

To say he was unfriendly would be an understatement.

'I'm well, who are you?'

He almost laughed.

'I asked you first.'

'I'm Tom Bennett, the junior partner from _Bennett & Sons_. I have an appointment at Hareton Hall.'

'To see the owner?'

'Yes, and who might you be?'

'I am the owner.'

He didn't smile. He rose slowly. For a youngish man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. He looked like a hard partying insomniac. I offered him my hand and he took it obligingly. If I was trained to comment on such things, which I suppose I am, I'd say he was tall and fairly handsome. The air of sleeplessness hung over him like a cloud. He was polite yet unfriendly; he did not smile. He was unshaven; his dark shirt was unironed but expensive. He stared at me coldly.

The publican scurried off to some far flung corner of the establishment. One of the lights overhead flickered as the man moved closer to me. He picked up an implement from the fireside and stoked the flame.

I took another sip of my drink and waited for him to speak.

'Well then, it's me you've come to see. Place is empty, except for my housekeeper Greta, a few horses in the stables and the dogs.

'Perhaps I could come to Hareton Hall?'

'What for?'

'It would help if I sighted the property and it may be easier to talk there.'

'I am busy this evening. If you had come earlier as arranged…'

'I was detained. It was further away from Hampstead than I expected.'

'Even so, I don't have visitors at night. I shall arrange for you to come tomorrow morning. Twenty minutes.'

'It may take more than twenty minutes.'

The rain poured down overhead and with it the darkness of early winter. For once, I was glad as a young man, not to have to hurry back to a wife and family.

The man shrugged.

'Well, it's getting late. You can stay here tonight - for free; I own the pub. I'll send my driver to get you at nine in the morning. We can finalize the matter then.'

He smiled for the first time at the blonde, middle-aged woman who entered the room and moved softly behind the bar.

'This is Greta; she used to be the housekeeper at Hareton Hall; raised me as a child; she'll fill you in on the story. Look after him Greta and see he gets a comfortable bed.'

Greta looked at me warily.

He whistled to his dog, a large amiable Labrador who obviously worshipped his master.

The dog sat up and barked. I think his owner was used to people behaving in a similar manner.

It turned out Greta had quite a tale to tell as she chatted to me by the fireside that evening. I asked her to identify her household journal and she was pleased to do so. I marked it as "Exhibit A" in my head; it was to be a wealth of information. I had the journal open on my knee as we talked. The Spencer crest hovered above us as Greta spoke in detail about the family she'd once served. Before I retired to bed, I could not resist writing down what she said as I did not want to forget what she told me. As I offered to pay for my drinks, I was more intrigued than ever about the legends of Hareton Hall and the fate of the Spencer children who lived there, more than thirty years ago…

**Chapter Two**

_**Wild Child **_

I read Greta's words as I rested on the hotel bed. They were written in a firm, definite hand:

_February 1978 (second entry) - we were not sure what country the child originated from. When Mr Spencer brought him back from his trip, I thought he'd finally gone mad, like his ancestors. I said, 'You were searching for fossils, not people!' But he just shrugged and said, 'Well, I saw him on the street and no one claimed him so I filled in the paperwork, paid a requisite sum and now here he is. All this had happened many months before the actual collection. Perhaps the child was originally from Europe or maybe as close as Liverpool? The foundling had papers to say he was ours, signed by a solicitor, no less. He didn't speak a word that first night. His bell bottom jeans and shoes were filthy and caked with mud from the walk along the driveway. Dirt splattered on my kitchen floor. I thought it was very inconsiderate of Mr Spencer not to have put clean clothes on him but grown men rarely think of small comforts. The dark haired, six-year-old person stared at me blankly and flinched when I tried to go anywhere near him. He kicked and scratched me so hard when I went to take his jacket (where I read the "instructions") that I honestly wondered how I'd cope looking after a child in such a…state. Harrison, almost eight years the child's senior, shoved the boy when he thought no one was looking and whispered to him before leaving the house, 'Who do you think you are? Invading my home like this… I'll make you pay, charity case!'_

_Kate, who had always been naughty (a fact belied by her pretty and innocent face), and never close to her much older brother or absent socialite mother, became attached to the new boy who we named Heath and resolved to raise as part of our family… _

It was all rather formal yet strangely personal.

I'd learnt, as a child, Heath Spencer had no language and apparently very little memory of his origins. He'd certainly made up for it judging by the detailed and sophisticated legal correspondence he'd addressed to me personally and which I had spread out on the desk in my room. Heath's letters addressed the various ownership and personal scandals involving both himself and his adopted relatives in almost forensic detail. Events happened a long time ago, but the origins and complex story of the properties in question, both Hareton Hall and The Grange, involved both the Spencer and Hunt families whose paperwork I now studied. Their generational feuds had been the talk of the firm, behind closed doors, of course.

According to family tradition, the Spencer children were sent away to school the year they turned twelve. However, the friendship between the two youngest children began much earlier, with a whisper. It was as if Kate was the first to know, although his adopted father must have suspected. There was something different about Heath.

The first night the child arrived, Kate wandered up to him when he was left alone in the kitchen and the little boy hissed at her, baring his tiny, white incisor fangs. Kate scowled then smiled and moved towards the small boy, rather than rejecting him. As if he were some exotic pet, she tried to pat his head. The boy, suddenly ashamed of his behaviour, covered his mouth. Heath had only recently learned how to recede his little fangs but sometimes they came out when he was frightened or stressed. Kate took his hand and led him upstairs.

When they were in the play room, she asked him to explain more. It was their secret, she told him. Kate loved to have secrets. The little boy didn't know what to tell her.

'I was born this way,' he whispered.

His biological father had kept notes but Mr Spencer wanted proof. After many secretive tests with a Vampire specialist on Harley Street it was explained to Mr Spencer that the child had a rare condition. There was a line of Spanish vampires from thousands of years ago that he possibly descended from through his mother. His blood type was unknown. What they did ascertain was that the child might grow out of his ways and never fully mature into a "blood sucker" as the specialist called his "breed". He also warned Mr Spencer, "Tell no one." Fearing society would reject his new son, Mr Spencer agreed.

Heath was told his cravings for blood would not reach full maturity until he did (at around eighteen) and in the meantime, he could be easily sustained with a diet high in protein and iron. He would keep ageing until then. As the venom in his blood was diluted, he would be given protection from sun. His image would appear in photographs and mirrors until it began to fade in adulthood. Kate's father had been assured by the vampire specialist it was completely safe for Heath to go to church and be around other children.

Mr Spencer was given a list of instructions similar to the ones the boy arrived with; that he had to be careful of the child's fair skin in the sun, (although a small amount wouldn't hurt as long as he took his daily supplements and wore a pendant protecting him from daylight). According to the notes, the child's mother was horrified the baby had crackled and almost burnt in the light. Heath had also tried to bite her when nursing. Finally, unable to cope, his mother had left him with Spanish nuns when he was just three months old. She had placed the protective amulet around the baby's neck along with a kiss as she broke down and put him in a basket outside the gates of the orphanage. As he grew, incorrigible, the child daily escaped and ran himself ragged along the Spanish streets. That was how Mr Spencer found him, pale and hungry for protein, like a wild kitten.

After the child arrived at Hareton Hall his incisors were painlessly filed down during regular check-ups at the family dentist and life resumed as normal. Life for Heath was a regular routine of vitamin taking, avoiding the sun, wearing his amulet (even in the bath) and craving roast dinners (his favourite). The child was deemed eccentric and wild but no one except Mr Spencer, Kate and Heath knew he was actually different. He had cravings for cooked, red meat, a desire to sleep half the day and stay up all night, but those were habits and slowly, Heath conformed to the ways of the household.

On one occasion, he had been caught off-guard when Kate's mother had walked in on the child playing with his train set and Heath, suddenly frightened, sensed an intruder. He turned round and hissed, before realizing the full impact of what he had done. His new mother fled from the room screaming, "He's not normal! He's just not normal!" Heath tried to apologize. The woman wouldn't listen. She packed her bags and wanted to take Kate with her; the little girl refused to go.

After Kate's mother left Hareton Hall, her father withdrew from the world. Mr Spencer retired from normal life and began to live in relative seclusion. He went for long walks during the day and took trips abroad, collecting plants to study and write about in his home office.

Growing up, Kate and Heath ran wild. As the years wore on, Mr Spencer became a hermit and slept often, worked in the garden and read the Bible fireside in the afternoons. One by one, the staff began to give notice, except the housekeeper Greta, who'd been with the family since she was sixteen. Greta had more to do than keep track of the wayward children who were soon expelled from the local primary school for "non-attendance, unruly behaviour" and (worst), "attempted biting," something Kate hotly denied as Heath looked on sheepishly.

Although Greta knew Heath was unusual, he'd managed not to reveal his secret to her. There had to be something wrong with him, Greta thought, but nothing that boarding school wouldn't fix. Besides, no one was perfect.

Although Mr Spencer felt especially partial to his youngest children, he began counting the days until they were old enough to be sent to Yardley Mansion School in Scotland, a Spencer family tradition. Perhaps they would learn something useful about discipline in such a prestigious establishment. After all, it would be nearly impossible to escape lessons there and Heath's condition seemed almost entirely under control, his penchant for roast dinners aside. But after all, who except vegetarians did not like a good roast?

When Heath grew stronger (useful against Harrison) and his inclinations grew rougher, he hid them and learned to control his desire to sometimes nip Kate on her leg or arm. In fact, he'd be horrified if she knew he once imagined tasting the pretty little vein in her wrist.

He'd educated himself and knew biting was wrong and never in a billion years would he wish to hurt the person he loved most in the world. Heath religiously took his supplements, wore his amulet and kept himself sustained with his favourite juice and meat. As he grew older, his cravings were not subsiding quite as easily.

Heath was closer to Kate than anyone. Apart from Kate's father, whom Heath regarded warmly, she was the only friend he'd ever had. Well, except for Greta, who, after a faltering start, grew to look upon Heath with great fondness. At first Heath didn't like Greta. She was always huffing and puffing in the kitchen about the extra work and ignored him when he asked lots of questions until he stopped talking altogether and then she said things like, "Has the cat got your tongue, young man?"

Harrison was at home for half-term holidays when the children started playing a particularly savage game of sardines. Heath had been caught running through the attic by Harrison and was beaten with a stick. Heath then (unsuccessfully) tried to drive his homemade stake into the older boy's leg. After witnessing Harrison's cruelty, Greta had become Heath's ally. She told Mr Spencer who reprimanded Harrison for picking on the smaller child and withdrew the older boy's financial privileges for a month. Harrison was angry; the boy was half his height but twice as strong.

'I'll get you back for this, charity case,' the older boy said as he again hit Heath when nobody else was about. There was enough force in that clip to make Heath's ear bleed. Heath bared his teeth, as he waited for the strength in his venom to take over. Kate swiped her elder brother and before long the three of them were wrestling, pushing, kicking and shoving each other until the little girl was almost squashed in the pile beneath. This just led the two boys to start fighting all over again. Heath bit Harrison on the wrist and spat out the taste just as quickly. Harrison called him a "little animal". Kate screamed so hard Greta had to race up the stairs to break them up.

Harrison would have been sent back to school to suffer the long weekend alone before term started but Greta noticed spots on all three children as she was sending them out of the room separately. They had developed chicken pox, which Harrison blamed on the local "state school scum" - Heath and his bratty little sister's school friends.

'Oh be quiet, Harrison!' Greta warned. 'I think it is far more likely that you carried the chicken pox back with you from that posh boys' school your father pays the earth for…'

Chastened, Harrison went back to bed moaning and demanding more sympathy. Both Harrison and Kate, spoiled before their mother left, demanded to be waited on hand and foot but not Heath. He had lain there, expecting very little sympathy (eyeing the specially delivered basket of blood oranges), sleeping most of the day and happy to gnaw on a chicken leg when it was given. Because he was a stoic little boy, Heath had won Greta over. She kept the best treats for him - fruit and sandwiches for his lunch (the boy always left the bread and ate the meat) - fussing over him like a young mother. This too, bred Harrison's resentment. Heath, for the first time in his young life, basked in the adoration the females of Hareton Hall gave him, and he grew into a tall, robust child whom Greta predicted would be, "a real lady killer one day".

At eight years old, that day hadn't quite arrived.

**Chapter Three**

_**Kate and Heath**_

After Mr and Mrs Spencer separated, Hareton Hall was never the same.__Mutual loneliness, secrets and headstrong natures had drawn Heath and Kate into an alliance. The days went by and as they grew together, the children craved freedom.

One cold day in November Kate and Heath lay side by side on Hampstead Heath making starfish in the snow. There was no sun as usual. Their arms and legs reached out forming windmills in the ice, so that their fingers almost touched.

'Kate?' the small boy asked as he sat up and wrapped his scarf around his neck and ears. He had dark hair and blue eyes and was as strikingly good looking as the girl, with her midnight curls and icy, reddened cheeks. Both of them had perfectly white teeth from their frequent trips to the dentist and Heath, in eighteen months, had learnt how to control his fangs, perfectly. Now that he was a little older, he never revealed them in public and they didn't need to be filed anymore.

'Yes,' she replied.

'I wish Harrison would stop picking on us.'

'Me too, he's…mean. Every time he comes home from school I dread it. He takes over the house and pinches me and locks me in my room when no one is about. Ever since mother…I can't say the words,' she said as she put her small hand to her mouth and Heath noticed a tear drying on her face. The recent abandonment of Kate by her mother had not overly concerned Heath, since the woman had had nothing to do with him on a daily basis and had shown little interest in his upkeep. But he understood how it felt to be left and reached out to commiserate with Kate.

That first night, after Mrs Spencer left, Kate and Heath had played with the train set until, eyes heavy, they fell asleep together on the floor. Greta had placed a pillow under each small head. Ever after, they slept near each other or on opposite sides of the wall. They made hand puppet shows in the moonlight on the walls of the play room and Heath always let Kate win at games.

'Don't cry,' Heath told Kate that day in the Hampstead meadow. 'You have to be strong. If you cry, your tears will turn to crystal in this weather and freeze on your face. Imagine how awful that would look. Yuck.'

Kate laughed. 'Perhaps it's for the best. You can save my crystal tears in a jar,' she joked.

'I don't like it when you cry,' Heath said, wiping the tears from her face.

Kate sat up and sniffed into her coat sleeve.

The boy took her mittened hand.

'Never cry again, Kate. We must be stronger than that, stronger than them.'

'Stronger than this?'

Kate rolled up the edge of her jeans to where her knee showed the beginnings of a scab and a remarkably deep bruise.

'It happened when Harrison kicked me because I wouldn't give him the riding whip father bought me for my birthday. I was afraid he'd whip Hero too much.'

To her surprise, Heath moved forward, leaned over her leg, touched the scab and moved closer, almost as if he was going to lick it.

'That's gross,' Kate said, 'you were going to kiss it better like Greta would. , I hate kisses, unless I'm the one giving them!' the girl announced, pulling her leg closer.

Heath looked very dejected and turned his face away.

Kate smiled; glad to have evoked such a strong reaction. She was 'quite the little exhibitionist', as Greta told her once.

'I'm only kidding! Gotcha…' Kate smiled.

Heath grudgingly turned to face her.

Kate covered her knee and changed the subject. 'I heard you playing guitar this morning. I can hear you from my room when I wake up. You play much better than Harrison.'

Heath beamed with pride. He wasn't used to hearing praise before he'd moved to The Hall. His only real problem was his adopted brother.

As if reading his thoughts, Kate said, 'Never mind, we'll get Harrison back one of these days. C'mon, I'll race you to the bus stop. I found some coins in Harrison's coat pocket when he was sleeping. Now we can go and buy sweeties.'

Heath didn't want to disappoint her with his unnatural lack of desire for sugary lollies.

Instead, Heath picked up a stick and used it to plough through the snow quickly. He withheld the urge, like small children sometimes have, to bash the flower beds because he was fairly sure Kate wouldn't approve. In this way, the children civilized and complimented one another's personalities.

'One day, when we're grown up, I'll take care of you, Kate,' he said.

'Silly, you take care of me already.'

'When we're grown up we'll get married.'

'Even sillier, we're brother and sister.'

'Not really. We're not actually related.'

The boy was annoyed his suggestion had not been taken seriously. He reached into his pocket and dragged out a remarkably fresh, although slightly crumpled, wildflower.

'I've been saving this all morning to give to you,' he said, handing her the daisy.

'Thank you,' she said, dismissively. Kate was already thinking about how easily they could avoid going to school and go straight to the sweet shop instead.

The boy picked up his brown leather satchel and headed to the bus stop, ignoring Kate as he walked past her. 'That will teach her a lesson,' he thought.

'Stop! Now you are being the silly one,' the girl said. 'We both know we're not really brother and sister.'

Heath smiled at Kate as she took his hand. The frozen winds played with their hair and both children forgot their conversation as they ran to stop the bus as it moved forward. The little boy was amazed at how fast he'd begun to run, almost merging in double quick time across the meadow. He had to wait at the bus stop for the girl to catch up.

**Chapter Four**

_**The Grange**_

It was so cold Greta noticed Kate's breath first as she entered the kitchen and placed her school bag on the floor. Heath dawdled behind his eye-catching counterpart. Kate was meticulous about her appearance. Her perfect curls lay in bunches behind her ears, tied in royal blue ribbons, the colours of her school. Her long socks were not rippled as other children's were. In fact, the uniform she wore was in good condition, unstained and nearly uncrushed. Greta looked at Kate again. She knew that after her mother had fled, literally fled the house one night to go gallivanting around Europe with a man she'd met in rehab, Kate had become unmanageable - but bunking school? She really didn't know what to do about this.

From the moment Kate had been born her Papa had indulged her every childish whim, much to the displeasure of her mother who worried that the child would be spoiled and difficult, like Harrison. Well, he was in boarding school where Kate would surely be sent soon, just as her older brother had been.

As for the "wild child", as Greta thought of him, he looked completely unkempt – shirt hanging out, hair unbrushed, knees scratched. He ran upstairs to Kate's bedroom (a converted ballroom) or to his own, the more modestly sized room opposite, to play video games and listen to music. The children would lounge around on the floor (strewn with the striped wrappers of Kate's favourite boiled sweets) in the afternoons. They ate and listened to music, hardly bothering to even attempt their homework.

Heath had long ago discovered the path around the side of the house, through the kitchen door where the new au pair was standing and peeling potatoes for dinner. He fled past their elderly gardener and crept inside the kitchen, thinking he might sneak past, but Greta was too quick. She grabbed him by the hands.

'Wait.'

'What Greta?'

'Don't say "what", I know what you've been doing, or rather not doing.'

'You just said "what".'

'That's not what I meant.'

'Said it again…'

'Oh, you little rascal!'

Heath sighed.

'What is it Greta?'

'You haven't been to school, have you? You and Kate have been gallivanting on the High Street. I can't believe you've not been detained by police! The meadow must be too freezing even for both of you, scamps. And look at that bruise on your leg, Kate.'

Kate moved behind the bench protectively. She didn't want Greta to have too much knowledge about the behind-the-scenes household warfare.

'If that's Harrison's doing, I told you to tell me if he ever tries to hit either of you again! He's twice your age. Honestly, I don't know what this family has come to ever since your mother left. I'll be calling social services next. Or they'll be calling me.'

'Oh don't do that Greta. I just knocked into something when I was out riding…at pony club.'

Heath looked at Kate quickly, knowing if they told on Harrison again, it would only make matters worse the next time he came home.

'I told you to tell me if that older brother of yours so much as raises his voice. He wouldn't dare do it in my presence. But that doesn't give either of you an excuse to avoid school. It's a good thing Harrison is going away to University. By then, he won't even be coming home for holidays…'

Heath and Kate were too quick. Greta talked on whilst they ate everything on the kitchen countertop behind her.

When Greta stopped talking, Kate took a bottle of fizzy drink and Heath grabbed a packet of Parma ham and they raced up the stairs, rejoicing in the time when their play room was empty of responsible adults (almost always). They had the whole ancient second floor to themselves in the afternoons. They could play their games or crawl outside, along the ledge that connected them to the ground and the road that led them to The Grange. Heath liked to go fishing in the stream and learned to make an open fire and cook the food on it. He was more and more interested in living in this natural, primal way, even at such a young age.

Annabelle and Edmund Hunt were the same age as Heath and Kate and their nearest neighbours. They were so stuck up neither Heath nor Kate had ever spoken to them. The blonde girl had poked her tongue out at Kate once during ballet lessons at the local church hall. Neither of the girls had spoken to each another since.

Kate and Heath lived in a world of their own - a world with a secret language and two rooms that adjoined each other with archaic light fittings, tall ceilings and furniture passed down through generations.There was a shabby opulence surrounding their secret society of two. Kate's room had a canopied bed with cream sheets and a blanket and an old fashioned cream lace doll.

On occasions when the neighbourhood children were invited to tea, the doll's house intrigued all of Kate's jealous little acquaintances (mainly from school). But Kate never let Heath catch her staring at the perfect dolls in their pristine world longingly. She knew he'd think envy beneath her.

As he grew older, he became tougher and more boisterous, wanting to be outside more than inside which, Greta reasoned, was only natural in an almost twelve-year old boy. Heath remembered little of his origins. It was as if he'd only ever existed in Kate's world, something he knew to be untrue. Yet Kate's father was the only father he remembered. Mr Spencer had been kind to him so he loved him as he loved Kate. But he knew her father was not his real father and that the "blood" running through his veins had some kind of magic in it. He felt different to other boys his age - happier roaming the woods than sitting in a classroom.

Harrison, in his final year of school, was still a problem. Once, when he was home from school for a weekend and Mr Spencer was at a business conference in Brussels, Greta was called away for the afternoon. Kate's older brother rounded up the children after she left and locked them together in the attic after inviting some of his older school friends round to party. Harrison thought it would be fun to terrify the "little kids". Neither Kate nor Heath rewarded him with their tears but there had been an all-out fight in the hallway after the children had somehow managed to break the lock. Harrison hadn't expected this but it was the last time he underestimated Heath's strength.

When Kate's father arrived home early, only to discover Heath and Kate amidst a mess of teen partying and chaos, he hit the roof. Mr Spencer packed Harrison off to the strictest boy's boarding school in the South of England to complete his finals. It was a place where corporal punishment was yet to be banned another reason for the older brother to harbour resentment against the smaller children. They were soon to be packed off to Scotland, to a co-educational school, strict but far less rigid than where Harrison was going.

It was summer by then; Mr Spencer had grown frail just as Heath and Kate grew stronger and taller.

Hampstead was quiet. It was as if the entire borough had gone on holiday. Heath had taken to staying outside but on one particular rainy and overcast day, Kate took an entire chicken and a jug of orange juice out of the fridge and set out lunch in the upstairs playroom.

They sat together, enjoying their meal that last Saturday before they were due to board the train to Scotland. Both Kate and Heath had grown more studious in preparation for boarding school. They even finished reading the required list of books, lying on their backs, in the window seats of the playroom. Kate smiled at Heath - sometimes she thought her father had brought Heath home to be her exclusive friend.

September arrived after an endless summer of reading and night swimming in the indoor pool. The day before they were due to leave for Scotland, bright sun shone through the bay windows. Heath, uncomfortable, pulled his amulet close to his chest. His eyes felt sensitive to the light.

'C'mon children,' Greta said, wanting to make their last day at Hareton Hall memorable. 'Rise and shine. It's a lovely day. Why don't we all take a picnic outside and go to Hampstead Heath? School doesn't start until Monday. C'mon, get dressed.'

The children were excited as they pulled on their shoes.

In the parklands, Greta spread the checked blanket out on the lavender field under an umbrella and the children hungrily heaped food on plates. Heath got bitten by ants but barely made a peep even when Greta soothed his calf with warm tea. The boy had never known such care and in all his young years, never seen a spread of such magnificence. He ate three pieces of turkey, a chicken leg, ham, a left over chop, a slice of bacon and a huge glass of orange juice. Kate and Greta drank tea and ate most of the cucumber sandwiches.

Afterwards, the children went running to the ponds to feed the ducks. As Greta lay reading a magazine, Kate and Heath discovered the hidden conservatory in a secluded part of the park. It was like being in another world, one far removed from London or Spain or family fighting or anywhere they had ever known - a glass palace with a covered in roof and shards of dappled, muted light (not enough to make Heath's skin burn). The building was filled with remarkable tropical trees and flowers growing in an adjusted temperature. There were even garden chairs to sit on and stare in wonderment at the magical surroundings. Both children thought the same thing; that they'd found a remarkable secret, a place where they could hide…and meet.

**Chapter Five**

_**Edmund and Annabelle**_

This secluded section of Hampstead Heath also led to a hidden laneway that attached Hareton Hall to The Grange. Kate and Heath ran down the lane and it brought them out in the garden of the neighbouring property. They laughed when they saw their neighbours, Edmund and Annabelle, in the distance. Viewed through the low, floor-length windows of the Grange, the Hunt siblings were taking private dancing lessons. Heath had never seen a ballet class and thought the whole thing was hysterically funny. Kate thought it was rather beautiful, but she would never admit that. The Grange was a world beyond billowing cream curtains where all seemed tranquil and safe. When the dance teacher tried to demonstrate with Edmund, how to partner, Heath literally fell on the ground laughing.

'Who's out there?' Edmund shouted, turning towards the window. Heath and Kate crouched out of sight, beneath the sill.

'Mind you keep your eyes up here while we are dancing,' the woman, wearing leg warmers and a tight hair bun, scolded him. Edmund reluctantly looked away. Annabelle glanced up when the teacher wasn't looking and noticed two children. The boy looked vaguely familiar to her, about the same age, running away from the house in the long grass. The girl tumbled in the heather and before long they were laughing and running, fading into the meadow.

If anyone had asked, Annabelle would have described them as the opposite of her and her brother; free. The blonde girl wished she could join them. Instead, her glacial, childish image, secured in tight ballet slippers and pink ribbons, her unsmiling yet lovely face, mocked her in the mirror.

That night, Heath lay awake under the covers of his bed, his school trunk packed, his uniforms tagged with his initials, perfectly starched and ironed. The summer wind outside howled through the trees and rain fell softly on the roof. He could see shadows of the branches outside. A breeze swept through the heath across the pond and along the heather fields. Then all he could hear were the traces of it, and in those traces, a whisper, and in that whisper, the sound of a tap at his door.

Kate came wandering into his room with her hair in curlers as she wanted to make a good "first day" impression at her new school.

'You look ridiculous,' Heath said. 'Go back to bed. You know Greta has warned you about not distracting me now that we are going to be in separate houses at our new school.'

Kate, hurt, turned and walked out of the room. Heath was sorry to have been so mean but how could he explain his issues to Kate? Lately, the desire to sink his teeth into her wrist was becoming stronger. He'd been taking his medication twice a day and was just about to take his evening dose when Kate arrived to tell him her hopes and dreams for the future. She'd gone back to her room, crawled upon her quilted bed and fallen asleep, listening to the storm rage outside her window.

Late, very late that night, the young girl woke to the sound of the screaming trees and the branches thrashing the window pane. She would not be rejected this time and opened the connecting door to find Heath fast asleep.

'Heath,' Kate whispered. 'Wake up.'

'What's wrong?' the boy said, crawling out from the sleeping bag he slept in for security – the one Greta had tried, with little success, to take away from him these past six years.

'I had a dream about us.'

'Shh. Go back to sleep, Kate.'

'I dreamt I was left outside in the rain, freezing in winter. I cut my arm on your window and it bled and hurt and I had to beg you to let me inside…'

Heath groaned. 'Don't say things like that Kate. I would never hurt you.' He moved uncomfortably, the venom sometimes pulsed more strongly in his blood at night, but he'd never told anyone this. 'Go back to sleep, Kate. It's almost morning. You know Greta doesn't like it when you come in here anymore…' He was due to take his morning vitamins, and then he'd be sure to feel normal for at least eight hours.

Heath rolled over. Kate hovered again and began to cry as she rocked his sleeping bag, forcing him to open his eyes.

'Heath, Heath, wake up.' He rolled over unwillingly. 'Promise me…promise me something.'

'Alright, I promise, now go back to sleep.'

'Promise me, if that ever happens, you'll let me in.'

'Heath smiled and shook his head sleepily, 'I promise. Now go back to bed.' Heath took his capsules from the bedside table and gulped them down in the morning light.

Kate crawled beside him, dragging her blanket around her, as he turned over. The girl gained comfort from her nightmare only when she managed to rest her head in the crook of the reluctant boy's shoulder.

**Chapter Six **

_**Katarina – Present Day**_

After a relatively comfortable sleep and the beginnings of an unusual story told to me by Greta Gardner as I sat by the fire in the owner's favourite chair, I was more than intrigued. I finally visited The Hall the next morning, cited the property, spoke briefly to the owner regarding matters of importance and took down the details required. I was then, surprisingly, invited to dinner at the pub the following week to finish up our business. As I drove out of the gravel driveway and slowly passed the pub, I saw that it was closed for the morning. I imagined the fireside warmly lit in the evening and the owner, who harboured his own secrets, sitting in my place.

That evening, Heath sat in his favourite armchair, reading the newspaper with more interest than he usually showed. He had the look of a burnt out rock star in his late twenties, still handsome and relatively young. He called his dog to heel and turned to sit at his chair near the fire. Greta was nowhere in sight; she'd gone home earlier to take care of her own children. A barman had taken her place.

Heath was sipping ale and still reading the newspaper when he heard a gaggle of shrieking teenagers who instantly irritated him. It was legal to drink at eighteen but he wondered why - girls dressed like tramps in denim shorts and black tights chugging down alcohol was a negative result. He should have imposed a dress code, he thought gruffly. Society had really gone downhill since the nineties. Then he remembered some of the looks of that era were pretty bad, too. He must be getting old, he thought, although no one would have known it. His face was harder but retained the handsome, boyish features of his youth. Recently, since turning thirty-nine, he'd felt quite ancient. Yet many of his business associates assumed he was much younger than he really was. There was no point in an explanation, revealing the secret of his youth.

He resigned to gruffly patting his dog and when he looked up the teenaged girls began joking around, making more noise than before. One of them, with long blonde hair and too much black mascara, waved at him. He turned away and stoked the fire. He wondered where their parents were and felt annoyed that his candle-lit lair was being infiltrated by the local riff raff. He looked back at his paper and shook his head.

His own son, annoyingly public school educated and hopelessly addicted to clubbing and drinking and smart-mouthing him, would no doubt have tried to chat them up. Heath had mostly, throughout his bizarre and unexpected life, been interested in people who at least seemed the same age as he really was. Since school, he'd felt people who hadn't lived as much of the journey as he had, had less to teach him. There was also the inevitable problem of his lack of ageing. People had started to notice. One of his old school acquaintances had asked him if he was on human growth hormones.

Hard living had taken its toll but Heath would never look older than thirty. His specialist told him that, realistically, he shouldn't expect to physically age more than twenty-six years (the age when his bones stopped growing and his venom fully matured). His sleeplessness kept him looking closer to thirty. The only thing that could finish him was a prolonged dose of sunlight or a stake through his heart, but agelessness, immortality was becoming a problem. His friends and associates looked a decade older. The longer he stayed in Hampstead, the more the whispers grew until they became openly hostile questions.

Heath flicked past the entertainment section in the paper, highlighting yet another vapid celebrity. His gaze then rested on the financial columns of the newspaper.

Normally these articles would have bored him but since the most recent financial crisis, he'd found them a lot more interesting. The companies he'd bought and discarded prior to 2008 had made him very rich, even richer than the acquisition of land and residential property. He was so wealthy that he only kept the Hampstead house out of sentiment. Just the thought of being nostalgic at his age, when some were just beginning family life, made him question his own sanity.

The candle on the low table near him flickered and his dog barked, unexpectedly, causing Heath to look up from his paper; what he saw made him catch his breath for the first time in years.

Kate's face.

The hair was lighter and straighter, but the face and body were the same. Her eyes were identical. Dark brown and large with long black lashes, hiding secrets he had only learnt once: same height, same face, same voice. His breath was taken away with a low sigh and he knew if he didn't speak to this woman… who was barely more than a girl, he would regret it forever. Still, it would take another drink to work up the courage.

The girl, in her long cream scarf looked up and matched his gaze. In the minute it took for Heath to decide whether to speak with her, the band played that song Kate loved….

'_It's my favourite,' Kate had said, laughing as she swapped earphones and grabbed Heath's hand in the clandestine meeting they'd had in the ten minutes before morning classes started. 'You can't imagine how much I love this song,' she added, dragging him through the school hall making a sunny spectacle of herself…wearing way too much eyeliner to get through the day without detention._

The girl was the image of Kate, yet not Kate. She ordered a fizzy drink but a pint of ale was placed in front of her. She glanced around the room, noting Heath's drink which had somehow been swapped with hers. The waiter was clearly not paying attention. Heath wondered if he'd finally lost his mind as the girl's stare intensified. She looked back at the barman. Oblivious to being studied, Kate's double wore a jaunty beret on her dark hair and had a colourful smile on her lips as her friends toasted her birthday.

'Happy eighteenth Katarina!' they yelled in unison.

Heath remembered the date. He was reminded every year.

In that moment, he hesitated to approach her and instead, glanced down at his paper. Moments later, as Heath read wearily beside the fire, a voice said, 'I think we've been given the wrong drink.'

Heath could not resist a question as he looked up at her shiny adolescent face and she replaced the cocktail glass in front of him with the ale.

'You're not, it can't be, Kate Spencer's daughter?'

'Kate? Oh, you mean my mother Kate?'

'Yes.'

'I suppose so. I'm Katarina Hunt. This is my birthday, obviously,' the girl said, glancing back at her friends who hovered near the bar.

'I know,' Heath said, surprised anyone would think he could forget such a thing.

'My father and I live just across the Heath. I've seen your photograph in the newspaper. You must be, my uncle?'

Her statement was so loaded Heath didn't know where to begin.

'Yes. You…you are my son's cousin.'

'My cousin… that's right… big family secret, no one speaks about it. None of the family even speaks to each other, clearly. How is it possible you don't look a day over thirty?'

'It's…the dark,' Heath replied.

She made a joke of it as only the young can. She was looming at the table now and had the audacity to pat his dog on its shaggy head. Heath's pet beamed from all her attention, a fact that Heath found mildly irritating.

'Do I… do I look like my mother?' the teenage girl said as the fire flickered.

And then it occurred to Heath, that instead of answering he could make her an offer she'd find difficult to refuse. After all, it was not too late and it was the girl's right to meet her cousin and see her mother's childhood home.

'Why don't you come back with me… to Hareton Hall? Her portrait remains on the wall. I'm headed there now. You can meet your cousin. There are also some photographs you might never have seen from…before. I'm sure your…father…won't mind.'

Katarina's eyes flashed and Heath saw a great deal of Kate's personality once again. It almost scared him, but not quite.

'Heel,' he said to his dog who'd started yapping excitedly (again) and was obviously beside himself at the smell of new company.

'Behave yourself,' Heath growled.

'Well, my friends…'

Katarina glanced back to the bar as the tall girl with blonde hair wandered over and gave Heath a bemused smile. Katarina introduced them to each other.

'Oh, so this is your uncle, Katty?' the girl asked in disbelief, as if to say, _yeah, right, he's way too young and hot._

'Kind of…we've only just met.'

Katarina's friend stifled a giggle as if she didn't believe her but either way, she didn't care. If Katty wanted to chat to this hot older man, that was her affair.

'Well, the night is young and so are we but we have to be going, early game tomorrow and all that. Are you coming with us Kat?'

At that moment Heath wore his most amiable expression.

Katarina knew she might only get this one chance to discover all she could about the people she'd only seen once or twice in old photographs.

The man in front of her was young and extremely handsome, yet so hard and cold. Something in her desired to visit his world, meet the cousin she'd never met as a child, see the house where her mother had been raised, learn the secret her family had kept for a generation.

'No,' Kate said. Then she looked at Heath and added, 'I'm coming with you.'

**Chapter Seven**

_**The Storm **_

His cravings had been less extreme this evening and he was fairly sure the parlour, where he kept his supply of freshly caught game, was locked. He did not wish this stranger to encounter an instant surprise. It would turn her off ever returning and Heath did not want to risk that just yet. He could only imagine the look of horror on her face if she was to discover his secret. They reached the gates through the midnight mist and Heath stopped the car with a jolt. He drove the vehicle fast and hard. He was not used to having guests. Heath had little thought for his passenger. Katarina arrived at the house looking white and surprised.

The girl shivered.

'Are you cold?'

'Yes.'

'Here, take this,' he said absently.

Heath pulled a red shawl out of the glove compartment and handed it to her.

'Who's?'

'It was your mother's,' he added.

Katarina didn't bother to ask what it was doing in his car.

The girl's fingers had practically frozen during the twenty minute drive that took them from icy country lane to mansion gates. Katarina had heard about this place only once during her childhood, had seen it from the heath but had never dared venture into its overrun grounds. They entered the hidden garden through the foggy, wrought iron gates that led to Hareton Hall.

After a few minutes of walking across slippery grounds, strange, open-mouthed statues greeted Katarina at the grand entrance.

Her father had never allowed her to speak of the Spencers and especially not her uncle. But recently, she and her cousin Linus had connected via the web and Katarina was more than a little intrigued about the mysterious 'other half' of her family. The outside lights came on as they walked over the gravel towards the front door which was overrun with creepers.

Her father would be concerned about her late night visit to The Hall but Katarina was fed up with being wrapped in egg shells. She pulled the red shawl round her shoulders and stuffed her curls into her woollen cap, dragging it over her ears.

'Quick,' Heath said, rubbing his hands. 'It's frozen out here. Be careful of the ice.'

She took his arm, surprised at how hard and strong the muscles felt. She hadn't expected her workaholic uncle to be so welcoming.

'I give the staff leave on weekends, can't stand them about me and I usually work on Saturdays anyway,' he added, amiably enough. _Rude, arrogant, reclusive_ were all words she had heard in connection with this man. So far, he was nothing like his press.

Apart from a few cobwebs at the side of the stone entrance, which was covered with climbing plants, the interior of the hall was miraculous; turning a simple switch lit up grand chandeliers that led to a parlour, kitchen and vast hall and dining room. There was a series of ancestral portraits lining the walls to the right of the entrance - one of her mother. The interiors were lush but tasteful.

Heath wandered into the kitchen after they'd walked the length of the entrance.

Katarina was agog. She was used to being the richest girl at her all-girls' school but she had never seen such opulence. Her hand brushed the entrance hall side table and wall

of mirrors as they walked towards the drawing room.

'Ah, I see Greta's left a note. Greta was my housekeeper and she used to look after your mother and me…when we were little. She was not much older than we were. Seems funny now,' he mused as he found the key to the cabinet.

'Greta locks it, she gets worried when I drink alone,' Heath said, 'but I know where she hides the key.'

Katarina looked around her.

'Another drink?' Heath asked.

'Yes,' Katarina said.

'Something stronger?'

'Yes, please.'

'Brandy?'

'Okay.'

'Brandy is best on cold winter nights,' Heath chuckled to himself, pouring her less than he normally would, though she had officially reached legal drinking age. Katarina wondered if he was over the limit but his hand was steady as he carried the decanter into the Edwardian drawing room. Drinking brandy in the evenings was as normal to Heath as breathing.

'Was this once…a ballroom?' Katarina asked as she unwound her red scarf with the graceful moves of a ballet dancer.

'It was not,' Heath said, sitting easily on the black leather sofa.

'It is definitely big enough.'

'Funny. I remember thinking that when I arrived here the first time. Actually, the ballroom was upstairs. For some reason, the children's rooms were built connecting to it, so we often heard dancing - "partying" as you'd put it - loud noises, fighting. He noticed the look of surprise on Kate's face.

'Where's Linus?'

'Not home yet, apparently. Probably at a dance club.'

'Oh. I met him once, online.'

'How modern,' Heath mused.

Heath checked his text as the wind started to howl and announce its presence in a storm. The rain trickled down slowly at first, like water on tin, then the storm gushed through the

open window, spraying its fury over the low table and threatening a vase of flowers. Katarina moved to hold it upright.

Heath's phone beeped, relaying a text.

'That's Linus. He won't be home for an hour or so; nice of him to let me know. To be honest Katarina, I thought you might be a…good influence on my son.'

Heath pulled the window down as far as it would go, shutting out most of the storm.

'Why? Is he out of control?' Katarina joked.

Heath turned to look at the girl squarely.

'He is spoiled, Katarina, and weak. I fear I may have indulged him.'

Katarina glanced at the photographs on the wall. She wasn't sure how to respond to his directness.

'But you have another…son?'

'Oh, that's Harrison's wife's brother, Hinton. He lives here and works in the evenings. You may have already met him. He studies at the same college,' Heath said, starting to feel the familiar tightness in his arms. He'd need to feed and take his medication soon.

Katarina had told Heath during the car trip all about where she studied.

'I've heard about him,' she said, reluctant to tell Heath about his nephew's reputation. The girl looked around and sighed as the storm and the darkness swamping the confines of The Hall seemed to embrace her. Heath was taken aback at the image she made in the half-light, so similar to the photographs he had of Kate, tucked away in his wardrobe. The need to take his vitamins and drink Magenta overcame Heath. He quickly excused himself and began to walk out of the room.

'I'll get some photographs,' he offered. 'Should keep you busy until Linus returns at some unearthly hour. I'm not even sure which club he's gone to but once he's out he doesn't come home until late. I could drive you back to The Grange, but to be honest, we should wait for the weather to clear.'

'Of course,' Katarina said. There was obviously no choice since storm warning, news flashes were being broadcast. Heath turned to leave the room and Katarina flicked the switch on the flat screen and turned on some music instead. Something old and classical, Katarina thought. The low lighting flashed once and then the power went completely: no television, no CD, no sound except the thrashing of water on trees.

'I'll get the candles,' Heath offered. 'I know where Greta keeps them,' he added.

'Okay.'

Kate froze. The house was way creepier in the dark.

Moments later, Heath came back with lamps for each of them.

'Old-fashioned, I know, but they work.'

It occurred to Heath that from outside the window any stranger could see him entertaining a young female. Of course, they'd have to make it past the vast security on the neighbouring property, which he also owned, to find this place. Still, the thought suddenly bothered him as he pulled the curtains. His intentions for this girl had nothing to do with forming any kind of connection with her. She was merely the final piece in the jigsaw puzzle that formed his bizarre life, if that's what it was called.

He was determined not to let her realize she was trapped. The girl must want to stay, he thought, at least for now. He wondered how to get her to agree, as he stopped in the kitchen and took his medication mixed with protein powder. Heath was able to drink a variety of blood but tonight he felt like 0-negative. He glanced out the window as he guzzled, noting the heaviness of the rain. The dark, vicious winters fuelled his fantasies… and his nightmares. When he finished drinking, he thought he should find the photographs first - distract the girl.

He'd heard the neighbours at the pub gossiping about Hareton Hall but their stories had never bothered him until now.

He ventured into Kate's old room in the half-light and opened the door to her wardrobe which was a converted spare room. Her things had barely been touched since they'd been packed away when Kate had left The Hall forever. He was tall and could easily reach the top shelf but her many shoes had been piled together. There was a loud crash as some folders tumbled down in front of him.

_Blast that boy_, he thought. Of course Hinton had been in here rummaging through their old school texts and files. People often wondered why he'd adopted Hinton from Harrison as a six year old, but he never liked to comment publicly on family matters. He didn't believe in filling the gossip columns with his motives and every minute detail of his family

life though people in cyberspace now did. It was bad enough that the many girlfriends he'd had over the years since his wife left him had talked about him publicly. Heath felt social networking sometimes degenerated into an excuse for public one-upmanship and he wanted no part of that. But then, he had more than most to hide.

He wondered what the boy could possibly have been looking for in the room that now housed a filing cabinet in the corner. He recalled a recent conversation with Greta as he rummaged…

'Let's be honest Heath, I'm fed up with your haphazard lifestyle. I promised to stay until the children were raised and they're grown up now…almost. They don't need me anymore and nor do you. Everything's under control.'

'Don't leave us, Greta.'

'That's not the point Heath. The place itself is just _filled _with ghosts. I don't mean literally, I mean from the past…and you should think about selling it…for your own good. I have my own children to raise, Heath. Move on. Get married again. Start anew. Put away the old ways, Heath. Revive yourself. That's my advice, for all the good it will do…'

Heath had looked at her as if she were mad. He'd even had the house redecorated just to please her and had converted the drawing room into a room of Edwardian taste bathed in blue light, a blue-seeming flame in the fireplace, candles and candelabras and lush crystal chandeliers. The lounge room had been updated from its 80's look to the modern era with sunken leather furniture and various reference journals and magazines lining the covered shelves. Heath had always refused to take down the portraits.

'I tell you Heath, living in the past is no good for anyone,' Greta had told him.

'You don't know the half,' he'd said dismissively as he walked down the stairs and out the door to the office building he worked in (and owned) deep in the City of London.

On this night, he turned up the paraffin lamp to find what he was seeking and reached to grasp it.

Meanwhile, Katarina, who felt a little like a trapped bird waiting out the storm which had begun in earnest, wandered over to the fire and started going through a pile of old CDs (there were even some old vinyl albums!) which lay around the edges of the brick. Her cousins mostly liked the same music although both of them seemed to be more into "house" than she was.

She was glad her father, a kind man, had taught her to appreciate all musical styles over the years even though he'd insisted on piano lessons to fill The Grange with the music that had left it, along with her mother. Katarina noticed the grand piano gathering dust in the corner and imagined her mother, Kate, once playing it.

Katarina remembered her mother's face from photographs. She had been so young when she had Katarina, only eighteen. Katarina glanced into the glass above the fire. The girl realised, as she rubbed the life back into her cold cheeks, that her mother had been the same age as she was now; the same age as her uncle would remember her.

Weary from the long day and warmed with brandy, Katarina slumped on the couch. It was a good thing she didn't need to go back to college tomorrow, or anywhere, really. The rain and hail began to pelt down forming sleet outside the window. She texted her father, so he wouldn't worry. There was no need to fill him in on the details. He'd assume she was with friends. Besides, it would be foolhardy to travel on the country roads just now, though the haunted interiors of this opulent palace made her feel like a trapped bird.

**Chapter Eight**

_**Winter Nights**_

Finally, Heath shone the torch on the dusty old shoe box he was looking for.

'This should satisfy her imagination,' he thought.

Inside lay a pile of photographs, taken pre-digitally, tied in a bundle with a red ribbon. The photographs were of the Spencers, as children, at the local primary school and playing together on Hampstead Heath. There were more taken at boarding school in Scotland. They had not been looked at or moved for almost twenty years and the top of the box was thick with dust, but other than that, the photographs were in remarkably good condition.

Heath rubbed his arms. He could anticipate need now, the need for his medication, the need for blood. Heath could feel the surge of want and desire in his venom. The tightness in his calves and wrists would move through his body as his strength seemed to decrease physically. He'd neglected his pint of blood this evening, which he always drank before eight pm, but then he'd never had visitors to distract him. He looked at the photograph in his hand.

'Your beautiful face,' Heath whispered, fingers tracing the paper outline of her jaw as he held the edge of the torch in his mouth He dropped it when he heard the dog bark and the girl cry out. He rushed down the stairs to the drawing room.

Rain streamed in through the broken window creating a fast-growing puddle of water in the drawing room. He walked over to block the window with a chest of drawers as the girl shrank into the corner of the wall…

'I… I went to close the shutter and someone tried to grab my hand.'

Heath paused.

'You must have imagined it Katarina. It was the wind and the rain. The winds are strong; it's so isolated out here. A noise sounds louder than it really is. Shadows seem like people. Now, calm yourself. Here, take a seat and have a sip of your drink. I'll make some tea.

Katarina sat on the couch, shocked and shaken.

'How did you do that? Move the chest so easily? Pull down the window as if it was as light as a feather?'

Heath finished his drink and paused.

'It's not as heavy as it looks'

The answer seemed to satisfy Katarina who continued, 'The fingers, they were so cold…her skin was…white. She wore a nightgown.'

'Honestly Katarina, you sound like you've read too many horror stories…'

'Suddenly, I feel like I'm living one.'

'Only suddenly?' Heath said sarcastically. 'You wouldn't be the first to say that. I'm thinking of selling it…. But nevertheless, it's not safe to leave now.'

'It's not safe to stay…'

'Nonsense…mind plays tricks in here. I'll take you home the minute the storm finishes or morning comes…whichever arrives first.'

Katarina sighed as Heath smiled and helped her to her feet. Her father had clearly exaggerated. No stranger could have been more welcoming.

Heath smiled again as he settled a mohair rug around the girl. Katarina accidentally touched his hand and was shocked. His palm was as cold as ice. He withdrew his hand quickly and rubbed his fingers together.

'Thank you,' Katarina said, pretending not to notice. Little did she know what an effort it was to play nice. Heath had managed to take a few more sips of blood in his bedroom before going to find the photos and was feeling somewhat revived. He had no attraction to this girl's blood. In any case, it was strange. He hadn't even thought of drinking her, especially as he was hungry. He'd trained himself to withhold when it came to people he liked or met as friends. Perhaps this came from being "mixed-race". Heath's specialist had once considered him that rarest of things; a vampire-human hybrid. Now, he felt more vampire than hybrid.

'I aim to please,' he said cheerily, aware how bland he sounded. He handed her the photograph album as he spoke. 'We open the grounds to visitors in the summer now that…my wife has left and the children have grown up. I usually move to the Southern Hemisphere and enjoy the winter in New Zealand (Heath wanted to add, _'It's cold there when it's hot here and there's an endless supply of animal protein and blood and no one asks any questions_.') Instead, he used the open house story as an excuse, adding, 'I was…opposed to it at first, but the visitors bring in extra revenue and I don't have to put up with them… and, it all goes to a good cause - my charity for abandoned children…'

Her uncle sat opposite her now, sipping his brandy as he discussed the plight of orphans.

How could a man who was involved in charitable causes be as bad as her father had said?

The phone rang. Heath picked up the receiver. He spoke curtly as Katarina poured over the photographs on her lap.

'That was Linus,' Heath added, after he hung up. 'He's been caught up in the West End and Hinton is working late at the studio. He goes to evening classes sometimes. I just got a text. They don't speak to me usually. Apparently, I spent too much of my energy on work when they were growing up and now they don't want to know me.' Heath rationalized this partial lie as easier than the truth.

Katarina looked intently at the photographs of two children dressed up formally for a family function in the grounds of Hareton Hall. They looked like twins apart from the fact that one was a little taller than the other.

'That's us, when I first came to live with the Spencers,' Heath said.

'You both look…so sweet,' Katarina said. 'I was wondering…why didn't my father like you?'

Heath paused, wondering how much to tell the girl.

'He didn't like me because he thought he was better than me…it's as simple as that.'

The girl shook her head incredulously. 'Oh…but my father would never…'

'It…was different then. Everything was different.'

Heath smiled. Katarina noticed his perfect, white teeth.

'It's late, we can continue our discussion at a later date,' Heath added, rising from his chair.

It bothered him slightly to have her in the house all night, not because he cared what anyone would think but… well, for reasons which had already become obvious. The house itself…was unreliable, strange… creepy. His desires were manageable. He was determined she would not discover his secret but the girl had made an accurate assessment of hidden forces that swirled through the hall like ghosts.

'When was this taken?' Katarina asked as Heath stood up.

The girl held the photograph of two children, the boy with an untucked shirt, messy hair and wayward striped tie, and the girl, standing up straight with knee high white socks and braids. The boater hat sat atop her perfectly styled hair.

Heath looked at the photo dismissively.

'First day of boarding school, Greta took us to the train. We each had trunks with our names engraved on them in gold.' Heath smiled at the memory.

'Really…I didn't know you and mother went to school together.'

'We didn't…not really. There was a boys' school and a girls' school. They shared the same playing fields.'

'Did you meet up in secret then?'

He suddenly tired of Katarina's constant questions and wanted someone else to distract her. He didn't expect her to be so smart, or to like her, even a little. Perhaps she had more of her mother in her than her father.

'Sometimes,' he said warily, 'Kate…your mother…came to my football games.'

The storm howled outside as if to prove a point. Heath walked heavily over to the bay windows and checked the locks from the inside to prevent the incessant rattle which shook the room in the dark. Usually, it drizzled here but tonight was different. Tonight reminded him of Scotland and the stormy night his band played in the school hall for the first time.

'I like this photograph,' Katarina said. 'I've never seen it before. Where did she get the outfit?'

Kate stood on the stairs of a ballroom in a beautiful, low-cut, pink satin drop-waisted dress wearing high heels, tassels on the knee length hem and a sequinned choker around her head. 'It was the school formal, I suppose they call it a "prom" on those American TV shows,' he said dismissively. 'The theme of the occasion was 1920s,' he warmed to the memory, 'The band I was in tried playing jazz, dressed as gangsters. We thought we were so cool. Your mother, Kate, was determined to be the centre of attention that night…' Heath looked at the photograph and smiled.

As if reading his thoughts, Katarina said, 'Wearing that dress, I bet she succeeded.'

**Chapter Nine**

_**Sixteen**_

Kate had gone to buy the dress on one of their rare Saturday mornings in Edinburgh. They were sixteen and Kate was determined to drag Heath into town with her to pick up the dress. He pretended not to care because he hated shopping but secretly enjoyed having Kate as his exclusive companion during their journey. He'd grown older and stronger in their years at boarding school. He was managing his condition, and no one except Kate had ever guessed.

The boy enjoyed any excuse for freedom outside the school grounds. He didn't see Kate at all during school hours. Although he'd hated being sent away at first, he found the regimented atmosphere of sports and lessons suited him more than he ever imagined it would. Being able to climb higher, jump faster, bat harder and kick longer in games gave him an edge and made him popular with other boys, but it wasn't them he wanted to impress most.

Heath pretended it was an imposition as the note was delivered to his class. He and Kate arranged to meet, catch the bus and have lunch in an old-fashioned tea room (Heath would have preferred lunch at the pub, obviously, but this compromise meant he'd just have to pick the meat off the sandwiches). Besides, to impress Kate, he wanted to go along with her wishes.

Edinburgh on Saturday morning in April was a jostling, architecturally spectacular city. The light was low, like London but the open wind made it pleasantly colder. Heath wished he could have driven the car he'd been saving to buy from the "business" he ran after lights out. All of the boys from his boarding house were involved in a betting game related to the school fixtures. Heath would have been suspended, or worse, if it was discovered they were using real money to bet. The game had been running for more than a year and Heath, as bookmaker, was making a handsome profit. With his winnings, Heath and Kate could have taken a car if he'd been allowed to drive but the school (stupid school that it was in relation to rules) forbade it.

Heath would have ignored the rule, like most of the other rules at the school, if it hadn't been so difficult to break without being noticed. He was careful not to draw too much attention to himself. Being taller, faster, smarter and better looking (according to Kate) than other boys, made this difficult. Because boys placed less value on looks and more on accomplishment, they didn't dislike him as much as they would have if they'd all been girls and one outshone the others. Really, his mates looked up to him in a way he was sure they wouldn't, if they knew the truth. He kept his medication hidden. He kept his drinking supplies (type O in secluded plastic packages from the blood bank) in a locked, private fridge that (as house captain) he had exclusive access to. The school nurse was told as little as possible. She thought Heath had a rare condition and relayed instructions from his doctor without telling anyone or asking too many questions.

Edinburgh wasn't home to him but he had grown fond of the city. He thought one day he and Kate might live there or maybe New York or London if she had a preference. Anywhere dark and cold but populated would be good. They both liked entertainment and crowds they could blend in to. He glanced at Kate sitting beside him on the bus. Neither of them had their head phones on, preferring each other's silences to music. He looked at her profile, her perfect features and warm smile, her fragile collarbones leading to her neck.

He tried to stop the thought. Yes, her smile was beautiful, though he'd never told Kate this but it was her body and soul he wanted to possess, just as she possessed his, in theory. The warmth of her skin, her blood - intangible and unknown - was a perfect mystery to him. He tried to avoid staring longingly at the tiny rippled vein above her shirt collar. Heath inched his hand across without looking at her. When she laced her warm fingers around his gloved ones, as they approached the main cobbled street, the venom in his veins pulsed.

Kate always asked after him in a whisper. _How was he feeling? Not too weak or strong? Not tired or sleepy? Weird? _(Always weird!) _Did he need her to go with him to see a specialist? No_.

Heath insisted he was as normal as possible. He wanted no fuss. They were discovering new treatments constantly and he was perfectly fine; he'd be okay…just like her. Only, he knew he was nothing like her. Not really - apart from their obvious physical resemblance which, creepily, made others assume a biological connection that didn't exist.

Kate smiled. She loved the fact that, lately, her attention seemed to make Heath nervous. It was strange and unexpected and thrilling; he'd agreed to come with her to pick up her dress. They came into town only when they got a leave pass, and she knew Heath disliked shops. There was no way he'd do this for just anyone, least of all Annabelle Hunt. To say Kate wasn't really fond of Annabelle was an understatement. Kate did not place huge value on female friendship and Annabelle had a job ahead of her trying to befriend Kate. Kate often outshone other girls her age and had been brought up around boys. Besides, Kate was still getting over the fact that the Hunts had been sent to the same boarding school. In any case, Kate felt she had little in common with other teenage girls. Many had tried to befriend her, briefly, only for Kate to discover their real desire was to become close to Heath.

It had taken Kate ages to get used to seeing the Hunts every day at school. She suspected it was harder for Heath who understandably harboured a grudge against them. Kate knew if they ever found out who… or what Heath really was, they'd be shocked. They might even shun him. Kate didn't want Heath to have to go through that. She didn't want to give the other girls and boys a chance to reject him. He was hers, Kate thought possessively as she linked her arm through his.

One day he would be fierce and fully grown. By then, there might not be laws discriminating against vampires. One day, Heath might be able to be honest about who he really was. But until then, it would be easier to stay in the shadows. Kate often read marginalized news items with titles like, _Blood Stocks Low_, and stories about the "threats on the London tube," and the "new hybrid species of humans" with "unidentifiable blood types", rumoured to exist. No one had ever come out as a hybrid…or a vampire, for fear of being ostracised.

The pair rounded the corner from the main street to the bus stop.

'C'mon,' Heath said, pulling Kate's hand. 'Let's get off here and walk the rest of the way.'

'Okay,' Kate replied. She wondered if he ever noticed how adoring she was in his company. Kate certainly hoped not. They had never kissed. Heath was worried it might get out of hand and he'd fang her before he controlled himself. He was not yet fully grown and might be so out of control he couldn't resist and Kate could end up missing a chunk out of her neck or worse.

Kate was secretive about her feelings for him or as secretive as she could be. How could he not notice that she worshipped every step he took, to a degree that both excited and scared her? She was glad to be wearing the jeans and new jumper she'd ordered from a London catalogue. She was dressed fashionably but Heath barely looked. He was too busy hungrily glancing into the eyes of strangers.

Together, they reached the shops in double quick time. These days, Heath seemed to almost merge through crowds. He could look into her eyes, and she would know what he wanted before he'd even said it. They were becoming twin souls.

'This is good,' Heath said. 'The people traffic isn't too dense. We can get this over with and then have some lunch before they call out the search and rescue dogs for us.'

Heath was always hungry.

'I thought you got…permission to come,' Kate said.

'No…ah, not exactly,' Heath said. He'd handed in an unfinished assignment and had been asked to stay back on Saturday and complete it. Heath liked to bend the rules and had climbed out the window. Kate shrugged, knowing the teachers liked him too much for him to ever get into serious trouble. She was secretly thrilled he'd risked a further detention for her.

Together, they rounded the corner of a laneway and walked past a fish and chip shop that sold deep fried fish, chicken and… chocolate bars?

'I've always wanted to try one of those,' Kate said as she walked into the boutique next door.

'Your every wish must be granted. Wait there,' he said.

Kate loved it when Heath said things like that, flattered her and made a joke of her vanity. He ran into the shop and ordered two battered treats; he returned minutes later as Kate wrapped tightly in her long coat, hovered outside the shop. Heath held two wrapped packages. He gave Kate the first one; a battered chocolate bar with soft caramel oozing in the centre, whilst he chomped on the other - deep fried chicken. Kate's coat bag was draped carefully over her arm as they sat in the bus shelter and ate hungrily.

'Mmm… yummy,' Kate said.

'Like I said, your every wish is my command.'

'Nothing but the best for me, hey Heath…' Kate joked.

'I thought that was what you wanted…' the boy said, suddenly worried he had misread her.

'Of course, this is one of the highlights of my sixteen years…'

'Mine too…' Heath said, smiling. Heath had the nicest smile Kate had ever seen, the thickest brown hair and the kindest eyes. His teeth were perfect, (although she missed his little fangs, retracted so long she hadn't seen them in years). Kate looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring at his mouth.

Moments later, Kate screamed as a bus sped by and the water in the gutter splashed them. In seconds, water pools swirled around their feet and the edges of their jeans were soaked in muddy rain.

'Oh well,' Kate said, 'I suppose they can be dry cleaned…'

Heath looked at her, the warmth of his smile suddenly making even the cold weather feel less inclement. He moved closer. Kate could nearly feel his breath. The boy opened up his coat, snug and larger than hers and enveloped her in its dry warmth. Rain tumbled down from the sky. Heath's body temperature these days was not cold but he always seemed to need an extra jumper.

'This is Edinburgh for you,' Heath said. 'Quick…'

They moved from the bus stop, which was largely uncovered, to the shelter of the shop front. In the fading afternoon sun, Kate leaned in and kissed Heath, softly on the mouth. Heath was surprised and soon they were covering each other in sweet, warm kisses.

At first, Heath was reluctant. After Kate kissed him he leaned back hesitantly. Heath managed to kiss Kate again without wanting to drain the blood from her neck and felt only mild discomfort in his veins.

The discomfort soon turned to bliss. Being around her for so many years made control possible…just; he'd taken his medication while he waited for her. This "control" was a revelation to him. They kissed again. Heath suddenly pushed her away, feeling the tiny pang of his extending incisors.

'I'm…sorry,' Kate said.

'It's…it's not your fault. I'm just…'

'I know,' Kate whispered, turning his face to hers.

The boy shyly reached his gloved hands under her coat. Heath pulled Kate closer to him - so close she felt, for a moment, unable to breath. The depth of their affection scared her. She lowered her arms into him, stayed locked in his embrace and just as quickly pushed him away.

'I…I didn't expect us to be so…'

'What?' Heath said, unsurprised by the extraordinary feelings he felt. Alarmed she might be rejecting him, he suddenly felt his incisors extending again and turned his face away, ashamed.

'Look at me,' Kate said. He retracted his fangs fully in that moment before doing so, proving to himself that control was completely possible.

'I don't want us to have any secrets. I was going to say…good. Together we are so…'

'Bad?' he smiled. Heath leaned in towards her as they waited for the downpour to stop. Wrapped in each other's arms, they were glad to miss the first bus back to school.

**Chapter Ten**

_**Hinton**_

'It's late… ' Heath said, changing the subject as Katarina took another sip of tea.

It was past midnight and the storm hadn't subsided.

'Do you mind if I stay the night?'

Heath was mildly surprised but glad he hadn't had to make the suggestion.

'Of course not, I don't know when or even if the boys will be home, but there are six guest rooms and Greta should be in at eight in the morning. Take your pick. I'm just going to stay here by the fire, go through a few papers. I have a business meeting in the City tomorrow. Even though it's Saturday, some of the foreign markets don't sleep.'

'Mmm…' Katarina said. Normally she would have felt odd staying in a stranger's house. Before it was her uncle's it had, after all, been her mother's. Katarina was surprised Heath had become so traditional. He'd once dreamed of being a rock star according to a letter her mother had written (the only one that she had been allowed to read and keep).

Katarina gazed at her mother's portrait in the hallway. How was it possible to look so similar to a person you didn't know?

'Thank you. I just texted my father and he thinks I'm staying with my friend - the girl you met in the pub.'

'Blonde one, long hair?'

'Yes, that one,' Kate regularly excused Stacey's flirtatious behaviour.

Heath nodded, making himself seem more amiable than he was. He tried to imagine he hadn't dreamed of sinking his teeth into the blonde girl's neck and draining her until she shuddered.

'I was wondering if I could sleep in my mother's old room?'

Heath hesitated, but he knew refusal would put her off guard.

'Well…um, I don't think Greta has the bed made up.'

'Which one is it?'

'First right, top of the stairs, but…' He could feel his muscles tightening; he needed his medication and perhaps some protein from the larder…

'That's okay; I'll just take this…' Katarina gestured to the checked mohair blanket that had been wrapped around her. Before Heath could utter another word, she said good night and was bounding half way up the creaking staircase, two steps at a time, revealing her youth.

It would be a long night, Heath thought, as he finished his pint of Magenta and took some extra capsules. The storm water pelted down on the sill in the drawing room as the lights suddenly flashed. The dog jumped up and howled. His ears were alert to the unfamiliar sound of music playing from Kate's old bedroom.

'Settle,' Heath warned.

The dog nuzzled his head under his paws and softly growled instead. He sensed a person approaching.

Outside, Hinton, Heath's adopted son, walked alone towards the house. He was grown now, hunched over his plastic-wrapped package. It was his latest completed canvas, carefully covered. Hinton had lived at Hareton Hall since his sister, Frances, had arrived with him in tow eighteen years ago. Now he had no family but Heath and Linus. The boy wore a blue scarf, brown coat and ski hat pulled down over his ears. He'd been in central London finishing his Art History class and then he'd stayed on to assist the tutor during a photography lesson. Hinton was one of the best students at Art College and made extra cash tutoring. The class had been developing film (in a dark room during their lesson in pre-digital camera work) and some students had then decided to go into the West End for drinks. Before he knew, it was almost daybreak.

The boy hated going home. His uncle was legally his adopted father but Hinton always called him Heath. Before Hinton went off to class, Heath had been in a surlier mood than usual and was always on at him about "making something of his life" and going to work in the City at the family firm. Hinton couldn't believe he expected so much of him when he expected absolutely nothing of his own son. Linus, who was blonde like his mother, did little else except socialize and run dance parties in abandoned fields.

Heath and Hinton had countless arguments about Hinton's "lack of direction." Hinton knew Heath liked to keep his family close by and didn't want either of his sons to leave home before they had finished studying. He was a difficult and unsociable parent but he was the only parent Hinton had since his own had died shortly after his birth. Franny had raised him until her desire to flee The Hall after Harrison's death overcame her. Hinton was in school then and The Hall became his holiday home. Greta, who had children of her own to care for, only came in three days a week now.

Heath rarely trusted new people enough to actually employ them so when staff left, they were not replaced. Over the years only Greta remained. Hinton couldn't really believe how he'd been trapped into his adopted father's lair, especially since Heath had never actually been demonstrative towards him during his childhood. But then, he'd never shown much love to his own son, either. Slowly, Hareton Hall had become his home. And it was all because of _her,_ Hinton thought. As he neared the house, the first picture to greet him in the hallway would be Kate Spencer's.

Hinton was sceptical about love partly because of the rumours that connected her to his adopted father. Besides, Hinton was nineteen and had a reputation to uphold. He enjoyed "playing the field" as Heath used to say in the old days. Since Art College had more female students than males, the odds were definitely in his favour. Even so, Hinton couldn't wait to get out of Hampstead for good. As he walked up the drive, along the old stone road, shivering in the early hours of the morning, he considered the merits of leaving London. The borough was freezing and the cab from the station would only take him so far along the icy road now that the storm was subsiding. He often took the bus. There was nowhere to park in central London anyway and he hated asking Heath for money.

**Chapter Eleven**

_**Remember **_

Hinton was surprised that the lights were still on in the drawing room as he entered the house. The dog had slept by the fire until everyone else had gone to sleep. Then, he'd done as usual and wandered upstairs to lie at the foot of his master's bed.

The boy had removed his coat; he wore the latest sneakers and low rise jeans. Hinton wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. He hoped Greta had left something since. He was very hungry after hours of clubbing in Soho. He was often photographed there with various girlfriends, but lately, his shallow existence had begun to bother him. Perhaps he was more like his adopted father than he thought. The family photographs that filled the drawing room told barely half the story of its dysfunction.

Hinton shook his head at the pictures on the wall as he climbed the stairs. It was funny to him that Heath could give himself airs and graces but no one knew where he came from either. Heath could use the title bestowed upon him for "services to the economy" but that didn't make him a Lord, not in Hinton's eyes. He couldn't have cared less about titles but he thought it almost funny that he had to practically ask permission to live in his own house when his sister had more rights to it than Heath (who only owned the house because of a swindle…) but that was another story.

The boy was aware there were two sides to the family history. In the first version, Heath had "saved" him as a child from a vicious beating by his drunkard brother-in-law, Harrison. The other was contained in an apologetic note from Harrison years later. Truth lay somewhere in between. One thing Hinton knew for sure; Heath cheated Harrison out of his own home during a game of high-stakes poker.

There are always more sides to a story but this was the particular side that Hinton chose to believe. Before the bet, papers had been signed. Heath, the foundling child, had risen to become the rightful owner of Hareton Hall. Hinton grimaced in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth and splashed his face. His image was hazy with condensation. He rubbed the mirror with a towel and wiped his face dry. Hinton turned off the light and walked quietly to his room. Heath's light was on. As usual Hinton didn't bother to say goodnight. Instead, he flopped on his own bed fully clothed.

Heath wasn't so bad. He'd been more of a father than Harrison and treated him more like a biological son than the father he'd never met. Besides, unless he won the annual Art Prize at his college, he had nowhere else to go.

Hinton had flicked on the television news in his bedroom and was chugging orange juice and eating what was left of some roasted chicken, when he heard a piercing screech that made him walk into the hallway.

Doors flung open and Heath's dog bounded out of the main bedroom towards a room with blazing light under the door; a room that had never been used since his teenage aunt had inhabited it more than twenty years ago.

A dark-haired girl flung open the door and stood on the landing, looking pale and frightened in the half light. Hinton Spencer froze on the spot.

'Who are you?'

'I'm… I'm Katarina Hunt. You must be…'

'Hinton, your cousin by marriage, for all intents and purposes. I was adopted. Are you okay?'

'I don't know… I think I will be. Someone tried to get into my room.'

The boy, mesmerized by her white skin and red lips, stared at her longer than was necessary, then apologized, adding, 'sorry…it's just that you are identical to my…adopted Aunt…' He gestured to Kate's picture on the wall.

'May I?' Hinton said.

'Yes…come in, please.' Kate said with desperation in her voice. Hinton checked the cupboards and behind the curtains, even under the bed.

'There's nothing in here…'

A slight breeze wafted through the room, seemingly from nowhere.

'I…I met your Uncle, um Heath and I wanted to come back to see some old photos and the house my mother grew up in. Then the storm set in so I asked if I could stay the night and…I don't think Heath wanted me to stay and someone tried to get into my room."

Hinton looked around.

'The door was shut when I came up.'

Almost speechless, Katarina whispered, 'not through the door, through the window.'

Hinton wandered past the bed and towards the upstairs bay window. It was unlocked and unopened. He pulled it up. They were on the upper floor. Below, lay a stone pathway. The flower beds were a metre away from the walls and the trees even farther. It would not have been possible for anyone to climb up.

'There is no one there now,' Hinton said. 'Are you sure you didn't have too much to drink?'

'Are you serious? I know what I saw.'

Outside, the wind started to pelt down onto the trees. In the distance, an icy storm began to howl again.

'Tell you what,' Hinton said, smiling, 'Why don't you come into my room? I'll take the floor, of course, and you'll be safe until morning when I drive you home.'

Katarina looked at him hesitantly. This wasn't the cousin she was supposed to meet, though she'd heard about him often enough at Art College. Hinton was known as a real ladies' man, a guy who failed his A-levels and only got into college because of the brilliance of his drawings and a scholarship. Everyone knew his family were loaded. Hinton was a year ahead of her, so they'd seen each other in the halls but never spoken. He'd dated more than his share of girls at the college, and dumped them just as quickly.

Katarina reluctantly dragged her checked blanket off the bed and pulled on her jeans over her underwear as Hinton pretended to look away.

'C'mon, then,' Katarina said, as the storm raged outside.

Hinton couldn't believe his luck. He started walking towards his room when he realised the girl had taken a wrong turn.

'I'm going to sleep in the drawing room,' Katarina said. 'Perhaps, you could come with me?' She was still pretty scared after the earlier incident, though she'd never admit it and Hinton had all but convinced her she was dreaming.

"Mmm, give up my bed for a hard couch?" For a minute she thought he was going to refuse.

'Why not?' he said with his most affable smile. 'We can pretend we're on a camping holiday.' Although her likeness to her mother threw him momentarily, Hinton was beginning to like this new cousin.

Heath was able to sleep through practically anything but lately he'd been woken up at all hours. He'd drunk three glasses of brandy before bed and fallen into an almost trancelike state reading the stock reports and going through some important files in relation to an upcoming merger. He'd been out hunting squirrels and rabbits again. He'd swiftly scaled the outside wall so no one would notice him coming back or leaving. Disgusted, he wiped the blood from his mouth, rinsed and brushed his teeth before bed.

Though he dimly heard the sound of a woman's scream it faded just as quickly and the only change in his vast, kingly bedroom was the blurry sight of his dog's ears standing up. He crawled under his duvet. Heath slept a few hours every night. After his maturity, at twenty-one, he hadn't slept at all. But recently, he'd started falling into a deep slumber in the early hours of the morning. He reached over for his newly prescribed elixir. There were many underground markets now and different products for both vampires and hybrids that hadn't been available to Heath in his youth. After he chugged some Magenta (a new elixir), he fell back into a deep sleep. The dog whimpered and snuggled at his feet like she always did when he woke.

In the dark he heard a woman's voice, clear as glass.

"Heath… Heath…" the girl whispered to him. Then, her hand reached over and shook him awake.

Dark hair fanned across his ear, irritating him and interrupting his dream, which was more than a dream. Heath opened his eyes and saw the perfect brown eyes of another and heard Kate's pleading voice as he reached out to touch her cheek.

'Heath,' the girl said. 'Forgive me for what I did. I've been away for eighteen years. Please come back to me, I have missed you. It's so cold out here…come back to me…come back…Let me in. I've been in the in-between for so long…'

**Chapter Twelve **

_**The Cottage**_

Heath disappeared most evenings at school. Kate knew he went hunting. He'd be back for band rehearsals, he had promised her. He'd been counselled by his doctor. Kate was sure he practised being 'safe', which meant only drinking wild animals and never more than he needed to survive. Magenta, drunk in the interim, ensured he was not tempted by humans; nor would he be, unless his vampiricism developed fully. This was a roll of the dice, according to his specialist. They wouldn't know if he was a full bloodsucker until he reached eighteen. In the meantime, his diet subsisted only of protein, citrus, Magenta and plasma delivered via special order from London once a week. Blood oranges were still his favourites.

Tomorrow night, the inter-school Battle of the Bands competition was to be held as part of the Sixth Form dance. Kate and a few others, including Annabelle Hunt, were factored into the front row as audience members or "fake fans", as Kate joked. Annabelle had made such an effort to be friends with Kate that the girls were now talking and Annabelle had hesitantly been accepted into Kate's circle of popular girls.

Those girls were sitting in the front row. The band hoped they wouldn't be sitting there long. Tonight, they wanted everyone in the room up dancing. Heath would be lying if he said he didn't like the fact that a lot of girls paid him attention. He was tall with dark hair and had a "mysterious" look about him. He'd heard Annabelle giggling and whispering about him to his friends once. He still disliked the Hunts but he enjoyed female attention in all its forms and it didn't pay to display open warfare towards Annabelle's older brother, Edmund. He'd tried that in his first year at boarding school and all his privileges had been withdrawn. He hadn't seen Kate in over a week.

There was only one girl whose opinion truly mattered to him and she sat front row centre as the band played her favourite cover. Afterwards, everyone rushed off to supper but Heath and Kate had plans.

As Heath packed away his guitar, the drummer, who fancied Kate, smiled at her.

'Did you like your song, Kate? We played it especially for you…'

Heath rolled his eyes, jealously.

'I more than enjoyed it,' Kate replied but she was looking straight at Heath when she spoke.

Heath had a good singing voice. He and his band were the coolest – some said most dangerous boys at school – by far. Although Kate was proud of Heath's ability to assimilate, it had begun to annoy her to see other girls paying Heath so much attention and the last thing she wanted to do was let him know how great he was. That would create too much of an ego problem.

'I mean, it was better than okay,' she covered.

'That was your song,' Heath said.

Kate couldn't help but smile. Heath knew what she liked so well.

Heath pretended not to care and smiled at Annabelle Hunt as she gathered her things, much to Kate's annoyance. Heath made sure Kate noticed how much Annabelle Hunt flirted with him. When he became bored with Annabelle's conversation mid-sentence, Heath turned from her and walked over to demand Kate's undivided attention. Kate paused and glanced into Heath's eyes. It was obvious to strangers they had a connection that went beyond words.

When they were alone, Kate tugged at Heath's shirt and gave him the lamb sandwich she'd made in the kitchen especially for him. They were having a roast today at the girl's school and Kate knew it was Heath's favourite. He thanked her, pulled off the lamb, wolfed it down then left the bread. Heath was always starving these days. It was as if none of the food he ate satisfied him.

'C'mon, I also bought us tea…' Kate had her flask and some more lamb and chicken wrapped in a satchel. Heath grimaced, but realised weak tea kept him hydrated. Kate was always trying to look after him, even though they'd be seeing each other less now that they were both studying for half-term finals.

'You really did rock, Heath,' she whispered, looking up at him when she said it. He tried not to beam so hard. He grew happy and less prideful under her gaze but he held back from saying what he wanted to say. Heath wanted to tell Kate Spencer how much he loved her but he couldn't. If he told her, he felt sure that she would torture him, use it against him and tease him more than she usually did. It was in her nature to be both a chameleon and contrite. He wouldn't say the words until he was sure she felt the same.

They agreed to meet at the cottage to study for their exams. They enjoyed meeting up, just to read and talk like they used to when they lived in London.

The cottage was a secret meeting place that had been used for decades by the students from both schools. Built into a stone wall that marked the outside gate of the shared sporting grounds, it could only be reached by running (or walking very quickly) far out of sight across the never ending playing fields and through a kind of dugout that led to an even more lush pasture.

The dwelling had been uninhabited for at least a decade. The hut had been built in the curve. High on the hill, it lay abandoned when no one had bothered to demolish it. Most of the students knew of its existence and it was the "go to" place for midnight feasts… and lover's meetings.

By the time Kate arrived, windswept and dishevelled, Heath had caught her up.

The interior of the cottage had recently been renovated by teenagers. There was evidence of junk food and discarded games, posters tagged on walls, various blankets and duvets rolled into a cupboard, and a well-used fireplace. It was the perfect spot for a winter picnic.

'Reminds me a little bit of Hampstead,' Kate said, looking out the window.

'Scotland reminds me of nothing in the South. It's…lonelier…wilder,' he said, rubbing his mouth when Kate couldn't see. He suddenly needed his incisors filed but he wasn't going to admit it. Only Heath could feel the sharp tips of the teeth inside his mouth, reminding him of his true nature. Kate placed the food on the red checked table cloth over the low coffee table as Heath lit the fire. The boy hungrily demolished the roast chicken from Kate's satchel as the girl looked on in amusement. She spread out the board game on the floor. The pair of them began playing Scrabble in their usual competitive way until Kate, bored with the game, messed up her side with the pieces tumbling across the floor amidst a cloud of laughter.

'This is such a boring game,' she said. 'I've never understood why I can't make up words… '

She leaned over towards him. Heath felt unexpectedly nervous, but tried to act cool.

'What sort of words?'

'Oh, you know. Words they don't teach us at school…' Kate smiled wickedly then changed the subject.

'I am so bored with classes but I can't wait to see your band perform tomorrow night. I miss Hampstead. I miss the glass house where we used to go… to hunt for food…and flowers…'

Kate loved flowers. She'd even given Heath some edible ones once, when he was little, which he'd duly tried to eat. Kate rolled onto her back and stared up at the low beamed roof. Heath looked bashful. The fire flickered, creating artistic shadows of the pair on the inside of the cottage.

'I think we should play a different game…' Kate said.

Heath looked at Kate incredulously, as he turned the page of his History text. He hadn't expected this.

Kate reached over and stroked his hair. He could still feel the touch of her fingers, moments later. Overwhelmed, he took her hand in his and used all of his willpower to stop himself pulling her to him and fanging her. He didn't want to mess things up with Kate before they were ready. Heath ached for her loveliness; she was part of him more than anything or anyone ever could be or would be. When he thought of his biological family, he was dismissive of them. He didn't remember their faces. Besides, they had abandoned him when they discovered he was a bloodsucking freak; just as his friends would probably turn on him, if they knew the truth.

He dropped his pen and changed the subject. 'What…what are your plans for next year?'

Kate laughed… 'Okay, we'll play your way. Let's see, if I wasn't going to be a famous painter, do you know what I'd be?'

'I don't,' Heath replied as she plaited her hair into a braid.

'Well, I love my horse so…I'd be a vet…and save the animals…'

'You'd have to study hard for that,' Heath said sarcastically, glancing back at the words on his page.

'What, don't you think I'm capable?'

Heath knew Kate could do anything she set her mind to, starting with gaining access to the school kitchen when he couldn't, but it wouldn't pay to compliment her right now. She was far more confident than he was.

'It's not that,' he hedged. 'I'm just not sure if you have the dedication,' he replied, turning his head so she couldn't see his smile.

'Oh, you…'

He reached over and caught her hand. Kate looked up at Heath with a devotion she quickly hid with words.

'Let me get closer to the fire. It's freezing in here…' Kate said.

Heath moved closer to her, closer to the flames which were weak, but turned and crackled forming a strong light.

Heath made the first move. He put his hand on Kate's hair and she held his gaze.

'Run away with me Kate.'

Kate laughed.

'When? Where to?'

'When we've finished school, after we turn eighteen. We could go to Prague or Paris or Spain.'

'What with?'

'We'll get jobs…'

'I can't just abandon everything…my family…'

'Apart from your father, they've abandoned us…

Kate considered this for a moment.

'I know. Harrison is…not to be trusted and mother lets him sign everything. He controls all her assets after she and father separated. She even signed half of the house into his name. Mother never did like responsibility.' Kate reached out to Heath and he leant over and kissed her wrist, softly, again.

Kate opened her eyes wide, suddenly seeing the future.

'Yes, let's do it. Let's go to Spain. I'll study art and design, though I once thought Paris might be the place for that. Never mind, I'm sure they have good design schools in Spain and you can…start a band… only we've no money, not a cent. It's just a fantasy, Heath. Ten minutes in another country without a roof over our heads and we'd be fighting all the time. And…'

'What?' He wanted her to say it but she wouldn't.

'…and liking each other less…'

'I could never like you less, Kate. There is no such possibility.'

'Why?'

'Because I love you.'

Kate liked it when he spoke like this, but it worried her. 'I know,' was all she said.

What she should have said, and what she later regretted not saying was that she also loved him. It was obvious. Her journals were testament to this. Each one covering a year in their lives together, written in schoolgirl writing, with train tickets and photographs taken on her polaroid when Heath was least expecting it, pasted into the pages. She kept the most recent one hidden under her bed. Her favourite photograph was one she took of Heath in his navy blue school blazer standing on the playing fields with a bemused look on his face, just as he realised she was the culprit – the school photo journalist.

Kate glanced longingly at Heath after he'd kissed her again. She looked into his perfect eyes and felt the hard cut of his arm muscles. This boy, soon to be a man, was everything to her. He was her whole life, the male version of herself. She knew to be wary, though - family neglect had taught her this; not to let him know her entire being was his to do with as he pleased. Kate sat up and glanced down at her shoe, resolving to change the subject.

Heath loved that about her - the two versions. In this version, Kate had fresh colour rising in her cheeks. He wanted to be closer to her, to touch the vein in her wrist, her neck, to kiss her lips, but he didn't dare move.

'I think you should take your studies more seriously, never mind about me. I could never love a man, who didn't know at least as much as me,' she joked as she packed up the chess pieces.

'Well, then, there are a great many men for you to love,' Heath replied with a raised eyebrow.

'Oh, you…' Kate threw one of the Scrabble pieces his way.

Heath laughed in return, loving that he could get to her so easily.

He had applied to various universities but he wasn't sure what he wanted. Beyond Kate's love, nothing. He'd gone through the motions, telling no one before now that he'd considered applying to Oxford. He'd organised teachers he knew would give him good references and because his marks were flawless, he had a reasonable chance of being accepted. He just had to pass the interviews. He'd studied every evening when he wasn't with Kate, and when he was, he studied late into the night. He wanted to achieve more than anyone he knew. More than anything, he wanted Kate to be proud of him.

They read some more and fell asleep beside the fire. When they woke the next morning, fully clothed, wrapped together under a pile of blankets, it was morning.

'C'mon,' Kate said, dusting off bread crumbs from her skirt, 'we don't want to miss chapel or they will notice and maybe stop me going to the gig tonight. Someone could report us…'

Heath rolled his eyes. 'You mean Hunt.'

'Really, he's not that bad. I think he wants to be your friend. Actually I think Annabelle is quite keen on you. You better be careful, Heath. Those secretive, silent girls are the worst with their little schoolgirl crushes…'

'Is that what you have on me?'

'Silly, I'm not the silent, secretive type,' Kate said.

It wasn't the answer Heath wanted to hear.

'Well, you never had to be.'

Heath turned with the coat and handed Kate her scarf.

'How can you joke like that Kate?'

'What? I'm just kidding.'

'How could you think there is anyone for me apart from you?'

'I…I think you like me too much. It will distract you from getting good marks in your finals.'

'Am I hearing things? Listen to yourself Kate. I don't "like" you too much. There is no "like" here.

Kate looked away, aware of the depth of her feelings for the handsome boy that stood opposite her. Over the past year, he'd grown a head taller than her. She had to look up in the morning half-light to meet his eyes. Again, she looked away.

'Look at me Kate.'

'I know most girls think you're hot.'

'Oh, so you're saying you don't?'

'Those girls don't know you, like I know you,' Kate said slowly. Before Kate was forced to answer, the door blew open as one of the younger students arrived, out of breath. 'Come quick,' he said, '… they're taking the register. They know someone broke into the kitchen last night and stole some chickens and the headmaster is going ballistic.'

Kate giggled while Heath grabbed their coats as they prepared to run. It would be wiser to attend roll call, or else it would be completely obvious they'd been out all night; and then Mr Spencer would be informed, or worse.

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**Linus**_

Katarina woke in the living room but she did not feel refreshed. The girl stepped quietly past her sleeping cousin and headed upstairs to retrieve her shoes. Much to her surprise, a shard of sunlight was shining through the floor length window of the room. The storm had subsided, leaving a wreck of mud and branches across the grounds of the estate. The girl pulled on her jumper and brushed her hair. The ancient brush looked like it had been passed down through many generations of the Spencer family. Katarina discovered some toothpaste in an old-fashioned bathroom. Upon scrutiny of her image in the mirror, she changed her mind and decided to take a shower. Katarina leaned in closely to the mirror, noticing the dark circles under her brown eyes, betraying her lack of sleep.

'Hello, how are you?'

The voice made her jump.

'You might have knocked.'

'Oh, no need to cover up. I've seen it all before,' Linus said breezily. 'I work in a theatre – stage management. You look as if you've seen a ghost.'

'Is that meant to be a joke?'

'Oh, you noticed it too…'

'What?'

'Last night, curtains moving, lights flickering, noises in the dark…' He made a strange horror movie noise and laughed.

'There was a woman…a stranger trying to get into my room…'

'Oh people have been saying stuff like that for years…'

'You're not going to tell me…'

'Oh, I'm here to tell you, it's all true. I'd never bring my friends home. Place is seriously haunted…'

Katarina didn't know if he was joking or not, nor did she know what to say in response to Linus' quick wit and even quicker turn of phrase. She decided she had no choice but to run with it. She smiled - at least it felt safer with another human being in the room.

'But enough of the gloom and doom, I'm interning in a theatre on the West End. I'll get you a ticket to come and see the latest show if you like. It's pretty good. I also organise dance parties on the weekends. Father does not approve, as you can imagine. What about you?'

'I like music and painting. I go to Art College and take photographs.'

'Cool.'

Linus held out his hand to Katarina, and she shook it.

A boy with what could only be described as wild hair and the appearance of an 80's punk, smiled back at her in the mirror. He messed his hair with his hands.

'So, do you like my new look?' Linus asked.

'It's…interesting but I never saw your old one.' Katarina replied.

'You must be Kat, Heath's niece, the one we've never met. I have the illustrious honour of being Heath's son. How is the old man?'

'Well, he's not very…old.'

'No, I know. But I'm guessing he's still pretty grumpy.' He pulled a face. 'I always try to get out of the house early. Father hates the fact that I go off to Brighton with my mates every weekend and can't stand the thought of working in his stuffy financial firm. But he was so young when he had me. Really, his idea of becoming a parent at this point in my life is a bit of a joke… Mind?' Linus took Kat's tube of toothpaste.

'I brought my own toothbrush,' Linus said reassuringly.

Katarina laughed.

'Oh, I'm going to write down my web page. We should stay in touch. Heath is sure to lose it at some point this morning, or he might already be out with the horses. In any case, you're going to want to run away from this house and never return…just like all the women in this family do.'

'Surely, they didn't all run away. Not all of them.'

'Yes, all of them,' the boy said regretfully.

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.'

Linus quickly changed the subject.

'Get dressed. We're meeting Hinton for breakfast; he likes to sketch in the cafe. Sometimes I think he's aiming to draw every nook and cranny in Hampstead. He and I don't really get on. So, it'll be quite funny to turn up at his favourite breakfast hangout with you in tow. He takes all his notes and paper to draw people there. He's obsessed with capturing their images. I'm sure I can't see any point in that…' Linus said breezily.

Linus talked on and it was hard not to like him, with his easy way and humorous take on the world.

Greta called upstairs, 'and what would you both like for breakfast?'

'Nothing darling,' Linus said theatrically. 'I'm taking my cousin out. You're welcome to join us,' he added.

'No Linus, I only popped in to drop off the groceries,' Greta said warily.

'Bring you back one of those lovely frosted buns from the French bakery for morning tea, then, eh?' Linus said, dragging Katarina down the stairs with him.

'Oh, have you said goodbye to your father?'

'Goodbye? We haven't said good morning. He's out with the horses. Tell him I'll see him tonight.'

Greta rolled her eyes.

'And with a bit of luck,' Linus said under his breath, 'he'll be asleep by nine pm.'

Katarina laughed.

'He was…quite the gentleman around me.'

'Oh, that's just because you don't know him, yet.'

'I get the feeling our families never wanted us to meet,' Katarina said as they walked down the sunny driveway, slippery from last night's hail storm.

'Here, take these.'

Linus handed Katarina a pair of gumboots. They both carried their shoes in their hands.

'The calm after the storm. C'mon, I know a shortcut,' Linus said enthusiastically.

'Near my house?'

'Something like that,' the boy said as they walked through the sunken garden, across the heath, towards The Grange and past the private, hidden glass conservatory that was tucked behind the Summer House.

'My father used to come here… with your mother, when they were children.'

'I know,' Katarina said. 'I'm reading her journal. I found it under the bed last night.'

Linus looked shocked. 'Oh, that must be another one,' he said, reaching for the diary.

'Not until I've read this one,' Katarina replied. 'I'm only on page eighteen…but sometimes I think this is the place she was happiest.'

Her cousin shrugged. 'Just up ahead, past the conservatory on our left, past the fancy house on the corner, is our café.'

Linus took Katarina's arm and she suddenly felt adopted by her cousin, like a new best friend.

Linus pulled a face as they removed their muddy boots at the door of the café and replaced them with their own shoes. 'There he is, sitting all sullen in the corner table. And in about ten seconds, Hinton will… look up.' As if on cue, that's what happened. Linus and Katarina laughed. Hinton didn't smile. He scowled and hastily gathered his sketches.

Hinton was just as unwelcoming and monosyllabic when they sat at the table with him. He'd already eaten a plate of bacon which Katarina thought was really unhealthy. Katarina ordered tea and poached eggs with toast and Linus ordered muesli with strawberries and yoghurt. A jug of blood orange juice was placed on the table and Hinton guzzled two glasses. He then proceeded to wolf down a second breakfast of eggs (he left the toast on the side) as he sketched the interior of the café, practically ignoring Linus and Katarina, who couldn't get over the difference in his personality from the previous night.

As he looked up briefly from his sketches, Hinton barely nodded. Nevertheless, Katarina, was in her element, surrounded by new family. Her two cousins seemed to be far more interested in themselves and their plans that her, but Katarina didn't mind. Hinton had an exhibition to prepare and Linus started chatting about the play he was stage managing. When the sun shone through the window, Hinton shifted from the direct light and began to get restless as he shuffled his papers. Katarina was keen to get back to her mother's diary, but was wary of appearing (unlike her cousins) rude. Besides, it felt nice to be amongst what were for all intents and purposes, her family.

As they finished their breakfasts and she read the paper, Katarina noticed Hinton peering at the words on her page. She looked up and sounded out the word, incandescent. Hinton looked away.

'Do you wear glasses, Hinton?'

'No,' Hinton replied taking offence through a mouthful of bacon. He chugged down the rest of his orange juice then began gulping his coffee. His hunger seemed to have no end.

'Oh, don't mind him Katarina. Hinton always wolfs down his food, don't you Hinton?' Linus said with a mocking smile.

Hinton raised an eyebrow, apparently used to his cousin's humour. Meanwhile it was obvious Hinton had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or couch as was the case the previous night. Katarina tried to make small talk but Hinton stopped drawing, folded his sketches and announced quietly that he had to go to college to work on his portfolio.

Katarina wanted to say, 'I'll come with you,' because she had planned to do the same, but she felt she didn't really know him well enough (except by reputation). From the way he was behaving it appeared he would not want her to accompany him. Hinton got up so quickly, he even left the scarf he was wearing, (her scarf, strangely enough), by her seat. He didn't want to give her an excuse to return to Hareton Hall.

After he left, Linus stirred his coffee as he spoke. "Oh, never mind him, Katarina. He's always more sociable in the evenings. Take no notice. I'm glad we met. Besides, it's obvious he likes you. I would too if we weren't related…' Linus smiled dramatically.

'Well, I suppose I should also be going…'

"Nonsense, you're coming with me to Portobello Road to buy new outfits before I go to my rehearsal. Then we're off to Camden town tomorrow and tomorrow night, in honour of having found you again, we're going to cook a feast and have some friends over for dinner. I have it on good authority that father will be out.'

Linus opened up the newspaper and sure enough, inside the lift out, there was a picture of Heath, in a dinner suit standing with his most recent girlfriend. She was also a company director and the daughter of a media mogul. Heath was announcing a charity ball that would be sponsored by the family company, _Heath & Sons,_ that evening.

'Mmm… sons,' Linus mused, 'how optimistic. I think that means me… and Hinton, though I don't think we were quite what father was expecting.'

Linus leaned in close 'You know Hinton can barely read, don't you? That's probably why he left suddenly.'

Katarina looked surprised. 'What? I thought there might be something wrong with his eyesight…'

'Oh, he sees clear as day; he can practically see in the dark. It's just that father was… well, he raised him to ride and take care of the animals. He was home schooled by Greta when we realised everyone was just going to make fun of him at regular school. It was terrible. Keep this to yourself. Father hates it when I talk about the family publicly but there's always been a lot of tension between us,' Linus stated matter-of-factly. 'I mean, he's not exactly thrilled with my choice of…career but at least I'm literate.'

Linus went beyond the insinuation that Hinton was not. 'Oh, he's clever. It's just that he has dyslexia and never really had it diagnosed properly and now… he's too embarrassed to ask for lessons.'

'Well, I was good at English at school. Maybe I could help him. He seems so clever. It's hard to believe he can't read…' Katarina said.

'Maybe. Hinton's unsociable. I've tried and he won't talk to me. We just don't really like each other, I suppose. I mean, we're not blood relations but we were raised together. Sometimes it's just the way things are…'

Katarina resolved in some way to help her adopted cousin as she sipped her tea, constantly entertained by quips from Linus.

When the waiter came and Linus, ever the gentleman, reached for the bill, Katarina couldn't resist.

'By the way, last night, I saw something… well, someone. It was a person, I'm sure of it. A woman tried to get into the room as I slept. I didn't see her face clearly in the dark but…'

'Is that why you screamed?'

'Yes… '

'Perhaps it was a nightmare. Being too much in father's company will do that to a person.' Linus replied, always the joker.

'No… I mean… a woman… I didn't see her face. I saw her hand reach through the window. It was so real, I could almost touch her fingers…'

Linus shivered. He let the silence hang between them for a moment until he spoke…

'It's her again.'

'Who?'

'C'mon, we'll talk outside.'

Linus offered to pay the bill and they walked out towards the tube station on Hampstead High Street.

'I'm not sure it's really my place to say and I'm not exactly sure what you saw but…' Linus glanced over at his cousin with a serious expression on his face…

'Go on…'

'Well, Father should have warned you… but it looks like it's up to me, as usual. Hareton Hall is a freak show.'

Katarina just looked at her cousin; she didn't know what to say. Of course, she hadn't believed in haunted houses before. But then, she had never confronted the possibility of their existence until last night. She suspected some more answers might be locked inside the cover of the diary she now kept. They changed trains. The underground was semi-empty this morning. When the tube stopped at Notting Hill, they walked to Linus' car. He'd parked it outside the station when he couldn't drive home the previous night.

'Jump in, we'll go to the markets then I'll drop you home. Oh, I almost forgot, there's an old school yearbook with empty pages at the back that your mother wrote in extensively. I'd been putting my stuff in storage, preparing to move into a flat in Bayswater but I took this by mistake from the wardrobe. I was going to put it back but I think you might like it. It's in the back seat. I found it a while ago and kept it, so it wouldn't be amongst the things you already have. You could add it to your… investigation. I was never terribly interested, to be honest, so I didn't bother reading it. I just flicked through the photos. Oh, but I wouldn't tell father. He's very secretive about that part of his life, the part he spent with… your mother.'

He reached in and handed Katarina the package.

Katarina took the album possessively and opened a page that contained letters stuck into opened envelopes. They were undated and the post stamp was unclear. Kate's childish handwriting but sophisticated language described a pre-holiday dance where Heath's band was due to perform. _I'm so excited for The Battle of the Bands, _was a sentence that stood out. Her mother had even stuck a small piece of the pink voile from her dress on the page as a keepsake. Katarina ran her fingers over the material. After the first ten pages, which were obviously written by her mother, there was another letter signed by Heath.

'Does your father know we have this?'

'I doubt it,' Linus said. 'All of this was so long ago. Most of it is undated but they must have been written over twenty years ago - way back in the nineties. Anyway, father has no idea what is in every nook and cranny of the house. Probably forgot he ever wrote this stuff. It's bizarre to read. Your mother must've stuck the letters in there. Hard to believe people actually _wrote_ letters back then…' Her cousin trailed off.

Katarina, finding them impossible to resist, stuffed the notes in her bag.

As Linus turned on the ignition, Katarina suddenly wished she was alone at The Grange to ponder her mother's words in detail.

**Chapter Fourteen **

_**Letters **_

_From Kate to Heath _

_Dearest Heath_

_It's the night after the dance and I've been told to pack and be ready to leave in an hour. No one will tell me why I'm wanted at The Hall. It may be something to do with Harrison. No one can find you. I think you must be out hunting. Father insists I am to return home on the next train. My bags are packed and I'm writing this to you in case you don't arrive in time to catch the train with me. I want you to know what I have never told you enough - how much I love you. I am leaving this under your door to read when you return. _

_I keep thinking of the events that led to me being separated from you and wanted to clear up the misunderstanding that occurred… I'm going back to the beginning…_

_Annabelle stopped by (such a swat) on her way from the school library, to show me her dress. Don't ask me how we've become friends but I suppose that's what you could call us, until tonight. Anyway, I'd been trying to get her to wear contacts for ages, and finally she'd agreed. It was like a new person greeted me at the door._

'_Kate, you look beautiful,' she said. I felt it was my turn to repay her compliment._

_We sat together at my dresser, me in my pink satin slip, bought especially to go with my dress for the occasion (I can't believe I'm writing this down!) to impress you later as we planned! Annabelle had draped my dressing gown over her clothes and was trying on my slippers. We painted our nails to match our dresses. Afterwards, I did Annabelle's makeup. I was quite thrilled to have made Belle my personal project as I felt her transformation on the surface would lead to a more profound transformation of her personality._

_I was so excited to see your band play in front of a real audience for the first time. I knew you'd rock the place out; you're so hot and talented, how could you be anything but amazing? And you were amazing, Heath. Don't ever let anyone make you feel different, just because you are. _

_When Annabelle emerged from my bathroom transformed in a cream and silver tasselled dress, I was surprised. Then I complimented my new friend._

'_Wow,' I said, 'you look completely amazing!'_

'_Do you think so? Do you think anyone will notice?'_

_By "anyone" I was pretty sure she meant you and I ignored the insinuation. _

'_Of course, you look beautiful Annabelle,' I said, and meant it._

_Annabelle smiled. She said she knew her pale, icy prettiness wouldn't last. 'I have a slim figure but I know I lack the… specialness that would make a boy like Heath, for example, sit up and take notice.'_

_I knew she wanted me to disagree, but I could never just let her think you were hers for the taking. Instead, I told her any guy would be lucky to have her. And I believed it, (unless that guy was you, of course). Annabelle was, or rather is, perfect girlfriend material, more perfect than me. She's perfectly boring, perfectly spoken and perfectly nice. How could you not like her Heath? Tell me what I saw never happened! Do you remember how much we hated the Hunts as children? How we used to laugh at them?_

_Of course, Edmund has always disliked you because you were braver than him – or so I thought. He called you "rough" but I know Annabelle secretly had a crush on you from the time we all met up at Hareton Hall during summer holidays and I put on a fashion show. Remember? _

_The fashion show began and ended with me showing off my new sports uniform. All of our school friends came and it was my idea to donate the door money to charity! Annabelle was invited to model also, but I went first. Edmund and Annabelle took their seats, open mouthed, on the floor. I'd set up the old ballroom like a theatre and forced you to grudgingly hold the curtains and shine the spotlight. You studied our neighbouring friends without hiding your irritation. You still hadn't forgiven their father for accusing you of harming their dog when we were small, and I don't blame you. You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but inside The Hall that day but this was a chance to "let bygones be bygones," as Greta once said._

'_May I take your coat, Annabelle?' I remember Greta asking. _

'_Yes, thank you very much,' the girl with milk skin answered. You must have found her vaguely pretty, I'm sure, even though you barely showed her any attention when she modelled and clapped loudly when I did. If both she and her brother hadn't irritated us so much with their bland, insipid privilege, perhaps we would all have been friends, earlier. But we always preferred being outside when we were children, didn't we? Playing on Hampstead Heath in the wind, remember?_

_Anyway, earlier tonight Annabelle continued to blabber on as we got ready. _

'_I honestly think Heath is the most handsome boy I've ever met.'_

_I couldn't disagree. I sometimes wonder if Annabelle's plan to befriend me had something to do with wanting to be near you. She stood up and hovered at the entrance to my room when she was nearly ready as if she wanted to share more unasked for information. _

_I turned around from my dressing table._

'_You look like… a princess,' she gasped. It was her turn to flatter me. Annabelle was still gawping at my darkly made up eyes, long gloves, low-cut dress and glitter eye shadow. 'Although I'm not sure the school…' _

'_Oh, I couldn't care less if I get a stupid demerit for wearing a revealing outfit…' I said. 'Don't look so shocked, Annabelle. Come over here and help me tease my hair. It is a 1960's theme after all!'_

'_You look…amazing,' she said as I applied my pale, pink lipstick. _

_It was eight in the evening and the Battle of the Bands Dance had been going for at least half an hour when we arrived. We stood at the top of the stairs surveying the scene we helped create, glitter ball and all. It was spectacular. I knew you were on last and your band was the only one I wanted to cheer for Heath. I thought the school hall, lit up with disco lights, looked amazing, didn't you? I took Annabelle's cream gloved hand in my pink gloved one as we casually walked down the staircase towards the cloak room and saw the whole school lit up with a banner that read Sixth Form Dance._

_When your band played, you guys were awesome. We clapped wildly so you would hear us but you looked straight past me and smiled at Annabelle! She smiled back! I happen to know you'd barely said more than two words to her in all your life, yet she was convinced you were in love with her after that. How could this be so, Heath? I am sorry for doubting you but as her obsession seemed to know no limits. I couldn't help but wonder if you had ever done anything at all to encourage her. _

_The lights were lowered as the heating and the energy in the room warmed and I noticed you pour something from a flask into your water bottle. I think, maybe, you had forgotten your Magenta. You looked hungry. _

_The band started playing again and you were amazing as I always knew you would be. Annabelle's face lit up and I would have started laughing if it wasn't so annoying. I suppose I just decided to fight fire with fire. _

_Soon I was surrounded by a group of boys and some of them started dancing and thrashing to the music and I was caught up in the throng of activity. Food was passed around, teachers stood back and hovered, talking amongst themselves, finally letting everyone dance without bothering to interrupt. _

_The set stopped and afterwards, I saw you attempt to move towards me as Annabelle headed in the opposite direction. You didn't push past her as I expected you to and I refused to show anyone I'd noticed. You looked embarrassed when she clutched your arm and told you how great you were but perhaps you had matured too much to be openly rude as you once might have been. I could barely hear your voices above the dance music but the conversation went something like this: _

'_Hi. The band was amazing,' Annabelle said. _

_You were flattered. I could tell by the careful way you smiled and said, 'Thanks Annabelle.' _

'_It reminds me of the music we played when Kate and I used to make up dances and modelling shows… remember when we lived next door to each other.'_

_How interesting, I thought, when Annabelle knew the dances and fashion shows were entirely directed by me._

'_Of course,' you said, 'how could I forget? You were always so creative,' I could not believe what I was hearing. I also couldn't believe any girl could be quite so…obvious or that you could flatter her so easily. You started packing your guitar in its case and you didn't even give me a second glance. _

_I admit I was occupied with a group of friends by this point but that was because I was so annoyed that you had all but ignored me. How could you, Heath? Finally, you glanced over at me but I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of realising that I'd noticed. I realise now, you were mad at me for not telling you I loved you in return in the cottage the day before. But did you have to pay me back by flirting with Annabelle? It worked. _

_In fact, I barely gave a second to look in your direction. The look on your face said it all. I admit, I was wondering if you were having second thoughts about us. It is true that you are from another world but that is not why I love you, I know that. I know that you would love me even if we'd been brought up together on the street. Games are for other people, Heath, not us. _

_You only have to be yourself with me and I love you completely, for that alone. You once told me you could do anything you wanted, be anyone you wanted and so could I. I am so much like you; I am you. You left too early from the dance, if you heard my reply to Edmund's question but not my true answer. Please come back to me. Save me from whatever fate has in store for me without you. If you are reading this, I am on the train alone and you did not return in time to come with me. I shall wait for you at Hareton Hall…almost as if, although separate, we are one. _

_I love you more than words can ever say._

_Yours forever,_

_Kate _

_The second letter was in Heath's handwriting, dated that night:_

_Dearest Kate_

_Love and loyalty forever, without one the other doesn't exist! How could you imagine otherwise? I have not stopped thinking about you since we parted tonight and I'm writing this now, to give to you in the morning since the house mistress said you could not see me tonight. I walked over to the girls' school to find you but the teachers wouldn't tell me where you had gone. Someone said you had been taken back to London and that because no one could locate me, I am to leave on the morning train. They won't tell me why either, just that I am wanted at home. _

_I feel the need to set things straight between us, since this is our first quarrel and I could not go to sleep angry – or go to sleep at all knowing you are on your way to Hareton Hall without me. I shall give this to you when I see you since it will be easier than spoken words. _

_I hope father is okay. You know I love him as if he were my own, and I have a strange feeling something is up from the way the school counsellor has been speaking to me with added empathy. No one will tell me anything. _

_I hope you at least decide to open this because I know you were angry with me last night. In light of what has happened, our quarrel seems pointless, so please, when you receive this, don't just throw it out the window. You know I never write letters, never, but I am making the exception for you, because you are special Kate and always will be, because I love you forever and you know I always will._

_I'm going to start at the beginning and I'm warning you, this letter is going to be more than a few pages long…_

_Okay, it's true that I was deeply embarrassed by Annabelle being "all over me" as you put it. In my defence, it was past eight and I hadn't been able to get to my supplies and I felt strangely weakened, my desire for blood stronger than ever. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but it is the truth. I won't go on about it but I was feeling less than my best which may have added to the perception that I was ignoring you. Remember Kate, it is hard to be the one saying "I love you," and not hearing those words in return. _

_As for the Band Battle, I think we were attracting a few fans (this bit is supposed to make you laugh!) but I admit Annabelle was very obvious tonight. Even our drummer noticed her behaviour. She credited you with her makeover! Perhaps you should have given her a make-under - just kidding. Yes, I smiled back at her as I glanced around the room, waiting for YOU who seemed to be ignoring me! We had agreed to meet outside after the set had finished, to continue the party…elsewhere. But the scout from London was here and the band wanted me to put in an appearance. After he left, Mr Jones was on the war path trying to round up the boys who spiked the punch …guess who? Annabelle was a decoy, someone to hide behind. I am ashamed to say that is why I went outside with her and this is what happened next…_

_Annabelle sipped her drink and tried to make conversation, thrilling lines such as:_

'_Do you have plans, Heath, for when school ends?'_

_I replied, 'yes,' wondering how long before it would be safe to go inside._

'_I don't… not really. Father wants me to apply for university. I thought I might like to go to Art College in London instead.'_

_I nodded, still waiting for you, feigning interest in her vapid conversation. I glanced through the glass doors and saw you and the moronic Edmund Hunt, dancing. Great choice if you wanted to make me jealous Kate, it worked._

_Annabelle looked up and said, 'My brother seems to have taken a shine to…your sister.'_

_I gulped my drink as one of the band made a secretive gesture in his direction indicating more alcohol would be forthcoming. _

'_She's… not my sister,' I said quickly (because you aren't!)_

'_No… I'm sorry, of course not, but you were raised together…' Annabelle added, more annoyingly than ever. _

'_Only until we came here…almost six years ago now,' I replied, setting the record straight. _

_Annabelle then changed the subject._

'_I thought I'd hate it here but sometimes I prefer the school to home. I like having friends of my own.'_

_(I'm not sure what you said to her that afternoon, Kate, but she was under the impression you were her new best friend!)_

_I admit, it's true, this next part makes me seem inconsiderate but I was bored by her conversation and looked around the room. I became even more annoyed by your flirty behaviour with rich boy Edmund. Annabelle was all…wobbly by then. I think she'd been drinking too much punch even though it was never designed for her! She kept putting her hand on my shoulder to steady herself and at one point I returned the gesture to hold her up!_

_I looked across the room and there you were, beautiful in your pink dress, glaring at me. You turned your head (to listen to Edmund's scintillating conversation, no doubt). _

_Annabelle said, 'Oh look, Kate's dress fans out in waves across the floor, in waves at her feet like the ocean…'_

_And at that moment, that's exactly where I wanted to be with you. As far away from that school and our families and all the people who ever knew us, because I only want you, Kate, forever. _

_Then, the music reached a fever pitch and Annabelle was jumping up and down and you were in the middle of the group and I was watching you and then you…fell down._

'_Oh,' Annabelle said, suddenly still, 'I hope Kate's okay.'_

_I moved towards you but Edmund Hunt got there first. _

_Annabelle looked at me all gaga by then. It's true that I glanced at her, but more like she was a consolation prize! This was just as you turned heads paying Edmund your undivided attention! (One of my teammates once walked in on the pair of them – brother and sister – trying to teach each other to dance in the student common room!) Honestly, Kate, we should never let either of them get between us. They are not worth it! (Jealous? Yes, at least I admit it!) I turned away as Edmund was helping you up. _

'_Do you want to go outside?' Annabelle asked me, unexpectedly. _

_What was I supposed to say? I suppose I could have declined and stormed off like a girl but I wanted to make you pay. I'm sorry, I know that love is patient and kind; I know that is what we are taught but you and I are different. Words are not enough. I just want to be with you…impatiently, all the time. And sometimes I want to suck the vein in your wrist but I hold back because I'm trying to be better than that for you Kate, I'm trying not to have to be what I was born to be. You make me try to be a better man. Tonight I was less than my best, I know…_

_The balcony was divided into sections for groups to talk and socialize. _

_I made sure rich boy saw me as you told Edmund you were okay while he helped you outside. I wanted to make you jealous so I put my arm around Annabelle then released her moments later. _

'_Wait here,' I told Annabelle, 'I'm going to get you some water. I'll be back in a moment.' That's when I heard you. Rich boy spoke first._

'_Are you sure you're okay?'_

'_Ah, I think it might be some kind of… minor sprain,' you said. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to… ?'_

'_No, I like the fresh air.'_

_I could hear your words clearly Kate as I went to get Annabelle's drink. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to your room? Or would you like me to get…your friend, the one you're always hanging out with,' Edmund said jealously I might add. _

'_That is not necessary, I do some things by myself you know… and we are not always together.' I could hear those words Kate! You spoke them!_

'_Well, certainly, people don't see you together but I've heard…' he went on._

'_Perhaps you listen to too much student gossip…' you sounded mortified that people might guess we were together!_

'_No…not at all,' Edmund said, 'I just thought you were with…'_

_I was standing outside the balcony tent by then, hidden from view, but once I heard the topic of conversation I couldn't resist pausing. Trust is fragile Kate! You need to explain the rest to me because I never stop loving you no matter what you do…you added these words: _

'_There is nothing to think… I'm my own person. I'm not with…anyone. I don't have a boyfriend…'_

_I admit I freaked out standing there in the shadows like a stranger to your life. Hadn't we just spent the morning together? Hadn't we been closer to each other than anyone else in this life? I wanted to teach you a lesson for being disloyal, so I stormed off through the crowd._

_By now you must know, Annabelle means nothing to me, nothing. YOU ARE MY LIFE KATE SPENCER._

_Later_

_Then I woke up this morning to hear your father had died suddenly. I am on the morning train to London, drinking my supply. Honestly, I feel completely lost and only want to see your face again. Our petty argument seems just that. He was the only father I ever knew, too, Kate. I never met a kinder more sincere man in my life. I'm so sorry, Kate. _

_I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER. _

_I will be at Hareton Hall as soon as possible _

_Hxxxxxxxxxxxx. (and here the page was smothered in at least a dozen kisses and hugs and what looked like the smudge of tears…) _

I read over the childish letters in the dark. It seemed plausible that Kate and Heath were separated as part of a plan Harrison was forming.

Soon after, Kate was sent to Finishing School in Switzerland, where she stayed for three months until her eighteenth birthday. Both sets of school fees were cancelled and Heath was thrown out of the house, onto the street, his inheritance "absorbed" in the family trust and expenditure – justified by Harrison's appointment as the executor of the family estate. Neither of the younger Spencers appears to have completed secondary school in Scotland. A final letter from Kate (written in Switzerland) filled me in on some of the missing details.

_Dear Heath _

_By now you will know where I am and why and I wait patiently to join you. _

_How typical of Harrison to have tricked the school into separating us, and how alone and terrible I feel without you now. I wait for you and please know everything that happened at the dance is ancient history; it all means nothing in light of recent events. I still cannot believe father is gone. _

_Greta is taking this with her and has promised to give it only to you. Harrison, as you know, confined me to my room before I was packed off to Switzerland. He locked the door and barred the window after he dragged me from your path and would not let me leave this room. He says my place is with my family and not with "a freak". But you are my family Heath, and if that makes us freaks together, so be it. We will meet as planned and Harrison will never separate us again. _

_You won't believe what he has done! His new girlfriend, Frances (we call her Franny and so far she is a good natured sort of person, trying to bring me food and drink when Harrison is not about) is soon to be his wife! The little boy (a mere toddler) is her brother. His name is Hinton. They allowed him into my room to give me company before I was packed off to Finishing School. How kind of them. He too is a good natured little boy, with a face like a cherub. He likes to play with his toys and offers them to me to "make me better". I hate to imagine how Harrison's influence could change him since he is such a sweet child. I have tried to warn Frances but she is so "in love" she refuses to listen, and so far, Harrison has only presented his nicer side. He insists I am in my room for my own good and I barely have the energy to resist any more. With you gone, I have nowhere to turn. I have enclosed half the money we saved together in my piggy bank as children. I'd hidden it and you will need it more than me. Please don't send it back! _

_This will be shorter than the last letter. I just want to clear up what happened at the stupid Battle of the Bands and we can talk when I finally see you. Greta has promised to send you the details and I know you will contact her; I just know it. _

_Our school days seem pretty aimless in light of what has happened. Father died in my arms just before you arrived home. It was horrible, Heath. I miss him so much. I think he was our only ally. _

_Back to our stupid misunderstanding; I know my thoughtless behaviour hurt you more than any beating or withdrawal of privileges we ever received from Harrison, just as yours did me; so not worth it. I love you, too, more than anything or anyone else. You should know, before we make plans, that this is what happened after you left the ball room that night. _

_I told Edmund that I couldn't ever go out with him. He asked me if I was "attached" to anyone (which I found old fashioned and funny although I hardly imagine myself laughing ever again right now.)_

'_I can't go out with you, Edmund,' I said._

'_But, you just told me you are not attached to anyone,' he replied._

_**That's because I'm… more than attached**__. Those were my exact words, but you didn't stay in the room long enough to hear them. _

_I added, 'It is true that you don't see Heath and I together… in public or at school much but… we are more__** than attached**__. We are together in secret. We plan to move to London next year but of course my older brother would never approve so we just keep it to ourselves. It is true we are young but we are like, __**the same person. **__I could never imagine being without Heath.' And blah blah blah I went on, embarrassed to be relaying those words now, but they are TRUE. _

'_I see,' Edmund replied. Pale and dorky though he is; I think he meant us both well. 'I knew you were close… Anyway, I'm going up to Cambridge next year….' And after I had assured him there was no hope we would ever be more than friends, Edmund looked away, hurt. So please don't hate him for liking me because I think he is actually a good person. He seemed to understand and asked if we could remain friends. I didn't know what else to say so I said "yes", but truly, it all meant nothing. I tried to get up but the pain in my ankle made me hesitate. I looked for you but you were NOWHERE. That night I dreamt that we were parted and I begged you to come back to me. _

_Tell me this isn't true! _

_COME BACK TO ME NOW HEATH. I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER AND EVER._

_Love Kate (sealed with a thousand kisses)_

**Chapter Fifteen**

_**Shadows **_

And here I sat, the daughter of such a woman. I was quite surprised, I admit, at the evident depth of affection between her and Heath and quite annoyed at how meanly Heath had spoken of my loyal, kind and loving father. It was hard to get over the disloyalty in my mother's letters, but I tried to justify my reading of them in the name of "research".

Greta walked into the kitchen light and she relayed to me the story of Kate and Heath's parting. As we sipped tea and I waited for my cousin Hinton to emerge so we could go and work at the studio like we planned.

This is what Greta told me:

'When Heath arrived home he was ignored by Harrison who had brought his new girlfriend with him. Heath was just counting down the days until he and Kate could go back to school. Harrison had other plans. He'd withdrawn the fees for both children for their final semester of school. They had no say in the matter.

Heath couldn't have cared less about boarding without Kate close by and Kate had never been academic. When we arrived back at The Hall, Heath discovered Kate in a heap, on the couch, crying over her father's old photographs. When I went in to take them some tea, they were huddled together so close; I thought no one would ever tear them apart. Heath was also distraught. Your grandfather had been the only adult (apart from me) to love him and take care of him.

When the news had arrived, the worst, Kate and Heath were left alone. Heath hugged Kate in the child's playroom while she wept and he unsuccessfully tried to hold back tears for the only man who had ever been a parent to him.

After, we all sat in the old playroom as the news from a television blared on in the background giving us all a good excuse not to talk. Repeat images of political unrest in other parts of the world were on replay in a documentary. It was an irony not lost on any of us, for it was obvious, our world within Hareton Hall was crumbling.

I agreed to stay on to try to protect the youngster Hinton and Harrison was seemingly civil to Kate throughout that week. He had more important plans to occupy his mind. We were stunned to discover he intended to install his new girlfriend Frances, as his wife, (they married at a registry office the following Saturday).

At first, Franny was warm towards Kate and barely civil to Heath, (taking her cue from Harrison). Once she'd married Harrison, she lost interest in everyone else in the house, including her younger brother, and took to going on long walks across the heath. Hareton Hall has that strange effect on people or maybe it was the revelation that her new husband wasn't all he seemed. Sometimes I'd hear him yelling at her in the night and would place my hands over young Hinton's ears. I thought it a blessing that Kate was to be sent away but it was mean of Harrison to cancel their fees for the final term.

Kate's older brother had made plans to conquer and divide the two younger "shareholders" as he thought of them. He'd never really been able to control Kate. Although there had been a vast inheritance left to both the younger Spencers, Harrison made sure that Heath's share was written off to various expenses. Heath and Kate were still minors, after all. The shares that remained were left to be invested in the family trust and managed by Harrison on behalf of the two teenagers.

Harrison insisted that Heath make his room in the basement and groom the horses every morning. Heath did so, happily in fact, preferring to be outside rather than anywhere near Harrison. I asked when Heath would be enrolled back in school but Harrison seemed to think that was nothing to be concerned about. I feared the worst; that he intended to throw Heath on the street the moment he turned eighteen the following week.

Both Heath and Kate were not unaware of the plot against them as they took the horses to be exercised on the heath that last cold, autumn day when Heath was still in my care. Kate was in a near dreamlike state with her grief having marked a serious return to study as nearly pointless. 'After all, how many artists need an academic education, Greta?' she asked me. Really, Kate was delusional.

Instinctively, Heath, who had never trusted Harrison, knew there would be changes at Hareton Hall and he suspected his plans for university would be delayed in some way without access to the necessary funds. He needed money to hire a lawyer and by the time he had that he knew the funds would be siphoned off. He just hung on, taking his medication as scheduled, accessing his secret supplies to normalize his blood, and all the time wanting to rip Harrison to shreds. He hung on for Kate, waiting for her to turn eighteen so they could run away and never be under the control of Harrison again. If they ran off too soon, Harrison would inform the authorities that he suspected Heath was a vampire. Though not illegal, it would officially be a mark against him for life. There was so much discrimination. For example, vampires had to get permission to hold certain jobs and human-vampire marriage was discouraged.

Meanwhile, Harrison had cancelled the cheques Heath had sent to apply for university and it was too late for him to enrol to finish the school term at the local comprehensive. A scholarship was out of the question until the following year. Heath turned eighteen in a matter of days and Harrison would no longer be his court appointed guardian. Kate and Heath tried not to think about the family tensions as they rode together that day.

Kate had started eating again, having lost her appetite for a week and I had wisely packed the picnic basket with a lunch of their favourite things. Kate had put in a bottle of apple cider for after and her favourite mohair red checked blanket. Harrison was busy planning his next party for his new wife and to impress future investors in the various businesses he had purchased. He'd also taken to drinking in the afternoons (not a good sign). Kate's older brother was only too happy not to be bothered with the younger members of the household as long as they were out of his sight.

Hampstead Heath was dotted with people on that autumnal Saturday; mother's pushing babies in prams, small children running and playing games with kites, picnicking groups. These appeared to be fully functioning families, Kate was thinking, unlike hers. The pergola offered beautiful views across Hampstead and there were artists sketching near The Hill Garden as Kate and Heath strolled. They walked with their horses for about thirty minutes to reach the hidden garden and Glass House. Near the fish pond at the far end of a small alcove, there was a lovers' bench with panoramic views of North London.

They placed a blanket on the ground after they'd found water for the animals. Kate placed the food in the centre, while they talked and enjoyed the spread of chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, tea and crusty French bread that lay before them. Well, Kate did. Heath only ate the chicken – all of it. It was to be their last carefree day. As if to recognize that fact the sun hid in shadows behind the clouds as they talked, finally spitting down in tiny drops of rain. They had to quickly pack up all their belongings and head for the hidden, glass arboretum. As children, escorted to a night fair, they had once seen the stars in the evening sky from the same spot.

'Do you forgive me for what I said, the night of the dance?' Kate asked. 'You should have stayed to hear the rest.'

'Of course, Kate, tell me again,' Heath said as he brushed her hair with his fingers.

'Well,' Kate said, sitting up. 'I added, after you left, that actually, you are rather…strange looking and maybe not quite my type…'

Heath laughed, looked irritated, then despondent but as he got up Kate pleaded with him, 'I'm joking. Look, I found our initials that we marked into the tree when we were children. Here they are, bigger than before, clear as if they were carved yesterday.'

Sure enough, the initials of the pair were hidden at the base of the tree in a place only they knew to look. The letters were a legacy of their youth.

'You see, I knew even then. There is no one else for me and it is true. In this world or any other, I have known we were meant for each other, forever.'

Kate placed her finger to his lips.

'We don't know what will happen, yet. We'll find out tomorrow.'

Tomorrow was Heath's eighteenth birthday. Kate's was three months later. After that, they planned to run away together and get married. They thought by making it all official, it would be difficult for Harrison to separate them. As the rain spat down upon the glass roof, Heath leant over the seat they shared and kissed Kate, pulling her closer.

'Kate Spencer, will you marry me?'

'Yes,' she said, confidently, after they kissed.

'I don't have the ring with me. It's being made…so this is the informal proposal part…' They'd been whispering about getting married for weeks. Once they were of age, they could sever all ties with Harrison and make their own decisions. Kate had already spoken to the vicar who had known her since childhood.

Heath and Kate had been planning to elope for weeks but recent family events had hastened the proceedings. Kate put her arms around him and they hugged. Together, they fell onto the ground, laughing. The girl rolled on top of him; she was very strong and athletic and had him in a gridlock, on his back as he tried to shake her off, all the time trying to kiss her beautiful neck.

Later that night, Kate wrote in her diary that her wedding to Heath would be a triumph of love and hope over reality.

'I need to hear you say it, Heath. What I'm about to do - run away with you - means my family will disown me and we can't ever behave like we did at the dance. There can never be…misunderstandings that we can't fix.'

'How can you doubt me for a second, Kate? You are my family now and I am yours. I have never loved nor will I love anyone the way I love you. You are everything to me. You are my world…and the only reason I'm here. I would have bolted a million miles away from Harrison by now if it didn't mean I'd miss you so much…' Suddenly the blood in Heath's veins surged. His mouth felt dry. He recognized the taste of venom in his mouth.

'Of course, I'm worried. Dr Vincent has told me that it's unlikely I will revert but I may evolve. On my birthday, the day I reach 'full maturity' as he put it, we don't know what will happen.'

'Whatever happens,' Kate said, 'I promise to be there.'

'Kate, I could start off mild…and then if I transition, I may become… uncontrollable.'

'I love you, Heath.'

'I love you too, Kate.'

'That's all I need to know.'

Heath covered Kate in kisses as she laughed and brushed the ground off their clothes.

'I'm glad we're making it official,' Heath said.

Kate smiled.

'We only have to wait until three months after your birthday, it's all arranged.' Kate said.

Heath hesitated, 'Remember, neither of us knows what…my condition will mean…' Just now, he'd nearly lost control and kissed her a little too close, too deep.

'I accept you, no matter what. But,' she joked, 'if you think we're too young…'

Heath's face dropped. 'You mean you're not sure?'

'Yes, of course I'm sure. I just want to try to smooth things over with Harrison. It will be easier on us.'

'Listen to me Kate, there is no "smoothing things over" with Harrison. He means to make our lives as difficult as possible. Harrison cannot be trusted. He will not help us and he will not help you if you try to make it up with him. You remember how he used to treat us as children? The hours where he would lock me in the basement and put you in a cupboard before father came home and discovered him? Don't you remember his callous behaviour, the cruel beatings?'

'Yes, of course I do. He was always jealous of how much father doted on us. He was jealous of how much you and I loved each other. He called our desires…unnatural. I often wondered what he meant since he was never told about your…condition.'

'I assumed he meant because we were raised together, but that hardly applies now.'

'Harrison is practically my only family… apart from you. I always thought once he got over his teenage phase… you know he really went off the rails at boarding school, going to wild parties, indulging in bad behaviour. He brought all of that home with him. I just thought he might change.'

'It's his nature, Kate. Some people don't change.'

'It would be easier… if he did.'

'You mean, it would be easier for us… financially.'

'Well, yes. I am used to having nice things and a comfortable house…'

'Those things aren't important…'

'I know but…'

'You're not listening to me, Kate. I will give you all of those things… and more…just not yet.'

'We're so young, Heath.'

'Do you doubt me Kate?'

'No, no I could never… I love you Heath. I would run away to the moon with you, but just give me these few days to try to smooth things over. We'll leave the moment I turn eighteen, either way. I promise.'

Heath looked down at his shoes as Kate stood up and shook the blanket. She reached over and kissed him softly then ruffled his hair like she used to when they were children. He took her wrist and kissed it as if he would never release her from his touch.

'I am yours, forever,' Kate whispered. 'Sometimes it scares me how much I love you. It is as if I have left my own self and you and I are complete, only when we are together.'

They merged under the fading clouds as the shadows of two lovers became one in the dark.

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**Escape – Present Day**_

'Breakfast!' Greta called to the inhabitant upstairs. Heath was hurriedly dressing and came bounding down the stairs looking like a much younger man with his riding boots in hand, ready to go out.

'Not going to the office this morning?' Greta asked as she handed Heath his coffee which he hurriedly gulped down.

'I'm going riding, if the stables are still standing.'

'Well, the storm stopped about a week ago, but it's been raining ever since so I'm not sure it's the best weather for riding. Mud everywhere.'

'It'll be fine,' Heath assured her. 'Oh, I see we have a visitor.'

'Yes…your, er… niece, Katarina. She seems to have become quite fond of her cousins.'

Heath looked at Greta blankly. 'Where are they?'

'They've left already. Katarina and Linus went out to find props and attend a dress rehearsal for the play. What are you getting yourself into Heath?'

'Nothing I can't get out of. She has a right to know her cousins. They have a right to know her.'

Greta raised an eyebrow. 'This isn't more…vengeance, is it Heath? Because, you know, you already fought that war.'

'Did I Greta? I'm not so sure.' Heath, in a rare show of affection (he was in a surprisingly good mood this morning), leant over and pecked Greta on the cheek.

'Don't worry so much Greta. It's time I had some more young people about me. The place seems a lot sunnier this morning.'

'Oh, you and your "young people", Greta smiled. 'You don't look a day over twenty-six. I wish you could give me the secret to your eternal youth.'

'You don't know the half,' It was a strange comment, Greta thought, since Heath had shared his secret with her long ago.

The wind had flattened the heather outside. A slight trick of sunlight shone across the park turning the other side of the field gold.

Greta shrugged. 'Trying to stop Heath getting involved in something he wanted had been almost pointless, from the time he was a little boy.' She wrote in her journal. _'I knew I could do nothing to persuade him against his plan…' _

_**Twenty Years Ago**_

Kate crept into Hareton Hall when it was way past dinner the night Heath had proposed to her. There was lightness in her step as she moved upstairs to pack her things. In the dark, she heard breathing. At first she thought it was just Frances, who had fallen asleep soundly on the couch but it was also her older brother, Harrison. He flicked the switch on above the couch and all of the chandeliers shone at once, creating a halo above Kate's head. Her brother stared at her menacingly from the corner of the drawing room.

Meanwhile, Heath was delayed. He'd taken the horses to the stables to wash them down. Kate dodged Harrison and wandered over to pat Hinton's head and carry him to his room. He was curled up asleep in a lounge chair with his puppy and she hesitated to wake him. Hinton was always content to play with his animals. Today it was a new pet, but as often he picked up a lost kitten outside in the garden and took it inside to feed. There were always small creatures that found their way into Hareton Hall and Hinton's menagerie.

Hinton stirred awake just as Franny, snuggled into Harrison's shoulder, opened her eyes. Kate realised her sister-in-law must still be delusional about Harrison's true nature.

Harrison had, these past few days, mostly ignored Heath and tried to curry favour with Kate. Greta wrote in her diary that she wondered what new scheme he was planning.

'Kate,' he said out of the blue. 'Welcome home. You've returned.' He nudged Frances. 'Franny wondered if you'd like to go on a shopping trip with her…to Paris.'

Kate tried to ignore Harrison's bribe.

'Dearest Kate, I want you and Frances to be friends. Paris is close to Switzerland where Franny and I will be skiing. The trip is on me.' Harrison had decided it would help to have Kate on side, less hassle when he needed her to sign legal documents.

'When?'

'Next week.'

Kate nodded, although she and Heath would be far away by then.

Since Oxford, Harrison had worked at the family firm and in the weeks since her father had died, Harrison had taken over not just her finances, but control of the entire estate. Until she was eighteen, he had all the power.

'I've been thinking, Kate… and your mother agrees, it's time for you to go back to school. Father would have wanted you to complete your education.'

'And Heath?' Kate added.

'Oh, well, that's up to him.'

Harrison basically ignored the question. 'That boarding school in Scotland was always useless. It's where I went after all and I doubt things have improved and…I'm concerned that you spend too much time doing nothing meaningful there. You can finish your studies in Switzerland, visit your mother and also learn something useful at the same time.' Harrison looked at the kitchen disdainfully, 'like how to cook for your future husband.'

Frances smiled as Harrison sniggered.

Kate knew without asking that he did not factor Heath into his statement and their plan would have to go into full swing. Kate was angry, however, and she couldn't resist a retort.

'You went to university. Why shouldn't I have that opportunity?'

'Dear Kate, you will be rich. What do you need university for? You'll only marry and have children like all the women before you. Oh, and let me give you some advice, no man wants a wife who… talks back.'

Kate couldn't believe Harrison's disturbing psychological argument. It was the 1990s after all. Harrison had always been poison; she should never have even bothered trying to reason with him.

'And to be honest, Kate, father's contacts helped me achieve, not my marks at school. We don't have him to help us anymore,' Harrison said, just to rub it in.

Meanwhile, Greta stirred the pot in the kitchen, going over her written instructions to the cook regarding the lunch for the meeting of twelve Board members that Harrison had called. Heath was still in the stables grooming the horses. Greta raised an eyebrow.

Harrison continued. 'As you know, you are not yet eighteen, so you are still legally under my care. The truth is Kate, unless you want to be out on the street, you have no choice but to comply with my wishes or…'

'Or?'

'If you run off with Heath, I'll call the police and have you both brought back and the "charity case" arrested.'

'On what grounds?'

'Oh, I'll make something up. I'm far more creative than you realize. I have friends in high places. I'm sure we can accuse him of something…freakish or financial. Dipping into charitable funds? Being a vampire? That could keep him detained for a while.'

'You have no proof.'

'My suspicions are enough to make an awful lot of trouble for you both. Besides, you are under age…'

'By three months…'

Harrison's wife, who had been curled up in the corner of the couch, stretched and went upstairs. Before she left she kissed her husband's cheek, oblivious to the shouting or his true nature. After all, she had a family fortune to protect as well and the merging of both family companies could only be profitable for both families. As Frances left, she smiled at Kate with an almost pitying look. In that moment, Kate realised she was all but alone. If she ran to the stables where Heath was washing the horses and they went away somewhere with what little funds they had, they would be running forever if Harrison had his way.

Well, they'd just have to take that risk.

'I don't want to go to Switzerland, Harrison.'

'It's all arranged Kate. The driver will take you to the airport in about ten minutes. Don't worry, Franny will meet you in Paris the first weekend. Mmm…I sense your hesitation. I feel Heath has brought you quite low in the world. You are to leave this afternoon. Go upstairs and pack your things. Oh, and don't fret. The Hunts have a chalet for the holidays. You are invited to stay for the season. You should be happy. Six months will go in six weeks. Then, when you've finished school, if you want to throw your life away on the charity case, who am I to stop you?'

'No. Father would have wanted us to stay together.'

'Father isn't here now. I'm the head of this household and you have nothing unless I give it to you. Learn to obey me Kate, at least until you can earn your own living.' Harrison looked around him and added as an afterthought, 'although the women in this household have never been very good at doing that.'

'Maybe that's because the men in the family refuse to educate them.'

'Excuse me?' Harrison said.

'And Heath?'

'Heath is eighteen at midnight Kate. What he does is no business of ours. I have sent a messenger to encourage him to leave the property at once. I shall send him packing with plenty of cash, Kate. No need to worry.'

'That's a lie! You've always been jealous of him!' Kate yelled at her older brother from the top of the stairs.

'Even so,' Harrison said coolly. 'We'll see who has the last laugh now.'

'Where is he?'

'I have a police officer outside in the stables waiting to explain his rights to him. I expect he will choose to leave sooner rather than…later. He should have turned eighteen by the time he…chooses to go.'

'Another lie…he'd never leave without telling me…'

'Well, after he's been told about your decision, he's sure to want to leave. It's almost midnight after all. What were you both doing out in the park so late? Never mind, don't answer that.' Harrison said smugly.

'Heath knows it would not be my decision…that I didn't have a choice.'

'Mmm…' Harrison said with a smile. 'Well, we didn't really explain it to him like that.'

'I will not leave without seeing him.'

'Heath took his bags and left a few minutes ago. He'd be half way down the road by now.' Kate moved to the front door but Harrison warned her with his words. 'If he wants you, I'm sure he'll write. I must tell you Kate, this teenage passion you have for him seems to me to be very one-sided.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I have it on good authority…'

'Whose?'

'Edmund Hunt's since you're so interested.'

'What has he been telling you?'

'Well, he happened to mention to the son of a colleague of mine, that Heath and his sister had been quite close…'

'Another lie.'

'Is it?'

'You know Heath can't stand her.'

'Really? Well in my experience where there's smoke, there's fire. Go and pack your bags and stop behaving like a moron. A few months in Switzerland will do you the world of good. You can leave in the morning. And I'm warning you, Kate, you don't actually have a choice.'

Kate turned to go up the stairs, holding back tears.

'Haven't you forgotten something?'

'What?'

'Say thank you.'

Kate ignored him. She ran up the staircase. When she reached her bedroom Kate looked through the windows. The stables were quiet, the horses almost silently eating hay. Heath was nowhere to be seen. He must have been dragged off the property. Kate moved through the connecting door to the playroom, the place in which she once gained many hours of solace. The door slammed shut and Harrison locked it behind her.

Screaming was useless. Instead, she leaned against the door, slumped to the carpet and cried.

After a few minutes, Kate sighed. Harrison had not barred the windows. She was wrong to try to reason with her brother. This was all her fault for not running away sooner.

The girl picked herself up, went to her secret hiding place under the floorboards and found the documents she needed. Quickly, she threw her passport and some belongings into a bag and crawled out of the window like she used to when she was a child. She scraped her arm sliding down the scaffolding outside the building, flung her things into the car (she'd hidden a spare set of keys in the stables), and sped down the road towards the intersection. She was sure Heath could not have gone too far; then she remembered how fast he could run. The car shuddered and ground to a halt. The petrol gauge came up empty. Harrison must have emptied most of the tank, suspecting she'd try to escape. She would have to go by foot across the heath.

**Chapter Seventeen**

_**Midnight**_

The boy was walking quickly. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder full of supplies and the fruits of his gambling stuffed into the back pocket of his black jeans. Kate caught up with him and flung her arms around him.

He kissed and hugged her in return.

'I was going to wait for you, here,' he said. Kate looked closely at his face. The skin around his right eye was turning black…

'The police officer did that?'

'He wasn't a policeman. Just a thug Harrison hired,' Heath said bitterly.

'I'm so sorry. We should have left sooner,' Kate said, kissing him. His lips were still warm. 'It was foolish of me to try to find the good in Harrison where there is so little.' Kate added regretfully.

They hid behind the shelter of the bus shed as the weather turned and rain spat from the dark sky. Soon it would be midnight and they'd have to hide until morning. They were together now and immune to the outside world.

'This is all that matters,' Kate said as she hugged Heath for warmth.

'C'mon,' the boy said, releasing her. 'There won't be any buses until morning. We must find warmer shelter. Harrison is probably in an alcoholic stupor by now so there's no need for us to freeze to death.'

They trudged across the ground in the dark.

It was almost midnight when Heath began to feel a stirring in his arms. Exhausted, they rested at the base of an oak tree. The muscles in Heath's legs tightened and he was woken by the strong and sweet scent of human blood. Kate was bundled up in her coat next to him. She had scratched her arm, climbing down the side of Hareton Hall and Heath had a strong desire to lick the scratch. He stretched, resisting the almost irresistible. He knew he had to get to his vampire specialist in London, today if possible. He felt sure Kate would understand. The muscles in his body thumped and tightened. The need to drink blood overwhelmed him.

He quickly grabbed a packet of Magenta from his backpack. It was the new product his specialist had urged him to take a sample of during his last visit. This liquid sated him, momentarily, and he fell asleep again next to Kate as the snow began to fall on the glass roof above them.

They'd had no choice but to wait out the storm in the glass house, the place where he and Kate had once loved to visit, loved to be together, just seated side by side, barely bold enough to touch. Heath remembered best those moments of wonder and they only added to his love for her. Meanwhile, his desire to plunge his fangs into her neck was becoming more intense by the minute.

'Heath?' the girl asked sleepily.

'Kate?'

He nudged her awake. The blue coat she hid under was long and heavy, made for stronger weather and travel.

Kate opened her red eyes. He could see she had cried herself to sleep. 'We can never go back,' she whispered. 'He threatened to tell everyone about you or worse… have you framed for some fake financial crime… and he'd be capable of doing it, you know. He can forge your signature on documents…'

Heath looked away.

'I doubt he'd go through with it. He doesn't want to publicly besmirch the family name. Wipe away your tears, Kate. We have each other.'

Kate put her arms around him, but for the first time, he pushed her back.

'Don't Kate,'

'Why not?'

'I can feel a change tonight. I need to go to Harley Street…'

'We'll go together,' Kate said.

They huddled on the bench as Heath started to sweat. The girl spread her coat over the boy.

'You should leave me Kate; I don't know what is going to happen next. I want you to be safe. Safe, from me.'

'You can't be serious. You can't seriously… I could never love anyone as I have loved you… all my life you are the only one for me.'

'And you for me.'

'What has happened? What did Harrison say to you?'

Heath looked away.

'He told me I'm a…freak. That he didn't want my blood tainting this family…'

'That's not true! I love you. If you are a freak then I'm one too and I don't care what the world says…'

'Kate, listen to me. On the street, being pursued, we are nothing. Give me time. I shall get my antidotes, supplies, a job, make some money and…come for you.'

'No. Don't.'

Heath got up.

'No. I will come to you. I'm writing down this address, in London. It's a little café where I once visited with father in Covent Garden when I was small, before he brought me home that night to meet you. I went there once a few months ago with Greta. I kept the business card. Here, I've written all the details. Meet me there, eight am in three months on the twenty-eighth. The day you turn eighteen, you will be free of him. We will meet there and be together, forever.'

'Promise me.'

'I promise to find you again, if we are ever parted. But we are not going to be parted.'

The lovers embraced.

Heath's hearing had sharpened. 'I sense they are near…'

'No, I cannot let you go,' Kate said. 'I cannot live without you.'

'Kate!' He whispered, his desire to fang her was stronger than ever. Heath whispered softly as his knees fell to the ground 'I love you.'

A shout could be heard in the distance, then a whistle and a voice, 'She's in there!' Headlights shone in through the glass.

'Careful officer, he's got a gun,' Harrison said. 'He took it from the stables. He tried to kill me and he's abducted my sister…'

Momentarily, Heath slumped from the light which imitated the sun. Heath had his arm around what looked like Kate's neck and the police officer must have misconstrued what he saw.

'Don't shoot!' Kate yelled.

It was too late.

The shot ran out in the cold night air and went right through Heath's chest, barely missing his heart.

He shuddered and writhed in pain. It was a shot no human being could survive.

Kate was stunned. Motionless, she barely made a sound.

The police officer stared in horror at the lifeless young male. He was speechless as he bent over Heath's ashen body. The policeman checked the packet in the boy's lifeless fingers. His fist contained nothing but a water bottle inside a brown paper bag. No weapon existed on his body.

Kate screamed hysterically and placed her head upon her loved one's chest as she sobbed.

'Heath, Heath!'

Moments passed.

Harrison took Kate's arm and dragged her to her feet. She fought him all the way to the car and finally broke free of him, turning and running back to Heath's body.

The police officer, chilled from the night air and the shock of what he'd done, began dialling emergency from his car radio.

Kate screamed again as Harrison took a swipe at her. He forcibly dragged her back to the car but she punched Harrison and kicked him twice as hard. She ran back to Heath and flung herself upon him. In that moment, he was cold and still as she sobbed in the shadows. There was not another human in sight of the distraught girl.

'And then,' Greta added casually, 'the bullet holes started to heal. The flesh grew upon itself until not a mark could be seen through the holes in his shirt. Heath's chest began to rise and fall, his fingers moved, his warm, brown eyes opened.' Greta looked at me as she finished her tea. 'The last words from Heath before he got up and fled were, 'I will pay Harrison back for what he's done.'

Greta sighed. 'And sure enough, he did.'

**Chapter Eighteen **

_**London**_

Kate whispered in his ear, before he'd disappeared into the night, 'I'll pretend to go along with his plan - three months from now. The twenty-eighth like we planned.'

He kissed her forehead and fled.

Heath's disappearance was a mystery. Where a body had lain in the dark only mist seeped through the glass house as the solitary, crying girl was dragged forcibly back to Hareton Hall and then packed off to Switzerland.

The streets of Soho had been very cold at one am - summer, winter or any other season. It had been two days since he had been shot during his transition (and revived). When he fled Hampstead, after Kate was dragged from him, after she'd whispered the time and date of their wedding, he was speechless. Intent on survival, he disappeared into the Hampstead mist. Heath gorged himself on squirrels and hoped it would tide him over until he could get in to see his specialist, Dr Vincent.

Driving back to The Hall, Harrison was sure he'd seen the last of Heath. Although he suspected a vampire variation, he was sure he'd imagined, in his near drunken stupor, the events that had occurred in the early hours of that morning. It was, of course, Heath's eighteenth birthday. As midnight bells rang out, Heath was becoming immortal, shy of sunlight, wary of mirrors and gradually non-existent in photographs. Fearful of dawn and what he might do, the rest would evolve instinctively, over time. He would forge his own path.

After Kate was sent kicking and screaming to Switzerland, Heath's fees were withdrawn as Harrison had promised and the school was notified that Heath would not be returning.

Meanwhile, Heath's friends from Scotland were in school and he had no local acquaintances in Hampstead or the surrounding boroughs and even if he did, he wanted to get as far away from what he remembered of his childhood, as he could. He had the small amount of money he'd saved from running his school fixtures racket (and winning), as well as the cash Kate had placed in her letter.

'I do remember that,' Greta laughed and then let the story continue as if telling itself…

Heath had a small amount of cash plus the money Harrison had given him "what remained of his father's wish", as a "do not return gift" - one hundred pounds – an insult. It was a great deal less than he'd actually been owed; and none of the legacy left to him by his adopted father.

Heath used the money for supplies. He then spent the second night after riding the tube and sleeping rough in St James Park, in a backpacker's hostel near the West End. He now had real empathy for the homeless and resolved that when he became rich and powerful he would help those less fortunate.

As Heath was transitioning, his body was changing inside, but he never gave up hope that he would land on his feet. He was almost glad to be free of Harrison and The Hall but it was Kate's promise of love that kept him going through those cold, desperate nights.

On the third morning he emptied his pockets and realised just how short of cash he would be, once he'd put down a payment on a room for the week. He went to stay with the older brother of one of his school team mates but it soon became clear after a few nights that he couldn't hide his needs from that family and he'd outstayed his welcome. He slept in the park again but it was freezing. The humanity left in him ensured he still felt very cold.

By now, he'd managed to see his specialist, who'd commiserated with him and congratulated him on his eighteenth birthday. The tests showed a major change in his chemical make-up and it would take a few days for his medication to settle his imbalance. Heath still saw his own reflection in the mirror, still ate food and continued to try to live as normal a life as possible. He slept in more than he used to, the craving for human blood was stronger. The promise of Kate was enough, and all he survived for.

Heath was sufficiently recovered from the first step in his transformation. He'd experienced all of the symptoms: major light sensitivity, pain raging through his veins so badly that he curled up under a tree in St James Park and whimpered in daylight, cravings, chills and sweats. He found a tiny bedsit room in Soho. It wasn't long before he discovered, along with the bad side-effects of transition, that he'd developed the power to move quicker and think faster. He could literally see a massive series of complex numbers and add them up to get the correct result. His mathematics skills had always been excellent but now they were computer-like in their accuracy.

Heath resolved to find a job, perhaps two. He could always work in a restaurant, and then look for something else that would utilize his other skills.

He'd always been good at mathematics at school but now his mind worked like a computer. He thought working in a bank might be a good direction to take. He would apply for an entry level job that required no formal qualifications. First, he needed some fast cash since he'd nearly used up all he had. London was a huge place and although young and now partially a vampire, he did not allow this to deter him. Heath went to a hotel and merged so quickly through the lobby that they didn't notice his trip to the men's room. He used the shower and towels and cleaned himself up. He went outside and walked towards Piccadilly via Regent Street and into Soho, leaving his name at various cafes and pubs along the way.

Although he had no experience, someone was sure to need a kitchen hand. As long as the fumes from the cooking didn't get the best of him, he thought he might actually enjoy working with food. He realised, at least for the moment, night work would be best.

The first time he'd walked out in broad daylight (and London was mostly overcast, even in summer), his skin crackled, far worse than it had when he was a child. Then, he realised he'd forgotten to wear his medallion. He placed it around his neck after that, never taking it off, realising it contained the power to help him live a relatively normal life.

After he'd secured a job in a café, he applied for a job as office cleaner in one of the huge banks in the City. It wasn't much but both jobs gave Heath hope.

Meanwhile, he studied the stock market, hoping to one day make enough money to put a deposit on a flat. In those weeks, applying to finish school by correspondence, (something Heath once planned to do), went by the wayside.

It was during this transition phase in his life that he turned a corner one day and walked straight into Annabelle Hunt, rugged up in a cherry red overcoat exiting the building where her Soho art class was held. Displaying a previously unrecognised knack for rebellion, Annabelle had insisted on attending day school in London so she could go to Art classes at college in the evening. Her family had relented because Annabelle had so rarely been passionate about anything (apart from Heath) in her young life. As the girl had turned eighteen she had some say in the matter.

'Anyway,' Annabelle said, 'school was so lame once you and Kate were gone. There was no one interesting to talk to at all, except my brother, and he's hardly exciting.' Annabelle added in a rare display of personality as they sat together in the student coffee shop where Annabelle had insisted on dragging Heath.

Heath nodded. 'Ah, something we both agree on,' he added sarcastically.

Annabelle smiled self-consciously.

Heath had been resistant to sit with her at first, but strangely, seeing Annabelle reminded him of Kate, and talking to her was like old times.

'You look so different,' Annabelle said, peering into his eyes. Heath looked away.

'I have her address, you know,' Annabelle added as she stuffed her contact details into Heath's palm and kissed him on both cheeks in her European way. Heath agreed to stay in touch and that is how Annabelle became Heath's unlikely ally.

In his spare moments, Heath studied the stock markets. He learned a lot from the discarded ledgers thrown in the waste paper baskets he emptied at the firm where he worked on week nights.

After working in a pub during the day, he managed to put a deposit on a tiny bedsit. The plan was to save enough money to finish school at a Sixth Form College the following term then fill out his university entrance forms for the next year.

Annabelle had contact with Kate through mutual school friends and reconnected with Heath to let him know she would be delivering the cards and letters Kate posted to him, care of her. These postcards would have gone "missing" if they'd been posted from Switzerland because Kate was not allowed to send mail to anyone that Harrison, her guardian, hadn't agreed to. The "society" Hunts, were on his list.

Surprisingly, Annabelle had agreed to act as a go-between for the lovers. Heath hoped Kate would go to university with him. Although he knew she had her heart set on Art School in Florence, London was 'a better option' she had written, 'considering their finances.' Heath smiled when he read her note, as Annabelle looked on pensively. She quite liked playing the go-between. It suited her surprisingly humble nature, Heath thought, underestimating her, not for the first time. He knew Kate would be making the best of a presumably bad situation in Switzerland and he worked away the days before he'd get the chance to see her again. They re-confirmed the date of their rendezvous in their letters.

Sleeping rough in St James, hunting squirrels for food - those days were a distant memory - yet hard living had almost suited him.

He was young, verging on immortal. He could easily stay out all night and work all day but he rarely spoke to other people nor was he interested in other girls. He'd taken Kate's red scarf; she'd left it in the stables in a rush, and now Heath kept it in his pocket. The wool was warm and smelt of her perfume.

His own bedsit, although grungy, was like a palace to Heath after the turmoil of Hareton Hall. In preparation for Kate's visit, Annabelle had insisted on buying lengths of material and decorating the windows. Occasionally, she wondered what it would have been like had Heath returned her infatuation at school but her new boyfriend, Toby, was good for her. He was also studying Art History. She knew she was in a better place with a man who could reciprocate her feelings. It was enough, she thought, just to be near Heath but Annabelle did not underestimate how important his new friendship was to her.

Heath was excited as the day drew nearer. He walked past the place Kate had arranged to meet him many times that week. On the second occasion he was sure he'd seen her, but then the girl turned around and her eyes were nothing like those of the woman he loved. Kate had promised him. Kate would be there. Promises were everything. A promise was all they had. The walls of his room were pasted with the old-fashioned post cards Kate had sent him every day for a week.

Through all of this, Annabelle had been the conduit. A secretive message relayed from a secret meeting in St James Park. She had even tried to stuff money in Heath's pocket while he waited for his first pay cheque. It was enough to give Heath and Kate hope since neither of them had telephones and the internet was barely in use.

The sun shone in London as Heath waited for Kate and their reunion drew near. He'd been holding down two jobs and with a roof over his head, was filled with hope for the future.

**Chapter Nineteen**

_**Promises**_

Meanwhile, Kate was unreasonably cold in the Alps.

Her roommates were chattering away by the fire, three to a room. They'd only known each other for a few months but already they were friendly, Kate thought, especially after she'd shown them the picture of her and Heath. On cold afternoons after deportment class and flower arranging and French cooking and "How to Entertain Diplomats" or "How to Behave When Greeting the Royal Family" tutorials were over, the girls socialized.

They turned their iron upside down, pulled out the small milk pan they hoarded for this very occasion, and made hot chocolates by pouring milk into the pan and sitting the pan on the underside of the iron to heat the milk. Their drinks were laced with the cream and marsh mellows they bought in the tiny convenience store in town. The girls sipped hot chocolate as they talked. The topic of discussion was usually Kate, Heath and their "everlasting love".

One of Kate's roommates, Tracey, was from California. She spoke in an accent Kate loved and made LA seem like a place Kate would definitely like to go one day. Daisy, the shorter one with dark hair, was from London.

'Oh, he's really cute,' Daisy said.

'Yes, he's hot. I would…definitely,' Trace replied with a wicked smile.

Kate smiled. 'Well, neither of you can have him, he's all mine,' Kate said, snatching the photograph, knowing she'd probably never have the pleasure of another image now that Heath was in the process of transition.

'Are you sure?' Tracey asked mischievously. 'All alone in London after your brother treated him so…scandalously?'

'Yes, it really was terrible to throw the _foster _child…out like that,' Daisy added. 'My mother would never treat a foundling that way. It just looks really bad to the outside world…'

Kate had told them the whole story (well, the parts she could repeat – nothing about Heath's transition) but they somehow always got the details wrong.

'Heath is so hot,' Daisy said, glancing at the photograph of Kate and Heath taken just days before they ran away from Hareton Hall. Kate looked at the picture nostalgically.

'Gosh your house sounds so romantic, tucked away opposite a frozen park…' Daisy added.

Kate unfolded the letter she had received from Heath by way of Annabelle and re-read it as she stirred the milk pan, making sure a plastic skin didn't form.

'Only one more week,' she thought '…before I'm free of this place forever.'

The girls had been sworn to secrecy and Kate had worked out the route she would take from the school, down to the convenience store across the sleet road to the bus stop, down the mountain road to the train station, through the tunnel in the mountain…across the channel then on to London.

The café was in Dean Street. From the corner table you could see the cobbled pathway that led towards Covent Garden. Art students and opera singers busked there in the hub of shops and cafes and people.

It had been a long three months and in that time Heath and Kate had communicated using letters and postcards.

In the pre-internet nineties, Kate and Heath needed Annabelle as their intermediary.

The cards and letters Kate wrote Heath during their enforced separation lined the wall of the tiny room he'd taken. They began to arrive less than a week after Heath and Kate separated. Kate found a local bakery near the school where she walked to in her lunch hours and religiously posted a card to Heath using Annabelle's address. Sometimes at night after Heath had eaten food brought home with him from the pub (always some kind of red meat or chicken), he fell asleep reading the names of the cards on the wall.

The words: _holiday, skiing_ and _Switzerland_ became a kind of pattern in his mind; a pathway out of the daily grind he told himself was only temporary. He recognised a stronger desire for blood (and always the desire for revenge on Harrison) the closer he got to midnight.

His love for Kate tempered him. He was sure it made him a better person to know he had to be the best he could, for her. He resisted the evils lurking in St James. Daily, he was tempted by the homeless people on the street, the women in expensive coats, business men in even more expensive suits. Their veins pulsed at him like light if he was even a few minutes late taking his medication. He'd explained all of this to Kate in a letter; the one in ten thousand chance he'd had of being born a hybrid, then turning into a vampire; how his biological father must have carried the gene but not necessarily suffered from its affliction.

The night he was due to see Kate, Annabelle and some of her Art School friends took Heath out to celebrate the fact that he had applied and been accepted into a training program at the firm where he cleaned. His brilliance with numbers and ability to stay up all night studying ensured him the highest marks in the exam. They went to a restaurant in the centre of town where Annabelle, who had pretty much given up on Heath as anything but a friend, had arranged a surprise for Heath. Kate's arrival was not supposed to be until the next day, Saturday, but she'd managed to "escape" early, as she put it.

Kate waited for Heath expectantly. She wore a scarlet coat and a matching scarf and her hair was swept up in a winter woollen cap, making her appear sophisticated beyond her years. Annabelle arrived with a group of friends from Art School and headed to the reserved table.

'Kate! It's so wonderful to see you. I cannot believe you are back in London for good! Don't worry; everyone thinks you are staying with me. They won't notice you've gone missing until Tuesday - plenty of time for you and Heath…'

'I can't thank you enough, Annabelle.' Kate said.

'Well,' Annabelle replied, 'I hope we can be friends now, as we were always meant to be.' Annabelle glanced over at the handsome Art School student she was dating and Kate realised Annabelle was finally over Heath. Maybe it was true they could at last be friendly. Without her cover, she would never have been able to escape the day before her birthday.

'Thank you so much for being such a true friend to me Annabelle.'

'Not at all, it's about time Harrison got some of his own medicine. I've always liked Heath… as you know, but let's face it, he only ever had eyes for you,' Anne added.

When Heath arrived, expecting to see Annabelle and her other friends (who were now his friends) he was completely floored.

'Kate! You changed your mind and arrived early!' he said as she shyly kissed him on both cheeks.

'I wish. Tomorrow,' she whispered in his ear, 'I'm yours forever.'

Kate flung her arms around him and together they sat with the group while they all decided where to go for dinner. Something cheap but cheerful in Soho was the general consensus. Heath chatted excitedly about his new job opportunity and Kate told him about her plans to enrol in Art College with Annabelle.

Kate leaned in toward Heath and took his hand under the table. 'I don't care what happens now as long as I'm with you,' she said. 'Finishing School was a nightmare.'

Heath smiled back with his eyes and whispered to her, 'I love you.' He had invested his stock market winnings and had managed to double the money in a month. It was enough for them to have their deposit on a flat.

'The room in Covent Garden, it's tiny, it's not much, but soon I'll be making so much money. In a few years you'll be able to choose the finest house in London - or, who knows, we could move to America. I've always wanted to go there.'

They talked this way all night, making plans for their future. They couldn't tell anyone about their plans for the next morning, not even Annabelle. It was too risky to involve others. They intended to stay up all night until their wedding day which would be the following morning.

'New York is supposed to be brilliant,' Kate said as she ate the salad off her plate and passed Heath the chicken.  
'It is for artists,' Toby said. Kate was keen to meet Toby, Annabelle's boyfriend. Belle had been secretly seeing him for months. It was the reason for her move to London. Annabelle's father didn't approve of her dating an artist. In defiance Annabelle had run away from home. Her father had not dared to cut her off financially though, as Heath and Kate had been. Annabelle was in love (for the second time, Kate thought with a smile). Belle's new passion finally took the heat off Heath, although he'd obviously grown to like Annabelle. They'd made better friends than he'd anticipated. Unexpectedly, Annabelle dragged Toby up off his seat and they began to dance to some random eighties song together.

Kate leant in, 'Wow Art School has certainly changed Annabelle …"

Heath replied, 'For the better, I'd say. By the way, how long before they notice you're missing and phone the authorities?'

Kate said, 'You mean Harrison …'

'Yes.'

'Well, they think I'm staying with Annabelle until Tuesday. By tomorrow, I'll be eighteen and they won't have any say in the matter.'

Kate leant in and Heath kissed her, the strobe lighting played tricks with their shadows as he whispered, 'I'm under control. I just thought you should know. I've been to the specialist and he says I may not devolve any further as long as I stay on my…'

Kate put her finger to his lips, 'We love each other. That is all that matters.'

At midnight, Heath replayed those words many times in his head. He could see Kate's expectant face as Annabelle and Toby wandered off to another club. Heath and Kate hailed a taxi.

'I want you so much,' Kate whispered to Heath in the back of the London cab.

'Me too, but we should wait until morning.'

'What do you mean?' Kate smiled.

'By morning, the transition for me will be almost complete. My specialist told me the first phase takes three months, unless there is a relapse. I've been taking my medication now for almost three months and I'm… stable. I won't be tempted to…drain you…' Heath then looked away as he said this and pulled out of his jacket the ring he'd been carrying in his pocket since his first pay cheque. He'd lived on nothing and saved every cent to buy Kate the style of ring that he thought she deserved. The diamond was larger and more expensive than a young man in his position would have been able to afford, but it was a token of his trust in their future and his faith in Kate's complete love. The diamond shone.

'Oh, Heath, it's beautiful.'

Kate slipped it on her finger.

'Happy birthday Kate.'

'It fits perfectly,' Kate said as she slid her arms around Heath's broad shoulders and kissed him passionately.

'Oh, we need to do this properly,' Kate whispered, coming up for breath.

'Driver, pull over please,' Heath said.

The cab pulled up on the curb near the well-heeled part of Kensington where the shops were freshly painted.

Heath asked the driver to wait, while he opened the door and helped Kate out.

In the street lights, Kate walked with Heath towards a clothing shop.

'Wait outside,' she warned, 'I had access to some money for the ski trip I'm meant to go on. I ordered something from this store in Switzerland. The store had it packed up and sent to the London shop. You're not allowed to see it yet.'

Kate returned with a large bag. Inside was her wedding dress. It had been packaged up for her collection, all arranged weeks ago.

Before she could add anything in words, Heath kissed her.

'Kate, you have made me the happiest person in London.'

'And you have made me the happiest woman in the world, in the universe,' Kate said. It was first light as they drove towards the tiny church in Chelsea; Kate recalled scrawling the words _Katherine & Heath own the universe…_all over her school texts when she was younger. Soon those words would be a reality. Kate knew they belonged together - her dream was coming true.

It was freezing; flakes of snow began to fall from the sky as they walked up the steps. Kate emerged from a side room dressed in her cream lace vintage gown. Heath was talking with the vicar. They'd bought flowers from a street seller on the way and Kate held a large bouquet of tulips.

Together they said their traditional vows and both embraced on their promise. Kate shivered as they kissed.

They exchanged words of thanks with the vicar who remarked on their youth. After the promise of their love, they signed the registry.

Outside as they hailed a cab, Kate and Heath kissed again with an intensity that made people on the footpath stare.

Heath smiled, filled with love for his beautiful new wife. He had wanted her from the first moment they had kissed, yet they had waited to be free. They reached for each other in the back seat of the London cab as they headed towards Soho. Heath had spent his whole pay cheque on a suite at the best hotel in Covent Garden. The exquisite room with the Queen sized double bed and fresh sheets was strewn with the petals of Kate's favourite flowers as Heath carried his young wife over the threshold. For the first time in months, as they kissed passionately and undid the buttons on lace and silk, their lives seemed rich with possibility.

The afternoon had been perfect. The transitions occurred in the shadows, in the early hours, as Kate lay sleeping. She woke and hugged Heath to her, nursing him through his night terrors, checking they had all the necessary supplies of Type A, plasma, elixir, medication. The final part of the six-month process was the worst, they'd been told. Kate soothed Heath as he fell back into a trancelike sleep.

In the early morning, a knock at the door woke Heath. Kate had risen earlier and was using the hair dryer. A messenger delivered a note addressed to Heath who read it quickly.

'I'm just going outside for a moment,' he said through the gap in the bathroom door.

'Uh, okay,' she called out to him. Silence was the response.

Kate wrapped her dressing gown around her and padded into the room with wet feet. She searched the hallway of the hotel; nothing. It worried her that the messenger and Heath had disappeared into dawn.

Heath had hastily scribbled a note for her and left it on the bed.

**Forget me until I find you. Wait for me, I'll return. I'm sorry H.**

Kate was shocked. It couldn't be Heath's writing, but it was. Kate dropped the note on the floor, pulled on her clothes hastily and ran out onto the street, bare foot, to look for him. After an hour on the street, searching through the crowds, it was hopeless. Her feet, bloodied and bruised, were the least of her troubles. Heath had disappeared into thin air. All Kate had left was the memory of the first night they'd spent together, blissfully entwined in each other's arms.

**Chapter Twenty**

**London**

_**Three Years Later **_

Heath was walking home from work after he'd been photographed for the cover of New Business Magazine. The journalist was writing about Financial Whizz Kids – the title chosen for the article. Heath tried to remain himself but the art director had insisted on having his hair messed, his tie skewed and his jacket open, giving him the appearance of a rock star and making him more famous amongst his colleagues in a week than he had been in a year. Women he'd never met messaged him. Heath told them he was married and most of them stopped. He was too young to be married but then he explained he'd met his wife when they were teenagers and they just raised their eyebrows.

Soho on Friday night was lit up with music and lights, like a buzzing carnival act. The West End was busy every night of the week. Heath had been working in the City making more money in his first year as a stock trader than he'd dreamt possible. Through extreme luck and, some might say, mathematical genius, financial fortune came his way. He was a mystery to his co-workers, but Heath knew the truth; that he never slept, that he was able to do in one day what took others a week; he could stay awake and trade in every time zone.

After trawling the usual after-work bars with work colleagues (referred to euphemistically as "friends"), Heath often ended up near his home in Chelsea at a small cafe, drinking elixir from a flask and checking the Asian markets as he waited for his supper of rare roasted lamb, occasionally fish, sometimes chicken – always protein. He usually arrived at his house in the early hours of the morning and was up again and seated at his desk by six in the morning.

He was aware that more than a decade of living this lifestyle would take its toll on his family, yet he existed in the moment. Money markets and stockbroking firms were where traders like him could make a huge profit and get out by the time they hit thirty, which gave him about nine years until burn out. And then some, because he'd been warned now, he wouldn't appear to age more than twenty-six years. He had made a full transition, immortality beckoned. He loved the feeling money and this new vampirical power gave him. It had taken him less than a year to turn his life around and he couldn't help but congratulate himself on his good fortune. He never had any doubt that he was as good as anyone else, as capable as any person.

Heath stayed out late to avoid going home. It was true their house was envied in a street full of beautiful homes and families, but it was all surface. To the outside world, they seemed so perfect. Still, he knew he'd made this "fast money" by doing things he never dreamt he'd do – marrying into wealth, identifying the weaknesses of other men and preying on them. As he made money, others lost it.

When the waiter brought the tall, striking young man in the dark suit another coffee as he'd requested, Heath remembered the request from his wife. She had asked him to bring groceries home - milk, bread, mundane things, nothing special. The message had been given to him in his office six hours ago. She's added love and kisses as she always did, revealing her true self with each forgotten word. It had all become a bit old to Heath. He flinched when he recalled the embarrassing note.

Familiar music played in the café; a beautiful song, sung by a band Kate had liked, all about the perfection of a day. For evening, it couldn't have been a more inappropriate song. Nevertheless, the music played as Heath drank his coffee and went over the business transactions on his laptop as the wait staff began to clear up and wonder when the last customer would leave.

The words of the song played over and over in his mind.

Heath sighed, wondering why Kate always came back to him when he was alone. He wished she could be erased from his memory, forever. Any good psychologist would tell him he was better off without her. Heath finished his drink, and then went to the street to hail a cab. Of course, he wasn't far from the bedsit they'd shared briefly after they'd married. The West End was filled with his memory of her.

Meanwhile, Kate was at home at The Grange wondering how it had all gone so wrong. She sat in the window seat in the moonlight, doing some sketches under a lamp for the theatre design she was drafting. The drawings were a welcome distraction from her personal life and she'd grown to enjoy the drawing and planning along with the productions she worked on at the theatre with Annabelle; at twenty-one, she felt old.

_**Two years previously**_

Kate gave birth to a girl, Katarina.

The baby's birth was premature, yet she survived. Kate and the baby's nanny were waving toys above Katarina's crib in the nursery at The Grange, six months later. It was a lighter, airier room than the one at Hareton Hall, decorated with pink curtains at Annabelle's insistence. There was a familiarity at The Grange which led to a certain type of contentment as Kate soothed her baby. Just as she was about to sing Katarina her favourite lullaby, Annabelle ran breathlessly into the room.

'Kate, I have to tell you something,' Belle whispered. 'The detective contacted me this morning; he's discovered money being deposited into Heath's bank account; they traced it to New York. Heath's been living over there.'

Kate was silent.

'Don't you see what that means, Kate?' she whispered. 'He's alive! We thought the worst when his bank account hadn't been touched.'

'Yes,' Kate said. 'I felt he was alive. What am I supposed to say? He abandoned me.' She turned and walked purposefully up the stairs. The wild haired girl she had once been was prematurely replaced by a grown up wife. Kate looked at herself in the mirror as she dressed in her old jeans, red sweater and expensive winter coat. All she saw in the reflection was a miserable young woman, a terrible mistake. What choice did she have? Kate had wanted a father for her child.

Months of wondering and searching for Heath who was untraceable had been hard on her. The man she loved had proved himself worse than unreliable. She knew she should be forgiving as Annabelle would no doubt be, yet she found it difficult to smile. If Heath did return, he was sure to be angry.

'He'll come to visit you, I know he will,' Annabelle said as she walked into Kate's room.

Kate just looked at her, barely smiling. They walked downstairs.

'Well it won't do much good now, will it? I'm going to see what Greta has made for lunch.' Kate glanced briefly at the parcel Annabelle had left for her on the dining room table.

'These are the photographs I took,' Annabelle added.

Annabelle had taken photography as one of her core subjects at Art College. She had a job as a gallery assistant in a Soho studio. Her photographs were artistically lit but practically framed, perfect for advertising a production such as the one Kate was now co-designing in the West End.

Kate's passion for painting had not subsided. She'd also completed a theatre design course and her sketches were much in demand. Motherhood, and the beginnings of her artistic career, had gone part way to rectifying the monotony of her days. Katarina and painting made her focus on the future.

That week, Harrison, his wife Frances and her young brother Hinton, had gone to Ireland to visit the premises of a new company. Edmund Hunt, Kate's husband, was spending the day at his office in the City. Kate had agreed to house sit at Hareton Hall that night with the baby and her nanny, but only to satisfy her sister-in-law's wishes.

Kate was working on one of her final designs for the play due to open the following month, and feeding Katarina, when she rushed up to the kitchen and hung her head over the sink. Though her stomach was flat, she felt unsettled and nauseated, again. The thought of bringing a new life into her world was quite shocking although she knew Edmund would be happy about it. Kate put the symptoms of pregnancy out of her mind. After Katarina and her nanny were settled upstairs, Kate decided to explore.

It was strange to pad around Hareton Hall in bare feet and her dressing gown for the first time in years. The memories were provoking a strong reaction in her.

The mansion was quiet but it still felt more like home than The Grange. She felt the absence of Heath and her father, everywhere she wandered. The usual staff had Sunday afternoon off, including Greta. Kate had turned all the chandelier lights on (the electricity bill was sure to annoy Harrison) and turned the downstairs music up. She wasn't that far away from being a teenager even though she was now a mother; she felt like softly dancing the roof off, if only to forget how much of a mess she'd made of everything.

When she finished moving to the music, she decided to explore the upper floors. She peeked into the playroom where Katarina was soundly asleep. The nanny, whom Edmund had insisted on employing (she had raised both him and Annabelle), was knitting a cardigan in the comfortable arm chair and placed her fingers to her lips. Kate quietly shut the door. Although the nanny was brilliant, Kate sometimes thought the woman considered her too young to be an adequate mother.

Wandering alone through the top floors, she was surprised to find her former bedroom was similar to the way she had left it. Her school mementos had been placed in boxes high in the cupboard and labelled in Franny's neat, clear, handwriting. Photographs from every year of her childhood and adolescence, as well as old videos, were stacked side by side.

It was kind of Frances not to have thrown them out, Kate thought. Previously, she'd had little to do with her sister-in-law though they now lived ten minutes apart. There was even a box of old school uniforms. Kate took out her blue blazer with red piping around the edges, the one she'd worn to boarding school in Scotland. Then she pulled a large, woven basket towards her. She intended to have a huge throw out, to leave the past behind her once and for all.

Cleaning up was busy work and mid-morning; half way through throwing out her old clothes, Kate became bored. She checked on Katarina, kissed her precious face, fed her, and then considered her clothing options. Kate dragged her old riding clothes from her wardrobe and pulled on high, polished black boots that matched her long, curly dark hair. Kate twisted her curls into a loose bun and grabbed her coat. It was true that Harrison had maintained the house but it was sure to be chaotic again soon with the imminent return of the rambunctious yet adorable Hinton.

On occasion she had found Hinton, a few years older than Katarina, standing by her cot and attempting to hold hands with the baby or teach her words she didn't know. He was a very protective, sweet natured child, although Kate constantly worried for his future in the care of Harrison. Yet Hinton's good nature seemed to bring out the best in everyone around him, including her brother.

Thirsty, she stomped to the kitchen, aware of her noisy feet on the polished floors. The music had stopped and the place was almost eerie. Kate missed her father, but not enough to live in the house that held the memory of him, Heath and of their shared childhood. Kate poured herself a large glass of water and drank it quickly. Almost as quickly, she grabbed her scarf and went outside to the stables, pulling the door shut behind her. The wind, which was rising across the Heath in the distance, along the walking tracks and riding trails, was harsh. Her lips were red and her cheeks flushed with cold and exercise.

Kate patted, brushed and saddled her horse but she decided to walk alongside Hero through the park trail. It was not a great day for riding in her possible condition. Although it started out sunny, it became cool, windy and overcast. Kate knew exactly where to find shelter when the storm that had earlier threatened to interrupt her afternoon, finally arrived, after she'd been walking Hero for half an hour. Kate removed her wedding ring, the one that rubbed on her finger with the reigns and placed it in her pocket. She wore her first one around her neck, close to her heart.

**Chapter Twenty-one**

_**Revenge**_

Hampstead Heath had a thin film of lavender mist hanging over it during winter as she headed for the Glass House. There were very few people in the meadow at this hour of the day. Kate was invigorated from the cool air in a way she wouldn't have been had she stayed inside. Her usual routine - a light lunch, nurse Katarina, read or do some yoga - before wading through the play script that lay in wait for her had been replaced by her ramble. She had more ideas about the design of the play she was working on and had brought paper with her to sketch the arboretum. The garden was the central motif in the play and she wanted to take another look at the architecture.

Kate tied her horse up and got him some water. As she did this, a familiar horse rode towards her, or maybe she just thought his markings were familiar. As she looked closer through the clearing, it was the rider she recognised. He was slightly older, leaner, yet unmistakably the man who had filled her every waking dream and now her nightmares.

Heath alighted from his horse in the easy manner of a country squire.

Kate looked over at him. Even from a distance, she could hardly believe he was real.

He walked towards her, slowly, with purpose.

Before they spoke she reached over when he paused to touch his face as if to ask the vision before her if he even existed.

'Heath?' She whispered.

'Yes,' he replied. 'It's me.'

'But…you've been gone…for three years. I tried to find you. What happened? How did you come to be here?'

'Perhaps I should be the one asking questions. I saw your marriage notice in the paper not long after we parted.'

Kate was silent for a moment.

'You left me,' she said.

Heath's face displayed a knowing, hardened expression with more than a twinge of anger.

'I am staying at the pub. I have business with Harrison in relation to Hareton Hall. I went around looking for him but there was no one at home. I saw your car in the driveway and I didn't think you'd be far. The horses were there - all except Hero. One of them was practically biting his way out of the stable, so I thought I'd take him out. He seems to remember me.'

Heath patted the animal and went to tie the reigns.

'Business… with Harrison?'

'Yes. Greta told me you'd be here. You might be interested to know that I am soon to be the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

'How?'

'Harrison mortgaged it to my company; he lost his money gambling. The house was going cheap and I put a down payment on it. I officially own it as of…about three minutes ago. '

Heath smiled. Kate knew she didn't have the full details of the matter but suddenly realized how good he must feel.

She visibly shivered as Heath took her gloved hand in his.

'I am to be your new neighbour Mrs Hunt.'

Kate sighed, never having doubted, in the faint possibility if he ever revealed himself to her again, Heath would one day be the stronger of them.

'And what of Harrison?'

'Oh, he can remain in the guest cottage until he's found another place to stay. It's all arranged.'

Together they walked in breathless silence towards the glass house where they had met as children. There were overgrown hothouse flowers and benches and comfortable chairs for lovers. The chairs had been unused all winter until Kate and Heath rested upon them, side by side. Again they sat in silence for what seemed the longest stretch of time. Actually it was only a few minutes.

Both former lovers were angry. Kate was almost speechless.

'Did you read the note I left?'

'Yes, you said you'd find me,' Kate replied softly. 'It wasn't enough. All those legal terms…none of them true.'

'I needed proof. Harrison told me we shared the same biological father…' He showed Kate the note.

_Forget your unnatural desires, _it read_. Apart from the fact that you are a monster there are few grounds for an annulment and marrying a close relative is one of them. I tried to keep you both apart for a reason. Kate is your half-sister. Mother left because she knew! That's what they were fighting about that night, more than ten years ago. I heard them! You are father's biological child. He said so himself…Do Kate a favour and leave her. I'll arrange an annulment at this end. We'll tell her you changed your mind. I'm sure she'll understand once she knows the truth. I tried to warn you. Thank me later, Harrison._

Kate shook her head after she read it.

'I am not surprise. Harrison told me of the supposed connection. I suspected he was lying.'

Heath was silent. Kate tore the letter up.

'Later, after I married Edmund he admitted it was another of his lies, designed to tear us apart - only this one worked,' Kate said regretfully.

Heath noticed Kate's scarlet riding jacket. It contrasted with her black riding boots and reminded him of blood. The colours suited her well. Blood reminded him of betrayal.

He would never admit that he envied her marriage and longed for revenge upon her family that went further than just the ownership of Hareton Hall. In any case, Kate must have expected the foreclosure on her childhood home since there had been talk all over town for months that Harrison was going broke and had dragged the family name into disrepute. Then he remembered that it was likely Kate barely knew anything. She rarely spoke to her brother.

'What have we done Heath?' she said after a long silence.

He could see her breath, cold in the air and longed more than ever to do what he'd always resisted doing; to do what he'd done in the endless nights of travel, parks and animal blood. Then, after he had money, there had been the empty living of hotel suites, women and elixir to help drown his misery. It had taken him months to trace his mother, to find out the truth. The specialist had told him he could be fairly sure Harrison's allegation was untrue but for total confirmation he'd have to locate his biological mother and trace some evidence of his biological father. It had all taken so much longer than he'd expected, several weeks. He'd been in virtual limbo in the meantime, not wanting to burden Kate with his misery after he'd tried to find her. He'd seen her through the windows of The Grange that night, looking so content.

He felt more empowered inside than ever since he'd allowed his true nature to emerge. Once he'd stopped worrying about Kate's thoughts he could begin to live the life he was born to live. He looked at her again, the veins in her wrist and neck, thumping, tormenting him.

Her hand moved to his and she looked at him pleadingly. In that moment, he was sure he hated her unfairly. The glimpse of the wedding ring near her neck convinced him he was right. His plan for vengeance had stirred in him ever since he'd seen Edmund kissing Kate in the window seat that night. Weeks after Heath and Kate married; Heath's transition phase began to stabilize. He wanted her back.

Kate looked at him accusingly.

'How can you look at me like that? You married another. You didn't wait as I asked you to. Harrison had drained the family funds and I now see what a good idea it was for you to marry richly and quickly and…to that spoilt brat Hunt. I see how easily an annulment was arranged, given the feigned reasoning that we were biologically…related. I can't believe you actually went through with the new marriage. Of course, it all makes perfect sense, given the way you were raised and your brother's distorted value system…'

'In my defence, there was a good reason. You abandoned me. Harrison finally admitted it wasn't true but by then I couldn't…locate you.'

'I came to find you, weeks later, after I'd made sure…everything was as it needed to be.'

'I was dragged to Verbier to recover from my broken heart. I had a skiing accident. I was unconscious for three days! I couldn't get a message to you. I looked for you everywhere. I tried to find you but you had…disappeared. I waited for you… long enough. You had simply, vanished. It was…logical for me to…marry Edmund, I had no choice…I never believed you would ever come back to me. Not after the note Harrison wrote.'

'I said I would return. Love is not logical Kate. I'm sure your mother taught you that…' He coughed into the sleeve of his jacket as he said this. Kate was alarmed by his thinness and pallor. He looked hungry.

'You are so cruel Heath. You know my mother taught me very little except how to leave.' The woman stood, but she did not move away from him. Just being near him gave her strength and courage. The scent of Kate's perfume was an elixir to Heath, as magical as her blood which he longed to drink. He moved closer.

'Stay,' Heath said. 'Please stay. No piece of paper should separate us.' He took her gloved hand, looking desperate for the first time and slumped into her shoulder. 'Please, get me my…drink. It's in the saddle bag.'

Kate got up and grabbed a flask, taking off the top and poured Heath some amber liquid.

'How is your…condition?'

Heath took a sip and looked at her as if he might eat her.

'Manageable.'

He'd torn the leg off a turkey and eaten it before he'd come to find her. At least the leg was cooked. He hadn't stooped to raw meat yet, unless it was a fresh animal kill.

By then, from the look on her face, Heath knew he had gone too far. Kate, like him, had had very little parental guidance. The girl turned on him as he regained his strength, lashing out…

'You don't know everything…you don't know anything! You went missing after our wedding, remember? I thought you'd abandoned me or worse, that you were dead! What did you expect?'

'I… I didn't want to hurt you with the truth about our family… what I've since learnt was false. I went for a walk to clear my head but the transition caused me to collapse in a gutter. I woke up three days later in a police station…'

'You should have known…Harrison would do anything to separate us.'

Kate looked away.

'I know… for that I owe you an apology.' Heath said. 'Harrison's lie was a shock to say the least. Something I wanted to spare you. To do that, I needed the truth. I needed to find my…birth mother.'

He did not wish to elaborate upon the murkier details of the conversation he'd had when Harrison had inferred Kate was a blood relation.

Kate looked away, 'I know,' was all she said.

'When I had proof, I contacted Greta. She begged me not to make trouble but I had to find you anyway. Then I learnt you'd gone skiing…with the Hunts.'

'You had disappeared. Annabelle offered comfort and support…'

'Yes, I know, and her brother…' Heath said sarcastically, 'You've always been perfectly capable of impressing your…admirers, Kate. I hear you are the talk of the theatre world, young designer of the season, your drawings and paintings nominated for an award…'

'Oh, you never cared about me having a career…how dare you joke about it now! We both know all that seems meaningless in relation to…all of this.'

Heath turned and held Kate by the shoulders, 'You're right, I never did care about _your career_ as you put it, because all I wanted was you…'

'And you had me…'

Heath laughed sardonically.

Kate continued '… You were the one who went missing, _remember_.'

'Yes and now look at you, married to someone else with barely three months between us. Harrison must have really pulled strings to have the annulment rushed through.'

Kate looked away.

'The paperwork was destroyed. It was all hushed up. No one except the family knew we were even married.'

**Chapter Twenty-two **

_**Reunion **_

He was tempted to twist her arm with more than a little bit of force. Tempted to kiss her wrist, plunge his teeth into it, suck her blood and drain the life out of her. But he held back. If she'd come too close, he didn't know if he'd be able to control himself. Since he'd turned twenty one, everything had changed. Even with medication, he spent his nights out hunting, baying for blood, preying on animals when he couldn't resist. So far, he'd drawn the line at innocent humans but he craved their energy, especially Kate's. Her blood had always been tempting to him.

'I waited for you to return,' Kate repeated, frustrated with the tone of the conversation, 'until I could wait no longer.' Her words were greeted with stony indifference as they walked together, yet apart. 'I would've waited for you forever, if you'd just sent me some word, a proper explanation.'

'Well, it didn't take you long to make your choice,' Heath said bitterly.

'You gave up too easily…' Kate said incredulously.

Heath continued to talk. 'Stupidly, I left quickly, without talking to you. I went to find the doctor on Harley Street; I thought he would be able to shed some light on Harrison's lies, give me proof we were not brother and sister. My specialist was abroad. By the time I walked back to the bedsit to find you, it was almost midday. I went past that tiny pub near Dean Street where people had already congregated and was caught in the middle of a fight on the footpath. I don't know how it happened but I was knocked out and found myself in the back of a van being taken for questioning by the police. They locked me up that night and as we didn't have the telephone, I couldn't speak to you. I passed out.

Without my supplies, things just went from bad to worse. I became delirious. When I woke, I was desperate to find you.

There was a girl and a man that night as I walked back to our flat, and they were fighting and he brought out a knife. There was no one else around and when he threatened her, then me… I… snapped. I did not know my full strength. It was the first time I ever… fed on a human. The girl fled. The man was alive when I left him but I felt so despicable. Still, I wanted to find you, though I could hardly face you. You weren't at the bedsit and…I believed he would have killed the girl if I hadn't…stopped him - but I was out of control by then. I vowed never to let myself become like that and to find out the truth about…us.'

Kate was shocked; she didn't know what to say.

'Perhaps in some cases…violence is justified. I am not afraid of you, Heath.'

'Their fight started with a few misplaced words and a punch being thrown out on the street…but ours started so much sooner. We were always from two different worlds, Kate, but two halves of the same whole, even so.'

Heath looked embarrassed as he told Kate the rest of the story.

'I tried to contact you. I'd spent the night locked up and a further day talking my way out of everything - it's a long story - there was no match to me on the man's person so they couldn't charge me. Oh, that's the latest thing, my…fingerprints have disappeared. And… when I look in the mirror, I barely see my image. But I'm still okay in the sun, as long as I wear this.' He pulled out the amulet her father had made sure he wore as a young child.

'I was very…angry when I got back to Hampstead. I felt…unworthy of you, but I was determined to find you. I had my answer from Dr Vincent and I was satisfied the necessary tests had been made to ensure we were not related. Then, I made my way back here to Hareton Hall and walked across this park. It was almost exactly three years ago today.

As I approached the house, Hareton Hall was lit up like a Christmas tree. I felt a pang of…envy, jealousy as if I didn't know how I'd react if I saw you. Kate, for the first time in my life, after what had just happened, I didn't trust myself around you. I was determined to demand your whereabouts from Harrison if you had been, as I believed you were…sent back to Switzerland. I'd already contacted the school after I returned to our empty bedsit, but they gave me nothing, because they weren't allowed to tell me anything. Then they suggested you might be at The Hall. I thought maybe Annabelle had told someone… that we planned to run away together…'

'No,' Kate said, 'she was loyal to us both…'

Heath continued…

'When I finally saw the inside of that house, through the big lower floor bay window where you always used to sit and read, I saw Hunt's face, and Annabelle's, laughing. There was a puppy in your arms and you looked happy. Harrison and Frances seemed so… self-satisfied on the couch. Harrison was playing the "good husband" and talking amiably to Frances. I could hardly contain my…rage when I saw your beautiful, smiling face in the corner room looking outside.'

'I was looking…for you.'

'Well…I'm glad you didn't see me.' Heath said resignedly.

'I'm not glad.'

'When I saw Hunt come over and hand you a gift, something inside me, changed.'

'It was Christmas…tradition…'

'I gathered that. But it was unbearable to me. He…kissed you.'

'The party was celebrating my recovery. I could hardly walk after the ski trip. I'd been in a coma and I'd woken up…and you had been missing for so long.'

'I know. But the gloating look on Harrison's face and Hunt's obvious attraction to you, made me angry. I felt like killing him. You kissed him back, Kate.'

'I was acting. I had no choice.'

'I think you were happy with them… with the security Hunt provided for you in that moment …like that. It seemed to be what you had always wanted.'

There was a long silence that hung between them like ice.

'I vowed revenge.'

Kate nodded slowly.

'I have since thought… I may have been…partly…responsible. Heath, I called everywhere asking for you prior to the day of my marriage.'

'I was… not fit for company after that moment. I stayed watching you in the shadows, my anger slowly submerged into whatever is left of my soul, along with the happiness on your face.'

'Like I said, I was pretending. You must have turned away before Hunt carried me to the dining room table. But if you hadn't, you may have realised why I couldn't walk there myself. My foot was bandaged. It had nothing to do with love.'

Heath said, 'I thought you had made your choice.'

'Never, I spent days in the bedsit crying over you before Greta came and found me. I was whisked away to Switzerland that weekend, it's true. But I planned to find you the moment I could walk again.'

Kate looked down at her muddy boots. The horses, sheltered, were ready to move again.

Kate stood up.

Heath grabbed hold of her wrist.

'Leave him. I cannot be without you.'

'Nor I you,' Kate said. 'But I have made a promise and I cannot just walk out on that promise. Not right now.'

'What about your promise to me?'

'You left me. I can't just…abandon the family who have been good to me.' She paused, 'Please, will you come to dinner tonight? We can talk after Hunt has gone to bed. He knows I think of you … fondly.'

Heath laughed.

'Hunt will do anything, at the moment, to please me.'

'Anything? Why?'

He looked at Kate's face.

Kate blinked and sat down.

'I must have stood up too quickly,' she said.

He studied her more closely, blood rising in her cheeks. He'd seen this look before. A girl he'd hung out with in New York, a waitress who became a friend and worked in one of the clubs where he'd played had been dating a guitarist. After they left the club they got married and she had a child six months later.

Perhaps Heath knew Kate so well he knew before she did. She reached out her hand to him and pulled him close to her. His hearing had become extremely good since he'd turned. It was one of the advantages of becoming immortal. He sunk to his knees and pressed his head into her chest. He could hear conversations through walls so why not babies through skin? The two heartbeats pounded his ear as she slumped into him - Kate's and the heartbeat of her unborn child. He felt sick to his stomach and twice as betrayed as she attempted to take his hand.

'Please, come to dinner at The Grange. I have to see you again and I can't put off the dinner party I promised Annabelle we'd have. She will be thrilled that you are to be the guest of honour.'

He flinched and moved away from Kate as she moved closer.

'Annabelle? Is she still living here?'

'Yes, The Grange is half hers, Heath.'

'Oh,' Heath said, disinterestedly.

'She's finished her Art Course and has her first commission to paint some houses in this borough. She's staying with us for a few months.' Kate added.

Heath backed away from the woman he loved more than himself, with a blank expression. He wasn't ready to give her up.

'I'll be over in the car at about eight,' he said dispassionately. 'After all, Hunt should meet his new neighbour.'

**Chapter Twenty-three**

_**Return**_

The car was sleek and black. Heath loved it above the others. He'd made so much money these last few years, more than he could ever need or want and he was surprised it hadn't made him happy.

'_There is nothing in the world that will make up for a lack of real friends and family,'_ Greta said to him once, when he was a child. He knew it to be true as he slumped into his bath, took his plasma capsules and washed them down with red wine. He'd wolfed down a roasted pheasant when he returned from his meeting with Kate, his mind reeling.

The previous week, Harrison was asleep in a heap at the table when a knock on the door woke him. Most of the staff had left by the time Heath arrived at Hareton Hall. He was surprised he'd left for America without telling his sister about the house.

'What are you doing here?' Harrison slurred, surprised when Heath hovered at the doorstep.

'Come in,' Greta said, 'I was just leaving.'

Heath smiled quietly. Harrison could not prevent his entry now that he'd been formally invited in.

'I gave you six weeks to get out, Harrison. You can either stay on and look after the stables or take your stuff and leave.'

'How dare you? I haven't told my wife or Hinton…'

Unbeknownst to them, Harrison had been gambling in a disreputable part of the West End most evenings. Heath and some of his work colleagues had seen him going from one establishment to another until Heath himself had challenged him to a game of poker where the wager on the house had been set in front of at least a dozen witnesses. Still, Heath reasoned, he hadn't forced him to sign the legal documents. Harrison had done that of his own accord.

'Well, you'd better tell them soon. I just came to drop off some belongings and pick up my suit…'

'You mean my father's?'

'He was my father too.'

'Adopted,' Harrison added slyly.

'Yes, and the only father I have known…a quality you would know nothing about. I have no idea how you could possibly imagine I'd be your…blood relation. Oh, that's right, you knew I wasn't. Thank you for finally ruining our happiness. You never heard such a conversation as you detailed to me in that note…did you?'

'Of course not, mother wanted to leave. She knew father had not had an affair with your mother. It was not his way. He was honourable.'

Heath moved quickly this time. Though Harrison was tough he was amazed at the strength in Heath's hands as he had him in a headlock on the kitchen table. Then he moved closer and Heath (although drunk by midday as usual) swore he saw fangs emerge from the man's mouth and moaned and screamed for mercy as Heath threw him, using all the strength he had to resist savaging him, onto the footpath by the scruff of his neck, like an animal.

When Harrison relayed the story to his psychiatrist days later, the doctor recommended stronger medication.

Harrison had been so shocked, he could barely speak. When he did, it was more of a whisper as Heath detailed the terms of his ownership…

'You'll come to a bad end charity case… even with all your new money.'

Heath threw Harrison's suitcase on the landing outside the door.

'That's just the kind of statement I'd expect from a daylight drunk. You have a wife and a child to support. Maybe you should start thinking about how you're going to do that after going through father's millions. Face it Harrison, this day was always going to come…'

'Am I really supposed to believe that you did all this because you lost Kate?' Harrison bawled.

'I'm serving you notice, Harrison. Either accept my offer to stay on as groom until you find a job, something that goes above and beyond what is legally expected of me - and you, Frances and Hinton can have the cottage - or leave. You have two hours to decide.'

Heath brushed past him as he walked to his car.

Harrison banged his fist on the window as Heath placed the keys in the ignition.

'You really are something, aren't you, Heath Spencer. I did you a favour when I kept you away from Kate, when I insinuated the truth of your dubious heritage.'

'You mean, made it up. Yes, something I'm eternally grateful for. You know nothing about my history, as you put it, but the thought of having you as a blood relation made my stomach turn. I got tested. Kate and I share no biological relation but we have always been of like mind. Perhaps that is stronger than biology. All you did Harrison, was spend enough energy to keep Kate and me apart… for a while, but not forever.'

'She's married to someone else.'

'Not for long. Get your stuff and take it to the guest house. You're lucky Hinton's so young or I'd show no mercy and throw you out on the street.'

Harrison pitched a rock at Heath's car but the alcohol had damaged his balance and it missed, smashing a window of the house instead.

'You nearly hit me,' Heath said, rolling down the window. 'I'll add that to your debts, shall I?'

Harrison slumped to the gravel.

'It's mid-afternoon Harrison,' Heath said. 'Get yourself sobered up.'

'You…you clean yourself up!' Harrison bawled.

Heath heard the older man screaming at him as he drove off in his sleek sports car. Harrison wobbled out of the house with a shot gun that he was too drunk to point in the right direction. Threats hardly bothered Heath. He'd proved himself impervious to bullets. Heath considered feeling bad for Harrison as he drove off, but he couldn't. The years of cruelty Harrison had inflicted on him as a child made pity impossible. Now the captive would become the captor. He did not worry for his own soul or for Kate's anymore. Their fates were linked, he was sure of it.

**Chapter Twenty-four**

_**Dinner Party **_

Heath stayed in Hampstead that night, at the pub he later bought.

I had the dated receipt amongst his letters**.** Harrison had agreed to leave The Hall the next day. He'd delivered a note to Heath at the pub and was taking the family on a trip, with what remained of his assets. They would arrange to have their belongings collected. Heath was officially the owner of Hareton Hall and Harrison had finally woken up sober.

In any case, Heath did not wish to return to his home that night. He'd always liked the old pub overlooking the grounds of Hampstead Heath and had a notion, with his new found wealth, to buy it.

He pulled a Savile Row suit, newly tailored, from the wardrobe. Heath needed to look his best tonight. He showered, combed his hair, drank some Magenta and cleaned his teeth. There were few things that interested him less than fashion but he was determined to make an effort for this dinner party. He felt good to go as he grabbed his room key and walked down the stairs to his car.

Heath arrived at The Grange soon after to find it lit up magnificently. The Georgian house was as fine as Kenwood House but The Grange, being tucked behind a veil of trees, was more secure and not open to the public. It was the palace Heath and Kate had grown up alongside, but Heath thought, with some minor alterations, Hareton Hall would be grander.

The invitation was for a dinner party of sorts. Kate, Hunt, Annabelle and himself were to be the only guests.

Heath was the last to arrive.

Annabelle had spent hours getting ready that night. She wore a long, blue, figure hugging dress that reached to her ankles. To match her sparkling designer heels, she wore an expensive diamond necklace that had been handed down through generations of Hunts.

The round dining room table was set grandly as though they were entertaining a guest of honour rather than an old friend. The chandeliers were on full power and candles were lit in rows on the wall, highlighting the minimalist design. The interiorshad been recently renovated. It was a house that had always haunted Heath and compelled Kate.

When Heath rang the doorbell, expecting the butler or housekeeper to greet him, he was surprised that Kate opened the door herself and invited him in. She stood there, in a red velvet jacket, black jeans and fresh boots. Her hair hung in ringlets down her back and she looked like a girl who'd just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Kate's stomach was flat and there was not a hint of her pregnancy, although she realised she should probably have warned Heath about Katarina, since there were family photographs all over the lounge room.

'Being richer suits you,' Heath said, pushing past her and making his way into the hallway.

Kate looked at Heath and smiled, ignoring his insinuation. The girl greeted him like an old friend, a little too warmly to be a favourite brother and a little too enthusiastically for Hunt's liking.

Edmund Hunt, seated in the drawing room, was finalizing his applications to law school and reading over the notes he'd written. He had been warned by Kate to be civil. His marriage, still in its early days, was fragile. Their child, Katarina, lay sleeping upstairs. Kate had not mentioned her to Heath but her photographs were dotted all over the drawing room. Edmund Hunt, desperate to please his wife, was on his best behaviour. Hunt was aware that of the two of them, he was the one who loved more.

Edmund still couldn't believe Kate had agreed to marry him. He knew banning her from seeing Heath at this point would never work. Trying to convince Kate the man was beneath her would also be hopeless. Kate, although raised with generations of old money, had never really set aside her obsession with Heath. Hunt was aware that his money and class would never be enough to compete with Kate's childhood obsession. In Hunt's view, possession was nine tenths of the law and Kate was his now. Their soon to be born child made him sure of this.

Annabelle had dressed formally for the occasion, Kate noticed. Whilst it had recently been no surprise to see her in jeans and an old, paint-splattered shirt, her sister-in-law was dressed to kill. Belle had also spent the afternoon at the hairdresser's having her blonde hair foiled and waved in the latest celebrity style.

Kate worried about her, and not for the reasons Annabelle suspected. Jealousy was not an emotion Kate felt easily and certainly not in the direction of Annabelle. But she suspected, or really had always known that Annabelle remained infatuated with Heath. His contempt for all her sister-in-law stood for (inherited wealth, class distinction, the divide between him and Kate) would run deeper and extend to contempt for Annabelle.

Heath's pallor seemed tanned; his clothes were tailored and expensive. Annabelle had done some research and informed Kate that he owned companies all over town. Kate had barely listened. She was unimpressed by the way Heath had brought Harrison low, even though she knew how much Harrison deserved it.

Heath was dressed in a formal suit under a pure cashmere overcoat. Only Kate knew the scarf he wore was her own. To Annabelle, who was sitting in the bay window seat - the same place Kate had sat in when she was recovering after the skiing incident, waiting or rather pining for Heath - this would not register.

Heath thought Kate looked like a movie star as he hovered in the hall. He tried to ignore her as he casually glanced at the photographs on the walls. Annabelle shone in the background, but he paid her scant attention in that moment. When his eyes had finished glancing at Kate's infant daughter (she looked to be about one in the photograph), Heath glanced back at Kate, then Annabelle.

Kate withdrew to the kitchen as Annabelle raced up to Heath, enthusiastically. Heath stood formally in the hallway.

'Hello Annabelle.'

'Hello Heath,' Annabelle replied happily. 'May I take your coat?'

Normally, the butler would have done this, but Annabelle had been quick to the mark after Greta wished them all good night and given the staff the night off. Annabelle took Heath's scarf and placed it on the hall table not far from Katarina's baby picture which Heath appeared not to notice.

When Annabelle reached over to take Heath's coat, he turned around quicker than she anticipated. To her surprise and delight, just as she was going to greet him with the customary European air kiss on both cheeks, he kissed her on the mouth instead. Heath showed no expression as Annabelle blushed again and stumbled to the coat rack feeling as light as air.

The visitor smiled warmly. 'You are looking lovely tonight, Annabelle,' he said. Annabelle was excited to hear her name spoken in his velvet voice. 'It's been too long. I haven't seen you in years,' he added.

Annabelle smiled shyly and blushed at the warm greeting and unexpected compliment she had received.

'We thought you had forgotten us,' Annabelle said, pretending to be slightly put out as they walked through to the drawing room.

'Not exactly, I work in finance now. My work took me… to America.'

'I read about you in the paper today: financial wiz kid and all that. They posted a lot of details in the article. Apparently you are the most sought after bachelor in England. You should have stayed in touch,' Annabelle beamed.

'Well, the important thing is I'm back in touch now,' he said, staring directly into her eyes.

Annabelle continued, 'and then I read all about how much money you donate to charity…'

'For tax purposes,' Heath added modestly.

Annabelle ignored his response and whispered, 'I always knew you were a good person, Heath.'

Heath rolled his eyes when no one was looking and loosened his tie. His mouth watered when he smelled the steaks sizzling in the kitchen. Kate, dressed in an old-fashioned apron and playing chef, began to worry that trusting Heath to be civil tonight was a mistake. However, concerned she might lose contact with him altogether and unable to face the thought, she had hastily taken the risk to combine the three people now closest to her in the same room.

'I'm sorry not to have kept in touch, Annabelle. I suppose…real life gets in the way,' Heath added, changing the subject as Annabelle handed him a glass of red wine.

Hunt stood up when Heath entered the room as Kate re-introduced the men. They shook hands and talked about the stock market as Heath's gaze wandered, drinking in the family portraits.

During dinner, where Heath was most amiable to Hunt and Kate, it was as if the seductive kiss between him and Annabelle had never happened.

The first course was heating on the stove. Greta had left all the instructions as she departed but Kate kept getting up to check on everything. The table had been set perfectly and Heath recognised Greta's hand in all of the decorations. He knew Kate must have wanted the night to be perfect for some reason. Perhaps she somehow expected his re-introduction to the family would be a happy occasion.

Kate, who had been finalizing the sketches for Annabelle's play, had little to do with the domestic running of the house. She had been avidly researching the best food to serve at dinner parties…and the recipe for Heath's favourite dish of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

Heath walked into the kitchen, leaving brother and sister alone to chat after demolishing the first course of lobster soup. Heath offered to bring the plates and stack them in the sink. It was the first time he'd ever done menial work in a kitchen since Greta had allowed him to wipe the dishes as a six-year-old. He'd done it so badly she never asked him again. He disliked kitchen tasks but for tonight, he'd made an exception. He knew women actually liked men who pretended to be domesticated and he was keen to impress Annabelle. Heath found it funny because he thought Kate would have to be out of her mind to really be fooled by his act, but she played along.

Kate smiled, 'This is all going remarkably well, considering.'

'I'm not sure what you mean,' Heath said.

Kate leaned in and whispered, 'considering you hate my husband.'

Heath looked into her eyes, 'I don't hate him. The thought of him barely enters my mind. By the way, I saw the family portrait. How old is your daughter?'

'Katarina is just a toddler.'

'Don't you think I should meet her?'

'Not tonight. She's asleep.'

Heath shrugged. Kate sighed disbelievingly as she took the dinner plates from the top shelf above the stove. Heath looked on impatiently studying Kate's perfect curves as she retrieved various forks and spoons. The desire to plunge his retracted fangs into her neck, the curve in her arm, the crease behind her knee - demolish her altogether - was more intense than ever.

'Anything else I can do?' Heath asked standing close to her. 'I have to say, I thought Hunt would have more…staff.'

'Don't be stupid, Heath. Greta only comes in because I begged her not to leave me. Most of the servants quit ages ago. Hardly anyone in London has servants anymore. We barely afford the groom even though Hunt is, as you know, comfortable.'

Heath laughed.

'Is that meant to be a joke? '

Kate sighed. 'Of course I understand how fortunate we are. I volunteer at the local charity now.'

'Listen to you. You sound so…pious.'

'It's more than you've ever done.'

'True, but then I was born a little closer to the poverty line than you were and it's not a place I relished. Anyway, you needn't be so proud of your ability to marry well and your husband's ability to inherit money.'

'You think I married well? I thought you'd abandoned me Heath. What was I supposed to do? You disappeared for three years.' she whispered, wary that Annabelle and Edmund might hear.

'Yes, that was…unfortunate.'

'That's an understatement. If you need to blame someone, you should at least partly blame yourself.'

Heath reached for Kate when he was sure the others were in conversation in the other room. He leant in to her hair as he used to when they were younger and she hugged him, greedily, expectantly, wanting more.

Then, just as he contemplated kissing her perfect lips, he spoke.

'Oh Kate,' Heath shook his head. 'I'm just imagining what a boring little country wife you have become…'

Kate pushed him away.

'Stop it Heath, you're being horrible…'

Heath laughed softly.

'What did you expect when you invited me here?' he whispered.

'Why are we whispering? Never mind…' Kate stacked the pudding dishes. 'I just wanted us to have…'

'What,' he whispered, 'an evening reminiscing? Like the good old days! Did you hide the shot guns? Hunt can barely hide his disdain for having to dine with the help…'

'That's not fair, he's not a snob…he was…thrilled I'd invited you home.'

'I can't believe you're sticking up for him.' She was close to him now. He heard the heart beats and spoke out of turn, accusingly.

'You're pregnant aren't you? That's why you won't leave him,' Heath said as he transported the spoons to the tray.

'Heath…he's…'

'He's what? Your husband…the man you preferred to sleep with over me? The man you…love? Does he know you married him for his money, _because_ of a misunderstanding with me?'

'Now, you're being nasty…' Kate whispered, cautioning him with her intonation.

'Only now?' he replied.

Just then, Annabelle came wandering in, her long skirt floating into the room behind her as if she were part of an intangible mirage or some bizarre circus. She smiled at Heath, unable to contain her thrill at being in the same vicinity as this unknowable, beautiful man. The wind outside the kitchen windows groaned across the grounds of the estate. Winter air that had turned to a deep chill over the last few days warned them of the icy weather and snow soon to follow.

Heath felt the chill then smiled again at Annabelle. 'I don't miss the cold. America is warmer. By the way, I was just telling Kate how lovely you look tonight, Annabelle.'

'Thank you.' Annabelle said, clearly thrilled but obviously surprised to be complimented so publicly.

'I can see this is not going to be simple,' Kate said under her breath as she opened the oven door.

'Let me help you with that,' Heath said, obligingly. 'Kate was never one for the kitchen,' he said to Annabelle, 'and we wouldn't want you lifting anything heavy in your condition.'

Annabelle beamed, 'Isn't it exciting?'

'Very,' Heath said.

'Kate's told you…'

'I guessed,' Heath responded. The sound of the tiny heartbeat drummed in Heath's ears as soon as he was close to Kate. He wanted to savage her and was sated only by a double dose of Magenta before he arrived. Annabelle gazed at Heath warmly. She was thinking what an amiable and successful man he had become.

Hunt, sitting at the dining room table patiently, was closing the half opened window as Kate returned with the gravy boat.

'Darling, I told you we should have kept the staff tonight,' he said, deluded about the rising cost of living.

'It's just friends, Edmund. I didn't want anything to be formal.'

Now it was Edmund's turn to roll his eyes.

'I rather think I would have sooner entertained a rapper or a recently paroled dealer…'

'Shh…' Kate said. 'Heath is a guest… he's family.'

'He's not _my_ family,' Hunt said as Heath entered the room. It wasn't his style to pretend not to hear, to play the upper class games Kate's family were raised playing, but for tonight he would make an exception. All would continue along smoothly, for the moment.

They talked of old school acquaintances and the stock market. Edmund, steadied by Katherine, had been warned not to discuss the missing years of their lives.

Hunt boasted of Kate's brief but shining design of the classic play being talked about in the London theatre world and congratulated Heath on his obvious business successes.

'Yes,' Heath said, 'and, I'm sure Kate has told you, I'm…as of three minutes ago… the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

Hunt raised his eyebrows and looked shocked. Then he looked directly at Kate.

'Darling, you never told me this.'

Kate looked surprised. 'I only just found out…'

'Harrison lost it in a bet…and now, it's mine…' Heath added as Annabelle scooped raspberry coulis over her ice-cream. Not entirely oblivious to the family drama, she looked up wide-eyed. It was exciting that Heath was to be their newest neighbour. She would get to see him regularly. And now that Kate was married, her sister-in-law couldn't resent their friendship. Annabelle smiled warmly at Heath over her pudding. Heath looked at the raspberry sauce and imagined drinking her blood.

'But I thought… Oh, I still have a few of the pictures I was commissioned to make, left to do…of the Hall…'

'And you shall,' Heath added jubilantly.

Kate looked up, 'Would anyone like coffee?' she asked, trying to change the subject.

'Yes, please,' Heath said. 'I find myself absolutely starving for pudding, and I never eat sweets. That must have been the finest meal you've ever cooked tonight, Kate. What an excellent little wife you've made…the second time around,' he said condescendingly.

Hunt stared at him. 'We didn't ask you here to insult us,' he said.

'Mmm,' Heath replied, 'well, you didn't ask me here at all, did you?'

'Heath,' Kate cautioned.

'No, it must be said, out with it. Kate's _my_ wife now, not yours.'

Heath just looked at him and laughed.

'Yes, well, I can see by the light on her wedding ring - nearly knocked me out when we ran into each other riding yesterday. Oh, that's right. You weren't wearing one, were you?' Heath said sarcastically.

Kate shook her head.

'Let's all go into the drawing room and have a drink,' Annabelle suggested.

'Actually,' Heath announced as he stood up, 'I find I'm tired after all my…acquisitions today.' He looked straight at Kate, then at Annabelle.

'I trust you know you will be welcome at Hareton Hall anytime, Annabelle, to finish your paintings and photographs. The same goes for my new neighbours. Perhaps we could go riding again soon Kate.'

Kate looked up. In the still and without distractions, he could read her mind, _'Don't…'_ she thought, _'don't tell him…that I love you more…even after the fact that you've succeeded in making a fool out of me tonight…'_

Hunt looked at Kate, surprised she had already been socializing with this man who he had feared, it must be said, admired yes, and as a school boy, hated… Though now, he felt a slight twinge of pity for the person who was so evidently in love with what was his.

Later that night, Kate lay awake, reading one of her favourite novels, _Jane Eyre_. She read about the delusional woman in the attic, the first wife and wondered how much of the crazy it took to send a woman mad. Her husband had tossed and turned after Heath left but he had no inkling of the power Heath had over her, of how torn she now was. Underneath, she longed to be only with Heath.

That was how little Edmund understood her.

And who knew? Maybe it was a marriage of convenience, just as Heath had insinuated. Their partnership was a merge of her finances and Edmund's property. But what choice did she have back then?

Kate lay awake for hours in the dark, thinking about Annabelle's loving glances towards Heath at the dinner table. It would be a lie to say, as she tossed and turned all night, she didn't have any inkling what Heath might do next.

**Chapter Twenty-five**

_**Scholarship - Present Day**_

Slowly, Katarina and Hinton became friends.

WhenKatarina arrived at Hareton Hall at nine in the morning to help Hinton revise his written applications for the Art prize, she felt a pool of excitement in the pit of her stomach. She could hardly wait to see him again. Hinton had confided in her that he thought his written skills were lacking and Katarina had offered to help him present, "the best possible version of himself", as she put it. He had readily accepted and together they made a first draft.

The Hall, once the grandest of houses, had creeping plants growing from its foundations now, as if it were slowly crumbling from the inside. Over the past few months, the wiring needed fixing, the swimming pool had grown thick with leaves, the tennis court was left untended and the stables were nearly empty. The owner had become more and more reclusive.

Hinton didn't want to tell her why he'd felt a desire stronger than any natural one to drink blood. It was a one in ten thousand possibility, according to Heath's specialist, but somehow his condition matched that of his adopted parent. A trace had been done and it seemed somehow Hinton and Heath shared the same affliction.

Their lineage, a distant, improbable vampire link, was not all they had in common. Hinton and Heath shared a desire to feed, a fear of the sunlight and their own fading images in mirrors. Heath's was now an outline and soon there would be nothing. Today, Hinton's image in the hallway mirror had dulled considerably. Instead of a medallion, Hinton wore a signet ring that Heath had given him when he was small, to protect him from the sun. Hinton resolved not to focus on the negatives of his condition.

The winner of the scholarship was due to receive an apartment and a small stipend abroad. Prague would be darker and rainier than many places and Hinton quite liked the idea of that kind of weather, for obvious reasons. He wanted to get away. Still, only one person from the whole college would be chosen on the strength of their exhibit.

Katarina had insisted on taking him in her new car for lunch in Hampstead High Street. Her father had bought the car for her as a bribe for choosing to study in London instead of travelling far from home. Previously, the thought of Katarina leaving him was something her loving father had found nearly impossible to bear. Katarina, having recently turned eighteen, was experiencing a freedom she had longed for after passing her driving test. The girl was yet to tell her father that she had become friendly with Heath, Linus and Hinton. That was an "off limits" conversation.

It was a beautiful day, rare and summery, like the ones her father had told her about when she was first born. In those days, when she was a child, she vaguely remembered her young mother taking her to Hampstead Heath for picnics. Her studious father would hold her hand, walk her across the road and teach her to ride. When she was old enough she rode park trails on her pony and later, her horse. By the time she was a teenager, she'd become an expert, riding properly in various events on Hero's Daughter.

When Katarina asked about her mother's family, all her father told her was that he'd never been fond of Heath as a child. He grew up with nannies and in boarding schools as men of his class and in his generation did but repeatedly told Katarina he loved her - something his own family had never said to him. Katarina knew this was true and that he meant well. He had tried not to burden her with this now adult concept of his quiet, contained, isolated youth but one day he told his daughter something that surprised her.

'I never saw my parents show any affection to one another,' he told Katarina when they were out riding together.

'Something of an overshare, Papa,' she'd replied.

Katarina realised how different her upbringing had been from her father's.

How strange and quiet the heath had become in winter, her father thought, when he first bundled this little girl up and took her for long walks to Kenwood House. As she grew older, and had her own nanny, the family would often go for picnics in the grounds of the heath. Though the gardens of their own house were magnificent, Hunt wanted Katarina to have the normal childhood that had eluded him, or as normal as it was possible for her to have, so he took her exploring.

Being in his daughter's company pleased Edmund Hunt endlessly. He remembered so many dinners with his own father, separated by an expanse of dining room table. He was never allowed to chatter during meals. He determined to raise Katarina differently. Together they played a game called… _What if? _From the time Katarina could talk she was encouraged to ask questions: '_What if the world was coloured pink? What if the grass was blue? What if Mummy hadn't left?'_ This question ended the game. There were some questions Hunt wouldn't answer.

As she grew older he worried for her and for himself. His daughter was sweet-natured and generous. She had gifted him further understanding of the world beyond his front door. Katarina made Hunt see life for what it was, rather than in isolation and in relation to his needs and those of his family. He knew he loved her so much he would never be able to say "no" to her and dreaded the day she would ask him for something he could not or did not wish to give her.

Like the truth.

The morning Katarina and Hinton decided to drive over to Hampstead High Street, the place, busy with post-Christmas bargain hunters, was busy. Together they sat in the French patisserie and ordered coffee, sandwiches and sweet cakes. Hinton barely ate in her presence and when he did, he picked the chicken off his plate and chewed that first.

'Do you know why our families don't speak?' Katarina asked as she stirred sugar into her latte.

'Age old feud,' Hinton said. 'I think Linus knows the whole story. I only know my version of it. I'm sure your father would have a different account of what happened.'

'He wouldn't be happy if he knew we were all in contact, that's for sure. But I'm so glad you and Linus and I are friends.'

'Is that what we are?' Hinton looked at her quickly, wondering for a moment if she would say something more.

In response, Katarina looked into his eyes as Hinton took her hand. His fingers were pleasantly cool.

'I want to…thank you for helping me so much.'

Hinton slipped a tiny packet in the saucer of her tea cup. The envelope contained a delicate, gold bracelet with the initials KH carved on the inside. It must have cost Hinton at least a month of the wages he'd earned, working at the pub.

Katarina smiled as Hinton helped her to fasten the clasp around her wrist.

'Thank you,' she said, finishing her toast. Then she did something that surprised him. Katarina leant over and kissed him with her honey lips.

Hinton's face flushed red. He wasn't really sure what to say next. He'd dated girls, lots of them, but he'd never felt for anyone the way he felt for Katarina. He shyly took her hand and kissed it.

They had been reading together every day. Heath still got the odd word the wrong way round, but had improved considerably. He was sure the extra study he did with the tutor he'd hired (encouraged by Katarina) had gone a long way to making words much easier for him to read. His world had opened up and he was less afraid of what the future held when she was near. He didn't want to let go of her fingers.

'Over these months …you helped me to have some confidence, not just in reading, but in…myself.'

Katarina was speechless. She had looked forward to every moment she spent with Hinton walking through Hampstead and working together in the studio in Soho. He dreaded what he had to tell her so instead he passed her some documents.

'You need to read something,' Hinton said, 'before you decide if you want to…be my girlfriend…'

Katarina smiled, it was the first time he'd used that word. Then she frowned, what possible barrier stood in the way of this, her first real romance?

Hinton passed her his medical records.

'You need to be aware,' he said, 'that I'm not…normal.'

Katarina looked at him quizzically, unsure of the correct response. Hinton got up and left the coffee shop as Katarina opened the cover of the first folder marked: **Type A Requirements**.

Later that day, Hinton was in the college studio, quietly painting. He had a small supply of Magenta that he kept in the student common room kitchen in a flask. He quietly sucked on lunch through a straw. Since he'd turned twenty-one his desire for human blood had been overwhelming but this daily treat of Magenta kept it at bay. Vampiricism was another reason he and his uncle both liked and loathed each other.

Heath had been the first to identify him as a fellow bloodsucker. Hinton had been so full of self-loathing he was almost glad Harrison and Franny had never lived to see him develop from hybrid to vampire. Harrison had drunk himself to death in his early thirties and his wife, Frances, had been killed in a nightclub in Paris at the age of twenty-six. That's how Hinton wound up with Heath. It was discovered Heath and Frances (remarkably) shared a supernatural gene. Although Heath had not been biologically related to Harrison or Kate, he was a very distant cousin (two hundred years removed) to Frances and Hinton.

Hinton didn't share Heath's passion for chicken but he gnawed on a cooked chop that had been specially marinated, pan fried and wrapped in foil. He'd left Katarina with the open folder on her desk and didn't want to think about what her reaction might be.

Hinton painted freely. He was sure with brush strokes in a way that he had never been with words. He disliked any form of authority but was aware of his need to improve his basic reading skills. He was embarrassed to be this age, to be this bright (he had no trouble comprehending the world and had a photographic memory for numbers and people's names…), yet to still be such a terrible reader was confronting. He'd long ago accepted his daily need for blood but he was ashamed of his lack of education. He'd stuttered as a child and somehow he'd overcome this affliction in his teens. If Katarina believed in him, he felt sure, with her help, he could overcome his wicked desires.

He liked the solitude of the studio, deep in the quiet hub of the empty Art College.

Nobody was here late in the afternoon and there was not a soul to suggest changes to what he was creating. He thought of Katarina and checked the messages on his mobile; nothing. He wondered what she was thinking but didn't want to press her until she had fully digested what the words in that folder meant.

They'd been working on abstract expressionism in class, but for the first time in weeks Hinton's brush seemed to have a mind of its own as he removed the drying artwork from his desk and set to work on a blank canvas attached to a wooden easel.

He sketched the outline from a photograph taken on his mobile but then he relied on the memory of her perfect face. As if writing a first draft, he sketched with abandon, adding the base with great ease and little emphasis on detail. But then, as the hours wore on, and afternoon became evening, he built the intricate shades of colour that became skin on his subject's neck. The textures made him uneasy. Still, with no answer from the girl, his first layer of the image was becoming more complex, like a photograph of Katarina's face. Hinton leaned in and painted two perfect red dots on the paper frail skin above her collar bone. Then he bowed his head in his hands and sighed.

That afternoon, Katarina re-read Hinton's file.

It was less shocking than she'd suspected.

The word 'blood' stood out in all its satin, red stained essence.

The description of Hinton's "type" was unusual but not conclusive. For years now, there had been talk in the press about a rogue species; human-vampires. Born with a weak strain of vampiricism, they developed fully over a period of time and into adulthood. It was different for males and females. The females could linger for up to twenty years in hibernation and it was impossible to tell the difference between hybrids and human beings. Katarina had not taken as much notice as she should have but she remembered these details from a recent article on the web.

She wanted to discover as many facts as she could; she wanted to find out what this strain meant for them and how she could help. Regardless of words on paper, Hinton was still Hinton. Katarina realized this as she read the doctor's dramatic introduction: _he may not sleep at night, he may not wish to eat…it may be possible he lives far beyond the years of normal humans… _The words "immortality", "bloodsucker", "vanished", "feeding", "type A", "hunger", "forever", jumped out at her on the page. Katarina resolved to do some more research that evening.

Upon waking, after Katarina had had a few hours' sleep and the enormity of Hinton's condition had set in, Hinton would be greeted with the message - **it's okay. I love you and that doesn't change. I want to help in any way possible. Meet you tomorrow afternoon Hareton Hall. **

Katarina was determined to finish her Art folio the next day (of a series of photographs of Hareton Hall) using different levels of light. The girl also intended to start reading the files and finish the journals. She knew there was a secret that went beyond Hinton. The hush ran through the family. There had been whispers of a human-hybrid species for years in the media, but no one she ever knew had met an actual vampire; whole or hybrid. They kept to themselves, or maybe they just hid in the shadows.

Hinton, in retrospect, had displayed all the symptoms she'd researched on the web upon waking. His specialist had scrawled in the files… 'The young man has cravings for protein, then citrus, then…animal blood…which may develop upon adulthood as a craving for humans…' Katarina looked away. Further details were in the files that she forced herself to read.

The boy displayed a nocturnal instinct as a child. He'd tried to bite his own mother (at birth) and she had declared him 'impossible' to raise.

It was true. Hinton had gravitated towards Heath as a child. His sister, Frances, had stayed at the Hall briefly until she fled to Paris. Harrison had been discovered trying to beat Hinton with a stick, before he drank himself into oblivion. That part was true; it was like history repeating itself.

Katarina was surprised as she read the social worker's reports sitting in the car. Her desire to help and protect Hinton grew stronger with every sentence.

**Chapter Twenty-six**

_**Secrets**_

When Katarina arrived at The Hall the next afternoon, Heath was out riding and no one answered the door. Since she'd never met her mother as an adult, she relied on the memories of others. In her bag, she kept her fine cashmere scarf, and longed for more information about the woman in the photographs. Katarina knew there were many images of the young Kate in the boxes hidden in the cupboard. The man who had loved her, perhaps as much as her father (if not more), kept these images tucked away, hidden, along with her mother's memory.

Katarina got out of her car. She wore a scarlet coat today and the fierce, biting air made her catch her breath as she walked up to the house. Her dark curls fell in ringlets down her back. The girl took out her mother's old-fashioned film camera. The camera took amazing photographs and she wanted the particular effect film could create. Katarina snapped The Hall in the morning light, from a distance, then close up on the door handle as the gargoyles threatened her.

There was an eerie creak, ever present, when Katarina tiptoed into the house.

Heath suddenly stomped in through the kitchen, taking off his muddy boots in the larder.

'Who's there?' he bawled.

'Just me,' Katarina said softly.

'Oh,' he replied, 'I'd forgotten you were coming. Don't go to the top floor…renovations,' he grumbled, hurrying upstairs to shower and change.

'I just wanted to take your picture…'

'No…' he replied quickly.

He'd always refused to have his photograph taken. It would be a pointless exercise but Katarina was not to know that. She had begun to get used to his mercurial personality and shrugged to herself as she wandered through The Hall. Tucked in a corner, she discovered the Blue Room, which was lit with soft lights, chandeliers hanging from the roof and a hall of mirrors. It was so amazing it had once been featured in architectural magazines.

The girl wandered through the room catching sight of Heath ushering his dog out of the library. As Katarina glanced into the wall of reflections, hers was there but Heath's was missing. Of course, Katarina thought. The strangeness filled her world.

Katarina was nervous, but as she created art by snapping photographs, her nerves disappeared. By mid-morning, it helped that she had not seen a vision of the woman who'd appeared the night of the storm, nor had she heard her. Silence was littered by the sound of paper being ripped and thrown in the rubbish bin once Heath returned from walking the dog. There was a ray of light under the door of Heath's library and Katarina got the feeling he did not wish to be disturbed.

Minutes later, the silence was marked by the loud noise Katarina made, as she unlocked her mother's bedroom with Hinton's key. Inside, the room was all but empty. It was like a danceless ballroom with billowing long curtains in place of skirts and open windows and a wet floor where the rain had swept in, for company. As she stood, breathless, sensing a visitor apart from herself, Katarina heard a chewing sound and a striped boiled sweet wrapper fell from the ceiling onto her hair, like a feather.

Immediately, Katarina looked up; nothing. She noticed the floor around her feet was littered with discarded candy wrappers. They had dropped from the shadows in the roof. Katarina peered closer. In the corner of the large room there was a pile of messy, muddied, riding clothes. The jodhpurs and a jacket appeared to have been recently worn and discarded. As Katarina went to touch the fabric, a bird screeched outside the window. Katarina jumped. She wanted to take a closer look inside the room when she heard a voice behind her and a man took her arm.

'I told you not to go in here,' Heath said.

He was standing to her right, fully dressed for the office.

'Whose clothes?'

Heath led her out of the room.

'Please…just ignore what you see here. Most of it is…old washing. Greta must have left it. I've made us some tea.'

Katarina was so stunned she followed meekly. The interior of the room loomed behind like a secret as they walked downstairs.

Heath seemed oblivious to the anomalies of Hareton Hall. In the kitchen, he was more interested in demolishing the honey soy chicken drumsticks Greta had left sealed in a dish. He ate at least three of these while Katarina stood there, sipping tea, even though it was barely mid-morning.

They observed the view from the parlour of a now famous statue of one of their ancestors (an author or poet, no doubt, Katty thought) that was all but obscured behind a fence. Occasionally, tourists stopped by in summer to take photographs. Sometimes the iron gates would open quicker than they realised and usher those same tourists out of the way. Who knows what these tourists had really seen through the windows.

'I never planned to open the house and grounds up to the public, but with the worldwide financial situation, my advisors convinced me it was the smart thing to do. I want this house to stay in the family…forever,' he added quietly.

Katarina changed the film in her camera as they sat at the table watching day turn to dusk.

'May I?' Katarina took Heath's photograph as he turned to take his car keys from the fruit ball. The crystal bowl was full of peaches and Italian oranges.

'Hinton told me you know our secret. You must have worked it out by now. You can take as many photographs of me as you like. The images won't come out. I have to go to my office, there's something going on at work. Greta is coming around soon. Don't return to the rooms upstairs. They're locked now. Just shut the door when you leave,' Heath said, offering no further explanation. Not fond of idle chit chat, he stood up and walked away.

Katarina was left to ponder her predicament. Then she remembered that Hinton told her he used to scale the wall to his room when he was a child.

Katarina wandered outside. The gardens grew wild. According to her mother's journals, they were once perfectly manicured. Although now unkempt, they appeared lusher than any of her mother's recollections. The wind began to howl as Katarina followed the path from the surrounding grounds of the estate, towards the lap pool (covered in a blanket of leaves) and past the stables. Katarina noticed a few security cameras which unnerved her, but there were no lights on, so she assumed like everything else, they were in a state of disrepair. It was remarkable how useless the cameras would be in tracking the real inhabitants of the estate, Katarina thought, but then she supposed that was not the reason they were installed. At the gates, beyond the stables, Katarina saw her first sign of human life.

There was an elderly groom working with a horse - the other horse remained under cover. Both animals were black and sleek with sweat. It was obvious Heath had not been out riding alone.

'Good Afternoon, Miss. Katarina isn't it?' he mumbled, looking at her quizzically, as if he'd seen a ghost.

'Good Afternoon,' Katarina replied.

'I'm George. I've been working for the Spencers… forever. Greta said you'd be coming. She got held up at her meeting. She collects her grandson from his pre-school on Fridays…'

'Oh,' Katarina said. 'That's okay. The…owner has given me permission to take photographs over there.'

George shook his head as she walked towards the garden. Seconds later, rain started to spit from the sky and Katarina found herself standing near the outside wall that led to the upper floors of the house, contemplating how to climb it.

She'd forgotten it was Friday; she'd promised Linus and Hinton that she'd meet them for dinner tonight. Katarina would have to be quick. She would also try to act as normally as possible with Hinton. They hadn't had a moment alone to talk and Katarina wasn't sure what to say, but she knew she had less and less recollection of her real life outside the family she was beginning to understand. She glanced over her shoulder. George was nowhere to be seen. Quickly, she climbed the wall, using the strength and muscles she'd developed from years of riding. When Katarina reached the window, she lifted the glass easily and crawled through the dusty ledge, landing on her feet inside her mother's old room.

She looked above her, to the roof of the room. It was empty. There was nothing except chandeliers. Then she walked to the hallway and up the stairs. They creaked with every step she took. The girl was compelled to walk higher, to the forbidden floor. Linus had told her where Heath had stashed the keys and she retrieved them from his desk.

When Katarina reached the attic, the door was slightly ajar. The curtains were open and blowing in the wind. Rain splayed the sill. The door did not creak when she pushed it further. The rain stopped; birds sang. Outside, a rainbow appeared. She stood silent as the door quietly closed behind her, untouched.

It was quieter and lighter up here than she imagined. There were no cobwebs. In the corner lay another pile of girls' clothes, used and unused, thrown into a washing basket. At the top of the pile lay the same bunch of riding clothes, recently worn. There were boots with fresh mud on them discarded in the corner of the room.

Kate looked at the carpet; no footprints. Then she looked at the window sill. Mud dripped upon it. An exaltation of larks outside the window announced her intrusion.

The fine hairs on Katarina's arms stood up. When she tried to take a photograph through the closed window, the black covering in her camera froze. The birds hushed and through the silence, Katarina heard only the softness of her breathing and her beating heart. She sighed and leaned into the bar nailed on to the attic wall. It occurred to her then that the whole room had been converted into some kind of ballet studio. There were floor length mirrors along one entire wall. The roof of Hareton Hall loomed above her like one of the great baroque ceilings she'd seen in Italy on a school trip. Only the outside scenery, the wrought iron gate, fragile in the mist, placed her at Hareton Hall as opposed to some kind of Netherworld.

Just then, a bird flew in through the window, startling Katarina who crouched onto the floor. A scream rang out before she realized it was hers. When Katarina stopped screaming, the sound of another breath took over.

Slowly, slowly, Katarina raised her head until she looked directly above her. Hovering in the roof beams was a young woman. Sleeping, eyes closed, hair matted across her eyes, her face was obscured. She was curled up in pink cotton pyjamas and seemed no older than twenty-one although it was difficult to tell in the dark. The tiny hint of a corner cobweb touched the edge of her hair. Her arms were folded across her chest. She was cocooned in a pink, mohair blanket.

Katarina's scream woke her and the hybrid girl somersaulted down from the rafters. In a split second she back flipped off the high beam and landed on her feet. The young woman, a mirror image of Katarina, opened her eyes where she landed. Then she stood and drank in Katarina's face as if she could hardly believe the vision was real. With the threat of tears in her eyes, the beautiful hybrid uncrossed her arms and reached out her hand. She walked towards Katarina with an open palm. In the same moment, her image disappeared into shadows, leaving nothing but air.

The objects in the attic - an antique hairbrush, some ballet shoes in a basket, a used pink towel with cream lace edging, more wrappers of lollipops and sweets - also disappeared in that moment. The only thing Katarina had left was a memory. She stood frozen. Katarina felt sure no one would believe her if she told them what she saw. The girl's face had been identical to her own.

The teenage girl backed out of the room then turned and ran down the stairs, two at a time. Her camera strap was still wrapped around her wrist and she heard the snap in sunlight as the film started automatically, winding again.

George, the groundsman, hovered at the front door.

'The master won't be happy about you wandering through the house alone.'

'He gave me permission to take photographs,' Katarina sniffed. 'Besides, he's not my master!' Katarina added. 'Nor yours. Do you… Do you know what… _who_ is in this house?

George raised his eyes and pulled some leaves out of the rake he held.

'Yes.' He spoke in a thick, Northern accent. Katarina could still hear the high, sweet voice of a Lark, singing in the rafters.

'Did you hear that?' Katarina asked aloud.

He nodded. 'There's been talk of… bloodsuckers here for years. Some like to refer to them as ghosts…makes people feel better I suppose. It's because they're up all night,' he added. The pretty tune stopped and all that remained was the noise of George's rake, as if he'd already forgotten what he said.

Reality seemed to elude all who visited The Hall, except her. Katarina felt sure the secrets held the key to the mystery of her family. The vampire girl in the roof was similar to her and to…her mother. Katarina needed answers.

George simply stared into the distance.

Katarina waited on the front steps. Greta had texted to apologise and re-schedule. It was all that kept Katarina from running away forever. It was late in the day by then and already the sun was setting.

'They say memory is something that exists in a person's mind forever; we just have to know how to unlock it when we forget something.' George said out of the blue.

'You must have a lot of memories of this place,' Katarina replied.

'Oh yes, Miss. What I have seen… ' he sighed as he walked towards the shed.

**Chapter Twenty-seven**

_**The Girl in The Attic**_

Hinton had a bad feeling. He texted Katarina and they agreed to meet in the Glass House. They could go to dinner at The Grange after they'd had a chance to speak. At least outside was safer and, still needing more external shots of the heath in twilight, Katarina lifted the latch of the iron gate. The entrance to the private garden was the exact place she had read about in her mother's journal.

The gate led to a maze that in turn spilt into an abandoned part of the heath. Katarina wore her walking boots as she rambled in her rolled up jeans, a long coat and scarf draped around her shoulders. As the winter evening closed in on her, Katarina buttoned up her coat and pulled the belt tight around her tiny waist. The young girl walked towards the now private arboretum, largely abandoned in winter and known only to those who lived close by. The directions had been detailed in her mother's journal. Her father had taken her there, only once, as a child.

The wind howled and Katarina's camera tossed and whipped around her wrist. She suddenly wished she'd modernized her instrument. If she'd had a passion for digital, the camera would not be so heavy or so much trouble.

Almost immediately and without warning, the air had turned to pre-snow iciness. Katarina could see her breath and soft flecks of powder fell around her feet. Autumn had been so unpredictable this year. As ice began to spit from the sky, Katarina stumbled inside the shelter.

The glass house, located behind a woodland meadow, had been restored in recent years. It was so beautiful that she resolved to take Hinton here. When Katarina thought of Hinton, she smiled. Their tutoring sessions had started playfully enough but then Hinton seemed to improve exponentially. She was certain his initial unfriendliness towards her had been related to his secrets and not his arrogance. It was a wonder Hinton was the person he was, when she considered how many challenges he had had - the loss of his parents, the discovery of his rare needs. She was proud of him. Hinton had the courage to seek acceptance however weird and bizarre his lineage.

Somehow, everything would work out. There was a quote from a Shakespearean sonnet she had read at school that came to mind: _Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds… O no! It is an ever-fixed mark / That looks on tempests and is never shaken…_

The deep thrill she felt inside at the merest thought of seeing him again was unlike anything she had experienced. She wondered if he felt the same and hoped that he did.

Katarina knew for certain that her father would not be happy about her connection to the Spencers, and would never have encouraged their meeting in the first place. In just a few weeks, the course of her life had altered completely. Katarina felt sure of her decision to support Hinton as she sat in the garden seat waiting for him.

Her breath was visible on the glass now. It was heating up as Katarina waited patiently for Hinton who had just texted her to say he was on his way. She unwound her scarf, took off her woollen snood and pulled off her gloves. As she did so, she dropped one of them on the ground and reached to pick it up.

Hadn't Linus, taking into account his stupid theatrical superstitions, once told her, that, "in the theatre a lady should never retrieve her own glove. Instead, she should wait for another to pick it up for her." Katarina, knowing how silly this seemed, reached down for the glove but couldn't find it in the shadows.

Finally, hunched under the chair and looking for the glove, she was confronted with the words of ancient lovers - or they seemed ancient to her.

At the base of the tree, behind the arboretum chair were the words HEATH & KATE 1988 carved into the growing wood. Like a child, Kate wound her fingers over the engraving, forgetting all about her missing glove in the process. An onlooker might have thought the glove had simply disappeared or been taken by a ghost. Outside, the wind drove a branch into the glass wall which frightened Katarina and made her turn around suddenly to see a grown man in a long coat, standing, illuminated by lightening in the darkness.

'Hinton can't come,' Heath said.

Katarina looked up so quickly she slipped and Heath moved and caught her by the arm.

'I came home from the city to collect a file I left. George said you'd be here.'

'I…I was just…'

'Tutoring Hinton? Yes, he told me. He's certainly improving. Well, anything would be an improvement. That boy's spelling is atrocious and no tutor I've paid has ever done anything for him.' Heath seemed annoyed. 'George told me you've been…inside the attic, taking photographs. Good luck, the images won't develop.'

It was time for a little bit of honesty, Katarina thought, as they both walked outside to her Uncle's sleek, waiting car.

'Never mind, there is honour in the attempt,' Katarina said. Heath walked quickly and Katarina asked directly, 'Who is the girl in the attic?'

Heath paused for a moment and then responded. 'She is a hybrid, a human transitioning into a vampire who has lived at Hareton Hall longer than me. There were complications with her transition. It has taken longer than expected. You must know there is strangeness in this… family'

'Yes. So I've gathered. I've been told some things about Hinton. But, I'm not just his tutor. I'm his friend. And it's pretty obvious Hareton Hall is haunted.'

Heath smiled at the use of her old fashioned word.

'The house has always attracted comment,' was all he added.

The sleek Jaguar was waiting on the other side of the park and they seemed to reach the car in double quick time as Heath hurried Katarina along.

'Get in,' Heath said as he reversed the car. 'Listen to me. Hinton is a player. He doesn't have friends who are girls.'

Katarina looked at him sharply. 'Well, he does now.'

There was silence for a moment as Heath digested this.

Katarina changed the subject. 'Is that why I can't see your breath?'

Heath was lost for words for the first time as they drove through the winding road towards her house. He did not answer her question directly. 'Now, there's a bit more of your mother in you,' he responded. 'You can't see my breath… because it's not cold enough.'

'You could see mine. Why is there a… girl in the attic?'

Katarina looked down, jealous that he knew so much more about the cocooned hybrid than she did.

'What do you mean?'

'She looked like me, sleeping on the ledge, and I look like my mother.'

'Katarina… you're imagining things. I can take you there now and the attic will be empty. Yes, it has been said the girl haunts the house but you have to forget this. It will bring you no comfort. You can never touch her or speak to her… or even see her properly. I know Linus took you to one of his wild parties. I can only imagine what they get up to there. You're not…on anything are you? I mean anything that might make you hallucinate.'

'No,' Katarina said quickly.

'Ah… there's the fire.'

'What do you mean?'

'The fire that your mother had in her personality.'

Katarina cringed. 'Is that why you liked her?'

'I, I suppose so,' Heath said.

'Are you going to tell me the truth?'

'I'm going to try, but not now.' he responded.

'When?'

'Soon. In the meantime, read your mother's journal. I know you have it.'

Katarina glanced at Heath incredulously.

The man didn't want to talk any more tonight. This girl was half his age, far too young to understand the depth of his feelings for her mother. He was in no mood for explaining the supernatural. Not now. He was tired; a long day trading stocks and shares will do that to a man.

He was also concerned that the cousins were getting close. It wasn't meant to happen like this, so far out of his control. His son had been given instructions to befriend then dump her, and it wasn't really going to plan now that Hinton had taken it further and just left it at "befriend her". Didn't he realise how much Heath hated her father? How little they owed the Hunts? It was time to end this stupid game.

Heath pulled up suddenly.

'Where are we going?' Katarina asked.

'To The Grange, your father is expecting you. I called him. The dinner date has been cancelled. Hinton and Linus sent me to tell you. Neither of them could get away from having to work late.'

They drove in silence, the short way, before arriving at the gravel driveway of The Grange.

'Would you like to come inside?' Katarina offered. 'It's very warm and cosy compared to The Hall.'

Heath contemplated her offer for a moment. 'I suppose you would think that. But I went to dinner at The Grange once and the atmosphere just about froze ice.'

Katarina looked startled.

'The snow seems to have settled, go on then. You're safe to walk up the path. I'll stay here until you've gone inside.'

Katarina slammed the door loudly as she got out of Heath's car.

Heath was quite annoyed at himself. This young girl was making him less brash, kinder. It didn't suit him at all, and she'd discovered Kate's hiding place and the glass house, which was irritating. How long before she discovered even more secrets?

Once again, Heath didn't like the thought of her becoming too close, though it was his desire that she and Hinton… well, ultimately he wanted The Grange and it hadn't been on the market, ever. Katarina was heir. It was important his plan proceed. Heath was glad she hadn't acknowledged the tree markings he and Kate had carved on that bitterly cold afternoon. It was so long ago now. The girl must have seen them. He longed for a return to those days, for Kate to come back to him. He had waited so long to unlock the past.

In the distance, The Grange reminded him of Annabelle.

**Chapter Twenty-eight **

_**Annabelle **_

The day after the infamous Grange dinner party, Heath decided to ring Annabelle. He asked her to come to dinner with him. Bored with the usual pattern: work, money, a feeding frenzy sated by the local blood bank - he needed a distraction. He'd been denying his true nature for too long, but there was very little alternative in polite society. Besides, Kate had moved on.

He would do the same.

That evening, Annabel arrived at his office in her work clothes. She'd been promoted at the gallery to Publicity Officer and her expensive blue suit shimmered under the lights as Heath gave her a tour of the new company premises. Afterwards, they went to dinner. Every night the following week, they did the same.

Sometimes they met up in Soho near the gallery where Annabelle was working with a more experienced Art Historian. She hoped to manage the gallery one day and Heath was surprised at her entrepreneurial vision. Annabelle was delighted by Heath's availability and newly amenable nature. He was like a new person, genuinely complementary of her work in the gallery, the place Kate one day planned to display some of her pictures.

They'd been going out for about six weeks when they met for lunch in a popular restaurant with long glass windows overlooking the Thames. Annabelle had a frown as she scanned the lunch menu. Heath once preferred pubs but his new job came with an expense account that he felt obligated to use. Annabelle was very impressed with this, but barely ordered anything.

'I'll have the soup please,' Annabelle said to the waiter who seemed unsure, as if it was his first day.

'Typical,' Heath thought, as he noticed Annabelle eating like a bird.

After they'd eaten, Annabelle told him about her day and Heath pretended to be interested. He knew he'd have to try a little harder if he wanted to pass the six-week boyfriend stage with Annabelle.

'Heath…did you hear me?'

Miles away, Heath had tuned out and was staring through the window at the panoramic London views. This was not a good sign. He was wondering how he'd dis-entangle himself from the possibility of an actual relationship with this woman whom he'd thought of as a friend - at worst, a plan. Sensing this, Annabelle did something unusual. She shocked him.

'Did you hear me Heath?'

Annabelle burst into tears as she talked.

Heath, sensing her need, couldn't believe his good fortune. Though never very interested in problems of a female nature, he'd have to make an exception in this instance. The words "unexpected pregnancy" gave him a chance to play the hero, no questions asked and also to get back at the woman he loved. The circumstances were too good to resist. He could take the plan further than he'd initially intended.

'I…I don't know what to do,' she gulped as she talked, irritating Heath who was nothing less than riveted by her out of character tale. It shouldn't have surprised him; Annabelle was needy and unpredictable. She'd barely waited for him to pay for dinner the third time they'd dated before she'd arranged his seduction in a hotel room. He knew he'd become a person Kate disliked and he didn't care. Perhaps his recently acquired egotism needed to be kept in check. The truth was he'd planned for days to spend the night with Annabelle. Still, he hadn't encountered anything but enthusiasm from her. Annabelle was almost entirely predictable and her neediness for his love was no less than riveting to a man who, since Kate's betrayal, was almost entirely devoid of emotion.

He knew Kate would think less of him for having almost no feelings for Annabelle yet taking things further with her. Since Kate had abandoned him and married someone else, he felt she had no right to an opinion. He'd been out clubbing and fanging and going home with whomever, since he'd read Kate's marriage notice in the paper years ago.

Now Heath wanted to use and discard anything and everyone he encountered. Most of all, he wanted to make Kate and her family pay for their transgressions, for leaving him alone as a small child, for beating him and, in Kate's case, for choosing someone else. Annabelle had needed little inducement from Heath to re-form a romantic attachment towards him that had never existed on his part. They had spent the night together after just one bottle of wine. Admittedly, she'd done most of the drinking. He had to give her some credit as she stared at him with her big, tearful eyes. The look of love on her face was implacable.

That night was a distant memory to Heath and he'd purposely not phoned her the next day.

After he'd impressed her with the cheap thrill of an exclusive hotel and his undivided attention, that one night with Annabelle had ended in the usual disappointment as he woke up beside her the next day. He did not need reminding that she was not Kate. Annabelle's arm across his chest represented her neediness, not his. Heath had sat on the lounge chair opposite her after he'd dressed, resisting the urge to run off early and leave her lying there alone.

That morning, a plan had begun to form. He'd left a respectable length of time between the first meeting and trying to impress her at Claridges. This was nothing less than Annabelle was used to, given her spoilt upbringing. He smiled inwardly as he realized she and Kate had at least one thing in common.

She was connected to the only woman he'd ever loved and that connection would serve a higher purpose; revenge.

Heath tried not to dislike her as she sat opposite him in the restaurant. She was attractive enough, nothing like her sister-in-law which really should have been a point in Annabelle's favour. Kate, beautiful and goddess-like, was also disloyal - Heath would never forgive her. He found Annabelle emotionally needy and thus high-maintenance and even a little bit boring, but she also held the keys to The Grange, a property he wished to purchase.

Heath was surprised when Annabelle spluttered out in sobs her baby news. He had been careful and made sure he looked empathetic as he sipped his blood orange juice mixed with Magenta.

He'd learnt to control his desires to drain his lovers, especially the ones he liked and his specialist had warned him that there was a chance he could pro-create. If he did, his offspring would only have a small chance of inheriting his hybrid gene. A boy child would have a sixty percent chance of being a fully-fledged bloodsucker. A girl child would carry the gene but likely be human. Heath hoped for a girl. He'd never want a child to suffer the way he had. He had no idea how he would explain himself to Annabelle. He'd tried to tell her about his freakiness, but she refused to listen. When he was tempted to fang, her meek compliance repelled him, and he held back. She still held little appeal. To Heath, Annabelle was bloodless.

All she said was, 'I know you are different. Kate has warned me but I don't care.'

He knew it was his call - either way Annabelle would raise his child.

'Annabelle, stop crying, there is no need for that,' he said softly, feigning sympathy which Annabelle misinterpreted as empathy. (They should have been more careful. They'd been careful, or so he thought). He'd lately started to read the thoughts of people close to him. It was a habit he'd tried to control but as he tuned in to Annabelle all he could hear in her mind was, 'please offer…please do the right thing…'

Heath stared out the window, bored with the woes of human life. This news should have excited him, he was sure of it. Once, the prospect of creating a family would have been grounding, essential. But now, he just stared into the abyss of eternity, the cruelty of outliving those he raised and dared to love in return.

Heath viewed the river and its many bridges, the skyline along the houses of parliament and thought what a wonderful city to behold. The bloodsuckers who'd come before him had told many stories about Edwardian England. Evenings were filled with tales of beautiful women, dark cobbled lanes, ruby carpeted theatre halls and eager street vendors. His ancestors drank brandy seated around log fires during their cold, mansion nights. And here was the chance to add his lineage.

He realized he was in control and wasn't proud of the fact that he'd made Annabelle feel beholden, when all along he'd wanted something beyond what was obvious to her. Marrying Annabelle would make Kate feel what he felt. The situation was meant to be. He looked towards the boats and the line of the shore that carried cargo and supported both ancient buildings and high rises. He wondered how far one of those boats could carry him if he kidnapped Kate and forced her to stay away from her poisonous family and all that was familiar until she was his, and only his, forever more. He thought about the time he'd gone to meet her in the glass house and wished they'd never parted.

He paused before he spoke. In his fantasies, the only source of comfort to him was a reversal of betrayal.

'Here, dry your tears,' he said, handing Annabelle an unused handkerchief.

Annabelle pressed it under her eyes.

'I have a solution. Your child shall have a father, Annabelle. We'll get married. I brought you here today to tell you…well, to ask you to marry me anyway. I'm not suggesting for a minute that this hasn't surprised me, but we needn't let it derail our lives…'

Annabelle looked at him with a surprised expression on her face. She used an old-fashioned phrase, "You could have knocked me over with a feather," when she announced her intentions to Kate later that evening, just as Heath imagined she would. He only wished he could have seen Kate's face when Annabelle told Kate that Heath had asked her to marry him and that she'd said "yes". Kate had guessed Heath was up to something but she also knew there was nothing she could do. She was married to Edmund now, she was having his child.

Over breakfast a week later, Edmund raised the subject of Annabelle with his wife.

'I feel as if I have lost a sister,' Hunt said, as he read the finance news. 'But never mind, she will come to her senses, eventually - and when she does I shall not be so forgiving. I think I shall re-structure the family trusts, make it harder for him to get his hands on her property… '

'Annabelle is pregnant,' Kate said, her hand on her own expanding stomach.

Hunt put down his newspaper, but delivered the calm, rational words Kate had come to expect from him.

'Then I suppose it will be a while before we see her again.'

The wedding was a lavish affair. The impending nuptials were announced in the most conservative broadsheet newspapers and covered in all the glossy magazines. Kate attended, of course, in a pink silk dress, fashionable and ruched at the shoulder. It was a close family affair and Hunt had told Kate she must attend.

Kate couldn't describe how she felt, sitting in the reception as the young couple danced their first dance. They looked amazing together - Annabelle so blonde and pretty like the sun, Heath so dark and handsome, like night.

**Chapter Twenty-nine **

_**Glass House**_

In retrospect, he had tried to show enthusiasm for the marriage.

As they grew apart, Annabelle was unaware they'd never really been together, except as friends and briefly, lovers. If his wife had ever asked, he would have told her everything. Deep down, he knew the truth; Annabelle didn't want to know.

Work was always his excuse.

The office needed him - the businesses. The family fortune required overseeing now that Harrison had drunk himself into despair and lost most of the shares that had remained in his name. Harrison sold the rest to Heath's company for a third of what they were worth. Of this recent business deal, he was not ashamed. He knew Kate, whom he hadn't spoken to for months, would be angry at him for stooping to Harrison's level.

The adoption of Hinton had not brought the family any closer together and Heath made more excuses to stay out of the house. Heath's career was escalating and he was expanding the company overseas, preparing to leave London for Asia for three months.

'I'm asking you not to go,' Annabelle said. 'It's too soon with the baby.'

'Well Annabelle, you knew where this was going when you married me. I can't abandon my career; it's important.'

'For what? You've earned more money than we could ever use and you have mine. You've spent half your life trying to get back at Harrison, now you've succeeded. You own his house, his companies.'

'Co-own. Remember it's mortgaged.'

'The same thing, you will own it. And my brother, you won't even speak to Hunt.'

'It is an understatement to say we didn't get along at school…'

'But we are adults now, Heath; I just want you to forget…'

Annabelle put her hands on her husband's face. Normally her blood did not appeal to him overly, but he hadn't taken his vitamins and was low on plasma. He pushed her hand away, afraid the yearning to feed and munch on the cool blue vein in her wrist would repel her. If only he could share with her his longings, his issues, himself. Perhaps the marriage would have had a chance. But, let's face it, she wasn't Kate. He knew Annabelle would run from him when she discovered the truth. He was sure of it.

Annabelle, for her part, suspected Heath was not normal from the earliest days of their marriage. She thought he might need therapy but he brushed her away when she tried to talk to him about his mood swings, as she called them. He'd always been cold towards her, Annabelle realized in retrospect. She had thought Hinton and the baby would bring them together but after he'd satisfied himself that the foetus would be "normal" (going so far as to take her to a strange specialist in Harley Street when she seemed overly fond of lamb chops), Heath had distanced himself from her once again.

Every person was worthy of love. It seemed to Annabelle that Heath had received more from the marriage than she had. Annabelle only expected her husband to love her, yet he made her feel unworthy. Sometimes he looked at her as if she was air and Belle caught him looking at Kate's old photographs more than once. Annabelle didn't even want to think about her sister-in-law. She was sure it was their love that had wrecked her marriage. On other occasions she realised that Heath was the sort of man who would have found it hard to make any marriage work.

Belle regretted the loss of her only female friend. She missed being close to her sister-in-law. Months earlier, Kate had pleaded with Annabelle not to marry Heath and Annabelle hated to admit Kate was right.

'He only wants to hurt you…he wants to hurt me.'

'How can you say that, Kate? Why do you think you are the only person worthy of love?' Annabelle asked.

'It's not like that,' Kate had replied.

'Not like what?'

'Heath and I…we grew up together…I know him. He's not like other people, he's…different…' Annabelle misunderstood her intentions almost entirely.

'He still loves you…doesn't he?'

'I…I don't think Heath's capable of love anymore…he…uses women and he's not above using you for his own purposes,' Kate had warned her.

'What purposes? He's already got his own money. Yes, our family is wealthy but so is Heath…'

'It's not like that. He wants ownership, power. First it was Harrison, now it's Edmund… once he marries you, he controls you. He wants to hurt me…promised me he'd get me back, for marrying Edmund…'

'Why did you marry my brother, Kate? I've always wondered…'

'Because… I loved him.'

'Because you loved him or because you needed him? Heath wasn't there and my brother was! Well now I need someone Kate and you can't stop me from being with him…'

'I'm trying to warn you… he will make your life very difficult Annabelle.'

Annabelle had packed her suitcase.

'Promise me you'll give me a chance, Kate. Stay away from us until after the baby is born.'

'If that is what you wish, Annabelle, but you are making an enormous mistake. You barely know this person. Heath is not like you. He's strong but angry and he's vengeful. He'll take all of his frustrations out on you…'

'I don't care,' Annabelle raged for the first time in her life. 'I love him.'

Kate was not surprised and she wished her sister-in-law well but suddenly they were like strangers in the same room.

'You know what your words do Kate? They make me more anxious than ever to leave this house…tonight.'

Kate sat on the bed; she knew she had tried to reveal Heath's full nature to Annabelle but it had backfired. In fact, she'd made the situation worse. Kate had just alienated her only female friend.

'I cannot say I'm surprised,' Hunt said later. 'I spent hours trying to talk her out of the marriage last night, but there was nothing to be done.'

Edmund leaned in to kiss his wife on the cheek. Kate pulled away.

'Annabelle is very determined to make this mistake,' Kate said.

One night, after they were married, unable to contain himself as Annabelle kissed him, Heath sunk his fangs into her neck (the taste of her blood was expectedly bitter to him). He knew, even after she'd fled the house, they could never be friends again.

Annabelle, endlessly forgiving, wanted to try but he could never explain his true condition or his sense of unworthiness. There seemed little point, especially after Annabelle had finally lost it and screamed at him for being a freak. The next day, Annabelle fled to Cornwall and the family estate. It was just until the baby was born, or so she'd said.

He didn't blame Annabelle. He was glad, in some ways, to see the back of her. He was becoming exactly what he was born to be, an animal. Soon there would not be a shred of humanity left in him. He littered his wardrobe with discarded packets of plasma and when the maid found the empty packages she screamed. He wasn't proud of who he was or what he'd done but after his wife left, he reconnected with his specialist and had a new elixir designed for him, Magenta Plus. This liquid began to control the variant in his condition.

When Annabelle returned to Hareton Hall, she occupied a separate bedroom. Heath was surprised Annabelle didn't leave him permanently. His wife had reverted to type and wanted to keep up appearances at all costs. Heath could read her thoughts by the time she returned and he knew she would run off once the baby was born, perhaps return to The Grange, but never to him. He thought she would leave again after catching him gorging discarded plasma from a plastic bag after a particularly long day at the office. He'd married her for all the wrong reasons; to get back at Kate and Hunt; to possess her and her property. Who could blame her? He'd respect her more for leaving. Deep down, he should have been more careful, controlled himself more around her. He resolved not to be such a fang freak in the bedroom.

In truth, he was surprised Annabelle had stayed as long as she had. He knew she only tried for the sake of the baby and he wished he could be a better man for her, could love her even, but his heart always belonged to someone else.

After she left, everyone left. Heath stopped taking his medication and began to drink too much elixir again. This resulted in an imbalance in his system and disturbing side-effects. He craved blood…human blood but had learnt how not to kill, how to just take enough, how to control himself. This control came from the part of him that was still fully human.

Heath started to bring home girlfriends, randomly. This was an easy thing to do since he was so good-looking and hugely rich. None of them compared to Kate. Always, Heath was dissatisfied.

Greta was disgusted by his immoral behaviour and resigned, telling him to join a twelve step recovery program and get himself back on track with his medication. She sent his Harley Street specialist for a home visit the day she left and whispered that she would call to check on him in a few days to re-negotiate the details of her employment contract.

During that time, Heath detoxed and was put under careful observation until he finally got himself back on track. He did some soul searching. In truth, none of the Spencers appeared to make good husbands, yet he wasn't a Spencer, not really. He contemplated researching his bloodline but that would take him far from Kate and he didn't want to leave her again. Though they hadn't spoken for weeks, he knew she was close by at The Grange.

It had been six months since he'd seen Kate and Greta had told him news of her pregnancy. After Heath married, he'd sent her running back to her weak and irritating husband. At the time, he was glad to see Kate go. He'd watched her turn and run out of the arboretum that night. He thought she deserved his indifference and was glad to bestow it upon her.

Only he hadn't felt indifferent afterwards.

He could still feel her under his skin. With every breath, he thought of her, couldn't stop dreaming about her. He felt she must be feeling the same. His senses were more acute, even though he'd been denying them.

**Chapter Thirty**

**First Night**

At the Grange, Kate was finalizing new sketches for another play. There was talk of working on designs for the Art direction of a big American film that was being made over summer not far from Hampstead.

Kate wrote all her fears and longings in her journals, something she had enjoyed doing since her earliest memories were recorded. She placed the journals in a space at the back of her wardrobe.

Her own pregnancy gave her some comfort, although she couldn't help but feel somehow the child growing within her was an alien. Occasionally, she went walking across Hampstead Heath holding the tiny hand of Katarina, who had just begun to toddle. Her daughter gave her endless hours of joy.

As she leant down to pull her child's knitted hat over Katarina's lush, dark curls, Kate was struck by her resemblance to Heath. It was impossible for him not to know. Edmund did. He had told her he didn't care; that they should marry anyway and start a family of their own; that Heath had likely been killed or disappeared never to return. They'd been hunting hybrids back then. This was a few years before the Vampire Act had been passed giving hybrids the same rights as humans, theoretically.

Edmund Hunt had been a good, kind, loving husband and father. He doted on little Katarina who adored him. Yet, Kate was haunted by her decision.

Kate longed to go back in time, to the night she and Heath had run away and they had married as teenagers in love in the tiny church in Chelsea. They had spent barely one night together before the note was delivered that had revealed a possible connection, a lie that changed everything.

'To everlasting love,' Heath had toasted her in the tiny pub, 'and my beautiful wife. I love you Kate Spencer and I will love you forever.'

Kate smiled, knowing she felt the same, knowing that in that moment there was nothing she loved more than secret marriages and the man before her. The love of her dreams sat later on their hotel bed, with its new mattress and sheets. Heath's perfect chest revealed his hard body, forbidden beauty and immense yet dangerous perfection. Heath had nuzzled into her wrist as Kate wound her body around his. She was sure he was tempted to bite but he never did. It was almost as if they were the same person. That night, they lay together on the bed, the vial of elixir half-empty.

'It worked,' Kate said. 'And you stayed in control…sort of,' she smiled, rubbing her wrist where the nuzzle of Heath's lips had left a slight red mark. Heath felt human and invincible, sleepy for the first time in years. 'I love you,' Kate said.

They were simple words but Heath had waited a lifetime to hear them.

'There is nothing I can say to that, except, I love you more,' he said, kissing her again. Kate could not believe that was true.

They bathed and dressed for dinner, contemplating their imminent return to the world as husband and wife. Kate was pale at the prospect and began to look less like the honeymooning bride and more like a frightened school girl as she contemplated their departure from the hotel. Heath took his pills and drank some plasma outside on the balcony. Kate remembered the note that contained not a shred of truth. The words had been for Heath's eyes only.

Kate thought about the truth as she gathered wildflowers with Katarina. Harrison had always played hard and fast with his lies. But of course, the letter he'd written was the reason she and Heath had parted; the reason Kate had sought sanctuary on that skiing holiday; the reason she'd had time alone to imagine herself with Edmund. The tests were arranged and were conclusive. Harrison had lied. But the whole process took more than a month and in the meantime, Heath disappeared. She was told he had died, most likely from exposure and lack of blood.

_And there he lives_, Kate thought, as she glanced over at Hareton Hall from the safe distance of the Arboretum.

Inside The Hall, Heath sat listening to his telephone messages on that day.

He hadn't seen Kate's face for a long time. Greta occasionally took Hinton to the park to play with his cousin. Heath didn't know about this. Kate always asked after them.

When Hinton turned three, Harrison fled the Guest house, a crazy drunk. He had mostly left Hinton with Greta once Hinton's desire to bite had become almost uncontrollable. Hinton displayed many of the characteristics that Heath had. A mild form of Magenta sated his thirst. Neither Harrison nor Frances understood the child's condition and were happy when Greta agreed to keep him with her. After Frances disappeared in Paris, Harrison went mad. He drank all day and refused to hold down any kind of work.

Heath stepped in and offered to adopt Hinton along with the house and Harrison couldn't have cared less by then. Although the specialist assured Heath the Spencers were not even a distant genetic relation, Heath knew somehow, he and Frances had once been related. Heath felt closer to Hinton, who ate hungrily in the kitchen. Hinton was blissfully unaware of all that had become of his family. He gravitated towards Heath, a father and fellow bloodsucker. Heath hoped the world Hinton grew up in would be more accepting than the one he'd had to hide in, as he shared a piece of chicken with the child who gnawed hungrily with his first teeth and gave Heath a winning smile.

**Chapter Thirty-one **

_**Revelations**_

Once Kate heard about the trouble in Annabelle's marriage, Kate decided it was time to speak to Heath, alone.

Kate was rugged up in her usual riding gear and had the car keys in her hand, making a rattling noise which woke her sleeping husband. She'd woken up early and told Edmund that she was going for a walk.

'At six in the morning, darling?' he asked sleepily. 'Should you really be going out in your condition? The air is like ice outside.'

'Of course,' Kate said. 'I have the car. I intend to walk the easy path. It's my new regime,' she said, sarcastically. 'Besides, exercise is good for the baby. Now go back to sleep…darling,' she added as an afterthought.

Kate pulled on her overcoat and looked into the mirror. At eighteen, when Kate had married Edmund, she'd felt older than her years. Now she was barely twenty-one and she had never told Heath why she had married Edmund so quickly; never told Heath why the pictures hadn't been splashed all over the papers; why the marriage hadn't been announced. He probably guessed and didn't care. There were so many mistakes that had been made and more than enough time to put them right, even if somebody got hurt in the process. They were meant to be together and that was that. She had telephoned him, asked him to meet her.

When Heath arrived at the glass house, having pulled up in one of his sleek sports cars, Kate knew she had to gauge his behaviour.

She moved to touch him but he pulled away and turned his face. Kate wondered if he had already fed that morning on Magenta or… if his tastes had become more refined and… diverse. Kate would have offered her blood to him there and then if she'd felt it would fix the situation between them and not harm the baby.

'Why did you want to meet me here Kate?' Heath asked in a weary tone. Heath noticed her messed up hair.

'Look at you. You've just got out of Hunt's bed. I never thought I'd see the day…'

'Heath…he's my husband…If it makes you feel any better, we have separate bedrooms.'

Heath's eyes combed her face, her body, her round belly hidden under the coat. Kate must have thought he was really stupid.

'Why do you need to talk to me when you've got him?'

'I needed to see you again.'

Kate touched his hand, and all the emotions were like before. She could not deny this passion and Kate wondered if Heath felt the same.

If he did, he didn't show it.

'I'm asking you not to…hurt Annabelle. She's been a good sister-in-law to me, a good friend to us both.'

'Oh, this is rich, sticking up for the other woman. What do you call this then? I'm sure if she knew we were meeting in secret she'd be thrilled,' Heath added sarcastically. Then he moved towards Kate. At first, it seemed like he was going to kiss her. Instead, he was distracted by the baby's heart beat and placed his hands over his ears.

'Having a baby…makes it impossible for me to leave now. It does not mean I love you less.'

Heath looked at her, 'And you brought me here to tell me that? As if I didn't already know? How could you Kate? You should have waited for me. I just wanted proof that Harrison had lied, and then nothing would have kept me away from you.'

'I…I know,' Kate said, weeping.

He was so angry he moved to shove her, but thought better of it, though she didn't resist his touch or step back. Instead he moved in close, swayed almost as if he was going to kiss her. Kate moved towards him at the same time.

'Now, we meet as equals, Mrs Hunt,' Heath said. 'Now you get to be the jealous one.'

That was the problem. Heath had all but ignored her since the night after the dinner party. The closeness of her, the nearness of her almost touch, was enough to set him off. His mouth watered, his teeth sharpened. Kate stumbled and moved to sit down.

'A fine mess we have made of our lives,' she whispered. She looked at Heath and realized her love for him was like the air that surrounded them, ever-changing but eternal, always. Her love for Heath transcended time and space and even themselves. She couldn't believe it had been so fragile, that she had been foolish enough to believe it would survive betrayal. Now Heath was married to another and gone forever.

Kate moved to stand up but sat down again, quickly.

'Are you alright?' Heath asked, suddenly spooked.

'Yes, I'm…I'm just upset, that is all. Please, Heath, don't go, please come. Put your arms around me one last time. I…I would give up Hunt if only you'd ask me to.'

And it was then, that Heath realized he'd finally gotten to her.

Now was his chance.

'You must be kidding,' Heath said. 'Do you really think I'd want you now? About to give birth to another man's child…'

'I wish it were your child,' Kate said.

'Well, it isn't,' Heath said, 'and I don't want you,' he lied.

Kate withdrew her hand.

'Please don't be like that.'

'It was you, Kate, with all of your stupid airs and graces, the minute you were poisoned by the Hunts, you came to believe yourself one of them, better than the rest of us, better than me with my eternal…curse. I longed for immortality once but only to share it with you.

'Share it with me now…'

'You'd have to be joking. You're not thinking straight in your…condition. You are so selfish you can't even put your child first.'

'Not now…later, after the baby is born.'

'Forget it. No matter how miserable you are, you belong to him now…'

'Never.'

'And I have made another choice…'

'I don't believe you.'

'Oh, I could never lie to you and tell you I love Annabelle. I don't even like her, though I've tried hard enough. But hating you, Kate…is almost as good as loving you and how I have wished for this moment, to see you as you really are…empty and alone but for your selfish choices.'

'It was not selfish, Heath. I couldn't find you.'

'You should have looked harder.'

'I did. But I was lied to…Harrison convinced me you no longer lived.'

'Well, he was wrong and he's always plotted against us. You were foolish to believe him in the first place.' Heath said, the morning's gorge from the blood bank fresh in his veins. He felt empowered. There was strength in such a lack of desire.

'It was your fault too,' Kate said, 'for leaving me, for doubting us.'

Heath remained silent. 'Harrison swore we were…blood relations…'

Kate looked shocked.

'But it is not true. Here,' Heath said, he unfolded a paper from his pocket. 'There is no connection. I also spoke to my…mother. It appears my biological father disappeared one night after drinking… the blood of others. He has not been sighted since. Heath pulled out his original birth certificate, written in Spanish. The date was clear.

'I'm a year older than I thought.'

'Oh Heath, what have we done?'

'If I did wrong, we both did wrong and now you are paying for it. Revenge is sweet.'

'Really? Greta used to say revenge is a dish best served cold.'

'Well, she always had a cliché at the ready.'

Both the lovers were spent in their argument.

'Please…Heath… Don't do anything you will regret.'

'Like what? Like leaving Annabelle? No, Annabelle will go of her own accord just like all the women in this family. I'm surprised it has taken her this long to work out that I only married her to hurt you and get my hands on The Grange.'

'I don't believe that. Annabelle loves you. She won't go anywhere unless you force her to.'

'She's left me once already. You really think you can control all our lives Kate? I despise you for marrying Hunt. I despise you for not believing in me enough to wait.'

'I… never stopped believing in you. I never stopped loving you. I wanted to do what was best for… Katarina.'

'And yet you married another.'

'I was told you'd gone forever!'

'Mmm… a convenient excuse. How could you ever be with another man?' Heath spat.

'Like I said, he's my husband.'

'I was your husband.'

'I know, but we were so young, I thought you'd changed your mind, abandoned me.'

'Stop, stop crying. This is not the Kate I wish to see.'

'It is the one you created. I have never stopped loving you…will never stop loving you Heath,' Kate said as she stood up, 'but I think this argument is going nowhere, Edmund.'

'Ah yes, the wonderful Hunt.'

'Don't be jealous. He has never taken your place.'

'That's exactly what he has done,' Heath laughed bitterly.

'When I first saw you, Heath, I loved you. It is almost as if we are the one soul and that doesn't change, no matter what. After the baby is born I want to be with you, forever.'

Kate stood in the open doorway of the glass house as the wind began to howl and swept up her hair. 'I can see there is no point in continuing to discuss this until then.'

'You sound just like him.'

'And you have become so much worse, swindling Harrison out of his own fortune, marrying my sister-in-law to hurt me.'

'Your brother was a vicious drunk and a liar. He deserved it. Besides, it wasn't a difficult thing to accomplish and Annabelle knew what she was getting herself into.'

'And making his child your own.'

'Hinton needed a home after he was abandoned by his own father.'

'A home? You sent him to boarding school.'

'From where he shall return once he is educated.'

'Educated enough to run wild like you and I did? I could never bear to let my child be that far away from me. And as for Annabelle, I've seen the scars on her wrist where you bit her.'

'She asked me to. She thinks blood sucking is more of a kink and less of a need.'

Kate shook her head. 'I can see we're getting nowhere with this conversation.'

'Everything that went wrong Kate, we did to each other. If you had just waited…if you had just believed in me like you promised you would…we said we'd never abandon one another.'

'You abandoned me.'

'I never stopped loving you.'

'…Until now.'

'You married another.'

'So did you.'

Heath shook his head, 'To make you pay…'

'I must go.'

'Yes,' Heath said, 'your husband must miss you.'

'I see you are determined to stay with Annabelle and ruin all our lives.'

Heath raised an eyebrow angrily, 'She is my wife.'

'Just don't hurt her,' Kate said as she walked away. She did not wish to tell him the full truth about their child tonight. It had been a mistake to call him. Heath was left in the dark once again; his vow of revenge seemed hollow and pointless.

**Chapter Thirty-two**

_**Birth **_

Nights later, Kate woke in the dark. Her stomach grumbled as she listened to the rain lick the roof. It was two in the morning. Hunt was sleeping soundly, as Kate crept silently to the wardrobe and removed her long, winter coat, her woollen hat, scarf and gloves. Instead of slippers she slid on her waterproof boots as she prepared for the winter night after many months of clear weather. Kate could hardly breathe she felt so cooped up. She couldn't explain her need to get out of the house. Her mind was overworked. She was not thinking clearly. Kate wished she had told Heath about Katarina. She woke up, dreaming of Heath and thought if she didn't get a breath of fresh air there was no way she'd have the strength to deliver the child that kicked inside her. She knew Heath had rejected her, yet she was compelled to find him.

Kate grabbed the keys to her car then realized she probably shouldn't drive. Besides, her car was at the garage getting serviced. She knew Edmund's Range Rover would make a loud scraping noise coming out of the gravel driveway. Instead, Kate walked quietly downstairs, found the keys to the house in the kitchen and walked very quietly out the door. It was a good distance from the Grange yet she knew a shortcut across the heath towards Hareton Hall that she hadn't used in months. She needed to see Heath again; she would wait for him - forever, if she had to. Tell him it was a mistake, that they belonged side by side, that she never wished to be parted from him again.

Kate was not prepared for the cold air that slapped her face as she stepped into the night. She wasn't far from the beginning of the trail that led between the two houses and she was sure she could find it. Rain started to spit down and the irrational part of Kate did not think about the stupidity of walking in the dark, alone, in her condition.

The manicured garden formed a pattern - a maze that she remembered from childhood -and led the exact way across the heath towards Hareton Hall. The lone house was filled with secrets and lies. Kate was determined to find Heath, to talk to him about Katarina, to make him understand that she had made a stupid mistake. She knew this track, knew the way by dark and from memory.

Kate peered through the midnight air. She caught her breath for the first time in hours and pulled her overcoat tight around her. Kate knew she shouldn't do it, but she thought, if she could just get a glimpse of her old home, the place she now missed, the only place she really belonged to, everything would be all right. She'd had a bad dream, about herself, about Heath and the baby. She needed to know that Heath was alright, needed to tell him about Katarina and wanted to see him again. It had been almost a week since they'd talked. Kate walked on.

The baby stirred inside her and the rain spat down suddenly but softly from the sky. Kate kept going as crystal tears, like the ones from her childhood, began to roll down her cheeks. She put one foot in front of the other, driven. The wind howled, the night closed in on her. She stumbled and hit her head on the rocks. Kate was as far from The Grange as she was close to The Hall. The pain was unbearable as she screamed into the dark.

Hunt woke, restless in the night.

'Kate,' he called.

He wondered which part of the house his beautiful, thankless wife had roamed off to. He saw that her cream dressing gown lay crumpled on a chair and something about the emptiness of the room, the silence in the hallway, bothered him. Hunt got out of bed, put on his slippers in his ordered way and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

'Kate,' he called again, 'Kate.'

In response, there was howling wind and an open window. He walked over to pull it down and latch it shut as the rain fell and the wind seemed to gather momentum. Then he noticed his keys were missing, which meant his wife had gone out driving (a ridiculous notion given that she could barely fit behind the wheel) or walking in the rain. Hunt was beside himself with worry and looked at the telephone. He knew where she had gone just as surely as if she had told him herself. Although the last thing he wanted was to talk to his sister, he picked up the receiver and dialled Hareton Hall.

Heath never expected a call in the middle of the night so he hadn't bothered to take the telephone off the hook. He couldn't believe someone would bother to ring so he tried to ignore the noise until, restless and unable to sleep himself, he picked up the telephone.

'Yes,' he said, sleepily and irritated. Annabelle was asleep at the other end of the hall but woke when she heard raised voices. Belle wandered into the room, wrapped in a blanket.

Heath had spoken only a few sentences before he handed the phone to Annabelle and left the room. He dragged on his boots, riding britches and a long coat. He'd had barely any time to dress because he knew, as surely as if Hunt had told him, where Kate was.

'Is it Kate? What's wrong?'

'She's gone missing. Your brother said she'd been acting strange. She's been cooped up. He's worried she was coming here and something's happened…here, you talk to him…'

'Shouldn't you ring the police?'

'It will be hours before they do anything, but yes, you do that. I'm going out, I think I know where she might have gone - it will be quicker.'

It was moments later that Annabelle realised Heath had picked all of this information up from one sentence. If Annabelle hadn't known better she would have said her husband was a mind reader. Annabelle looked both put out and worried as she walked over to the telephone.

Heath could read Hunt's mind but he'd also dreamt about her. He dreamt about Kate every night.

In his dream they were running along Hampstead Heath together. They were children, again. It was summer. They were bare footed and laughing as the sun shone. Heath only needed a hat and sunglasses. His dream became a nightmare as the sky darkened and the rain came down and Kate, older, turned to him with rain on her face and said, 'Remember…when I'm missing to look harder. I'll be there… I love you…I'll always love you. When you find me we'll be together…forever.'

Then he must have woken and fallen asleep again and in the next dream he was lying in Kate's old room with all her photographs on the dressing table where she'd left them, trying to sleep but constantly woken up by a tap at the window. Rain poured down and the rattle of her tiny fingers became harder and louder until the glass shattered and a voice, Kate's voice snarled, 'Let me in, let me in!' Her neck was red with blood, her skin white as snow. Venom-filled fangs were bared as she hissed…_I've been away for eighteen years_…'

Heath had woken and gone to touch the small hand of his beloved but just as her icy fingertips moved on the broken glass of the window pane, cut and bloody, she disappeared.

Rain poured down as Heath walked, ran, and then merged speedily through the park. The meadow was becoming an ocean of water and mud.

'Kate! Katherine!' Heath yelled, shining a torch into the mist. 'Katherine!' He merged faster then ran towards the glass house. A bundle of shawl, overcoat, boots and wet hair lay waiting for him, shivering in the shelter. There was a gash on her forehead. Heath walked to her and put his arms around her, holding her in an embrace that locked them together like one person.

'Kate, my darling Kate, what have you done? No one knew where you were. You shouldn't have gone out on a night like tonight…'

Kate looked pale and her face was wet from the rain and cold which was perhaps even worse. He knew he had to normalize her body temperature and although he was getting colder by the day, his coat would warm her. He bundled her up inside it.

'I'm taking you to the car, Kate. I parked it not far from here. I knew where you would be.'

Kate stumbled to her feet as Heath helped her. 'You wouldn't speak to me, Heath. You stopped talking to me…'

'I was desperate. I tried to forget you.'

'I know. We've both made mistakes…'

'I should never have left you. It's all my fault…'

'No, it's mine,' Kate said, half delirious. 'Oh Heath, I came back to you…' She put her arms around his neck. He leant in and whispered, 'I never stopped loving you'. Her voice was fading. Then she curled up in pain and cried. Heath scooped her up and lifted her from the ground. Normally, carrying a heavily pregnant woman would be difficult but Kate was surprisingly light.

'We have to get you home, get you warm,' Heath said.

'I'm…I'm sorry. Forgive me for what I did. I made a mistake, should never have married Hunt…but Katarina…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'I know, you're delirious.' He placed his hand on her brow, worried that her skin was burning. 'None of that matters now…'

'It is…as if we are the same person…I cannot exist without my love…I cannot exist without you…'

'Nor I you,' Heath whispered but it wasn't clear if Kate could hear him. He knew he had to get her to a doctor, quickly.

Heath bundled her into the car and rang emergency.

'Kate, you're not thinking straight. Try to stay awake. We're almost…there,' Heath looked over, and touched her forehead which was still warm but Kate's eyes were closed, she was slumped into the seat belt and her breath was laboured.

**Chapter Thirty-three**

_**Reborn **_

Heath had stayed with Kate in her room and refused to be moved until Hunt barged in and demanded to see his wife. Heath was asked to leave. He reluctantly agreed to wait in the hall after he was assured by the nurses that Kate would live through the night and the child would be safe.

At six in the morning he was told the child had been born and both mother and baby were sleeping. Relieved, Heath sighed. Hunt walked out of the room and said, 'She wanted to see you. They say she will be alright…she's sleeping now. I have a son.'

Afterwards, when he had assured himself Kate was resting peacefully, Heath went home, and fell asleep on the couch as the sun came up. He was wrapped in Kate's old blanket. Greta pulled the drawing room curtains shut, shielding him from the harsh light that made his pale skin sizzle.

Greta woke Heath from a slumber he never thought he'd fall into, almost as if he were drugged from lack of sleep. Greta had her coat wrapped around her. Her face was downcast yet welcoming. Heath's mind was a sea of nothingness. Morning rose like a cloud as the faintest trickle of sun shone through the imminent afternoon storm that would lead to yet another wild night.

Heath rubbed his eyes.

'How is she?'

'The baby, the boy, is well and healthy. They have named him Edmund after his father. Annabelle has gone to help her brother with the baby…'

'I wasn't asking about the child.' Heath said wearily.

'I know you weren't. Kate is weak. She asked to be transferred home, she asked for you.'

Heath pulled on his sweater and drove with Greta back to The Grange. He'd never had any desire to come here again, to the house with perfectly manicured gardens. Heath had always preferred the wild, unkempt beauty of Hareton Hall. The Grange held no secrets, until now.

Hunt was standing at the door.

'Oh,' he said, 'it's you. She's been asking for you, they say there is nothing I can do except let her rest. She lost a lot of blood but she insisted on coming home. There is a medical team with her…'

Heath knew she hadn't meant her home, here, at The Grange. He knew she'd meant her childhood home, Hareton Hall.

In Hunt's arms lay a sleeping baby with fair hair, like Edmund's. Heath brushed past Hunt and the baby and bounded up the stairs, two at a time.

Kate lay on the bed covered in a pale duvet. Her pain was dulled by the drip in her arm. Kate smiled when she saw Heath.

'Oh Heath, you've come back to me,' she whispered as he leant over her.

Kate pulled him into her, his warm, strong body giving her the strength to speak.

'I wanted to see you one last time…'

'Quiet Kate…you need to rest.'

'Plenty of time for that,' she whispered. 'I wanted to say how much…I loved you…love you still and that I have paid for my mistake…'

'Quiet Kate, it is I who has paid also…for loving you…'

'No…no…you don't understand,' Kate leant in close to him '…the baby is your child. I've named her Katarina. Please…please don't take her from Hunt. I know he will be a…good father, but I wanted you to know the truth before I…so you can always keep a close…eye on her… my last wish is for Hunt to raise her Heath…because…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'You're delusional. I know…all that is past.'

Heath tried to hide his anger.

Kate continued, 'I know how…ambitious you are… there would be no place for a child in the world you seek…and because I know it will be hard for you to raise her, reminding you of me. Hunt will love her… as if she is his own.'

Heath pushed his face into Kate's cheek.

'No Kate, you are talking madness. Don't leave me…don't leave us…'

'I can't…stay,' she swallowed. 'I'm so tired…no choice…' A tear dropped down Heath's face and onto her lips, paler than chalk. 'I want you to know, there was no one in this world I loved more than you and I will love you beyond this earth.'

'Don't go…' Heath whispered, 'Fight…'

'I dreamt, when I was under the anaesthetic, when they took the baby…I dreamt that I didn't go to Heaven, Heath…'

'Stop talking this way, Kate.'

'I dreamt that I stayed with you…forever…here at The Hall…'

'You're at The Grange, Kate.'

Kate continued, deliriously. 'I dreamt that I haunted you…and we went to the heath every day and lay in the sun and it didn't hurt us… we rode our horses…and had picnics and…raised Katarina…and it was as it always should have been. I never cared about…my career or travel or any of those things you enjoyed…I only ever wanted to be loved by you…to love…you. We are the same person you and I. We were never meant to be parted.'

'No,' Heath said, 'Kate, Kate,' he whispered '… I love you. I cannot live without you…'

'Then don't…' Kate whispered. 'Turn me…make me like you. I know you can do it…'

Heath held her to him gently, trying to will the life back into her aching, bruised body but her breath was fading. There was blood on the sheets when she coughed. When her breathing stopped the medical staff wrestled Kate from Heath and started administering every possible remedy to her lifeless body until there was nothing further to be done.

Kate, in her breathless whisper, asked everyone to leave; she only wanted Heath.

Later, Heath let out a piercing scream as he stormed past Greta, who held the quiet baby boy, in the drawing room. The infant was unaware of the tragedy and commotion that was the post-script to his birth.

**Chapter Thirty-four**

_**Transition **_

In the dark, Kate had whispered, 'Heath, you have come back to me.'

He lifted his head, contemplating her neck, only for a second.

Kate stirred as he leant in to whisper, 'Don't leave me. I cannot live without you, come back to me, come back to me. I never stopped loving you.'

Heath pulled her arm towards him and rested his head in the crook of her shoulder.

'Nor I you, I just wanted to make you suffer. I'm sorry Kate. Stay with me, don't leave. I cannot be without you…'

'You don't have to,' she whispered. 'If it's not too late, turn me into you, even as a ghost, let me haunt you, drive you mad.'

'Your transition may take decades. Changing you will change me. Neither of us will ever be the same.'

'I don't care.'

He had been warned by Greta that she had only minutes left. It seemed like seconds. The doctors had done all they could.

Heath barely paused before he lifted her towards him, plunging his teeth into her wrist, then her neck. The taste of her blood was honey and nectar to him but his tears were bitter. Without her, he felt nothing. With her by his side, they were invincible. Kate shuddered and closed her eyes.

She did not stir. Moments passed. He could hear the doctors discuss how many more seconds they should be left alone. He'd been inside Kate's room for less than three.

Heath turned and looked at the blackened sky. It reminded him of their shared childhoods. He resolved to take her, drag her out of the window if he had to, but physically, her recovery was quick. Her wounds began to heal, almost immediately, but the venom of a hybrid was not as strong in transition. Heath felt weaker. He wasn't sure this would save her.

Kate opened her eyes, yet her skin remained white, almost translucent. The fever, hot, began to cool. Her fingers responded to his touch as he lifted her from the bed to see the view from the window, the view in the night across Hampstead Heath and towards Hareton Hall, where she grew up.

'Heath,' she said, 'there is no man on earth I love more than I love you…' Then she shut her eyes. Kate's body lay mute and lifeless in his arms and Heath let out a howl in the dark that made the staff and Edmund come rushing into the room.

'And that is how the story went…' Greta said, 'A sad story, with no happy ending.'

Greta looked around her as she took the keys from the kitchen fruit bowl, freshly filled with blood oranges. The older woman's eyes filled with tears.

'Katarina, your mother would have been glad that you came here, to discover more about her, but now I think you should leave and think twice about coming back…You see, when we burst into the room that day… her body was lifeless. Then, they took her from him and she was buried far beneath the ground. There is no coming back from that. But people say… no body exists where she was laid to rest. Heath was raving on about immortality for days after but he was talking to a ghost.

I tried to placate him, but he was inconsolable. She'd whispered something in his ear before she passed; something to drive him mad. He bared his teeth and hissed at me when I found him lying beside the place she was buried and to my shame… I ran. I always knew that he was different. I thought it made him special, but that night… he was beyond help. I only imagine what he may have done to bring her back…at least, partly.'

The wind blew a gale outside. The night closed in on them.

'There are ghosts here,' Greta said. 'And more than that, besides… You don't want to make the same mistakes your parents did…'

**Chapter Thirty-five**

_**Family**_

Katarina and Hinton were seated in the Hidden Garden.

'I've read the file, Hinton. Of course, I can't pretend I'm not…surprised but it doesn't change you. Not really. It really doesn't matter to me.'

Hinton looked surprised and hugely relieved.

'I… I've drawn you something. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you. Do you…think of me?'

'Do I think of you? Always.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning I accept you for who you are,' Katarina said, as she ate the lunch she'd brought. She and Hinton, both dressed in long, dark coats (Katarina wore a red beret and gloves covering the expensive bracelet her father had given her for her birthday). They'd met here for lunch to celebrate Hinton's win – with the help of a perfectly worded essay attached to his entry.

'Finally I can spell, read and write almost perfectly, thanks to you Katarina. Although I have to admit, it still takes extra effort to translate some words.'

'I am so proud of you, Hinton. What words are still difficult?'

'I love you.'

Katarina smiled.

Hinton continued, 'they are simple words but hard for me to say.'

'I love you too,' Katarina replied.

Hinton could not contain his smile.

'I have been thinking of the future. The truth is, Katarina, I was never very interested in school. I preferred the horses and my Art and was never very big on study, nor was Heath. We were both too wrapped up in our own little worlds; Heath and his ghost, me and my cravings. Well, we shared the cravings. Perhaps Linus is the one you should congratulate. He just got accepted into Cambridge.'

'Wow. That's amazing,' Katarina said. 'I have to say I'm kind of surprised. He's so into his weekend dance parties. I didn't realize he ever studied. I'm still waiting to hear about Art College.'

'Well, I've been thinking, wondering. I'm planning to go travelling this summer. I was going to start in Italy, and then maybe Greece…The scholarship gives me enough money for two if I travel second class. I was hoping you might come with…'

'Yes,' Katarina said. She was barely eighteen but she knew perfect when she saw it (or perfect for her) and the love she felt for Hinton was real and present. She didn't care what her father thought of the Spencers and she had little memory of her mother apart from the ghostly young girl on the roof that day. The thought saddened Katarina so much she put the image out of her mind and convinced herself the moment could never be replicated.

She'd demanded an explanation from Heath the next time they spoke but he'd just dismissed her sighting and said, 'I warned you not to go up there…'

'Perhaps some things are….inexplicable,' was all Kate could think. The girl had looked so… real, so inexplicably like her. Katarina had barely seen the pyjama-clad intruder's face, but she remembered her clear blue eyes, flashing in the dark, a ghost, a vision, a pretty little vampire.

Katarina understood that somewhere, way back in time, near the place she and Hinton now walked, towards the glass house on Hampstead Heath, her mother had once met Hinton's father, a meeting that created this new moment for her now.

In her mother's antique locket, which she always wore (it had been passed down through generations of Spencer women), Kate had placed a photograph of her mother, and herself; together. The locket, she was sure, kept her safe. Katarina looked over at the handsome young man next to her. It was hard to believe, eight weeks ago, they had barely spoken. Now, she couldn't imagine being without him as he took her hand and they walked across the frosty mist of the Heath.

The truth was in the final pages of the journal. That was why Linus had given it to her to read; she knew that now. The words contained strange truths but necessary ones. Her father was not her biological father. This was something she had guessed from the early chapters of the journal. To discover her heritage was a shock, to discover she had a half-brother in Linus, was revelatory. Katarina also had a younger brother but they had been in different years at separate schools and had conflicting interests. Katarina hoped they would become closer when they were both adults.

She thought of the last time she had spoken to Heath. She was alone on the meadow, angry and tear-stained when she went to him. Heath had had the strangest feeling he was not alone riding his horse that day. He'd lately, in his thirties, begun to hear the thoughts of every human being he came into contact with, something he found disturbing. Once it had only happened when he listened closely. Recently his specialist had warned him about it, warned him that he'd be fully immortal if he lived past thirty, free to roam the heath forever if he wanted to, free to turn himself to ash in the sun if he did not. His image would not be betrayed in mirrors or print. After twenty-six, he'd ceased to exist in photographs entirely.

Heath heard her angry thoughts before he saw his daughter again that day and was not surprised to see her standing before him when he turned. Katarina wore the same long coat as her mother had worn, twenty years ago. Edmund must have kept it with Kate's things. He owed her an explanation. Before she could speak, he apologized.

'Here,' he said, handing her his waterproof jacket. 'The rain is coming down and it will protect you from the storm.'

They rode together to the glass house in silence. When she asked him a question, instead of replying in words, he vanished in mist. Katarina wasn't sure if she would ever see him again.

Months passed. There were so many questions and so few answers that Katarina had stopped asking for them. Her own father had died before she had ever challenged him on the matters of her parentage. Edmund had been a good father to her and she had loved him and mourned his loss and that was all that mattered. Katarina had inherited The Grange.

Heath had not once visited them but Linus came around often for dinner. The three young people had wild parties in the drawing room that were the talk of the borough and many friends from Italy and Europe came to visit. It was a world of lightness and socializing that none of them - Linus, Hinton or Katarina - ever experienced during their solitary childhoods. Heath had become more and more reclusive and barely spoke to his own son, let alone Hinton, when they moved out of Hareton Hall. By then, Heath had stopped going to work, repairing the now crumbling mansion, and never appeared at his own pub for dinner like he used to.

**Chapter Thirty-six**

_**Birthday Party **_

Almost twenty years had passed since the night she was born, and Heath remembered it was Katarina's birthday. He'd had the gift wrapped. A gold necklace with diamonds tastefully worked into swans on the pendant. A fine piece of jewellery, new, not from the family crypt, Heath mused. He also had another gift, the deeds to Hareton Hall, made out to Linus, Katarina and Hinton. He placed inside the envelope the gift of a round the world plane ticket, and access to the shares he had set aside for her since she was born. It was the least he could do, with all his money. He knew it would never be enough to make up for the neglect she'd suffered from him. The gift was merely a gesture and he expected nothing in return. Her desire to be friendly surprised him, given that there were so many unanswered questions about their family.

Katarina was surprised that Heath remembered her birthday since he had ignored every other one and had refused an invitation to the party that evening. Instead, he had driven over to The Grange to see her. He explained he didn't "do" parties anymore, especially ones with a Great Gatsby theme. Instead, he asked her to go walking with him across Hampstead Heath. Katarina smiled and said, 'I'll get my coat.'

They walked in tandem across the meadow in the mild winter light.

"I need to get some more decorations for tonight in Hampstead High Street,' Katarina said, making small talk. 'Linus will be there, you know. And Hinton would love to see you again. You never replied to my invitation, so I just assumed you…forgot.'

'Do you honestly think I could forget the day you were born?'

'No,' Katarina said, 'I suppose not.'

'What was she like, my mother? People say you were both… inseparable. They talk of a ghostly teenaged girl…like the girl I saw in the rafters that day. Tell me what she was like…'

'Well, at first I thought she was nothing like you, but I have changed my mind. You share the same curiosity about things you should not… and there is a determination in your manner that is similar.'

Heath looked down at his feet.

Katarina could hardly believe that this stranger was actually her father. After discovering her mother's old journals she had always suspected there was a story she was never allowed to know. She did not understood her need to reach out to this strange, alone man, who hadn't really shown her any love. Only her mother's journals filled in the blanks, shocking though they were to her. Deep down, there had always been something missing from her family history, something that she'd always suspected. Now she knew there was a vampire in the bloodline. She wanted to go far away from here, at least for a while.

'Your eyes are the same,' Heath said, reaching out to Katarina. He touched her hair when she stood in front of him, overlooking the meadow. Katarina could not feel or sense the touch. The man's fingers were like the air.

'And you look, almost identical - so similar that it was hard for me, at first.'

Then she understood, even slightly, that her mother had been right to let Hunt raise her. Her real father knew nothing about selflessness and love, or did he? He seemed to feel he owed her an explanation, however, and she was interested to hear it.

Heath admitted he'd always known she was his.

'I used to check on you from time to time. It was the reason I never left The Hall. Your mother thought Hunt should raise you and I did not object. I thought raising you in a house full of memories of your mother would not be in your best interests. Your mother and I were meant to be together, always…and I have never truly loved another…'

'I know,' Kate said.

'Then you know, everything?' he asked.

'I read her journals. I know what she wrote in them. It made me understand her…and you, more. But I don't love you. I don't think I even like you. I have forgiven you. That is all.'

'I understand,' Heath said. 'I owed you an explanation…but you found it yourself. I thought I was not fit to be your father…with the boys, I barely had a choice. It was…perhaps wrong of me not to claim you. It was Kate's wish that you be raised at The Grange. I think she thought it was less…haunted than Hareton Hall.'

Heath touched his daughter's cheek and walked on. He wandered further ahead of Katarina, ending the brief moment of rare and unexpected closeness between them.

He added as an afterthought, 'Your mother would be very proud to see you as you are.'

Heath moved quickly and deliberately. Katarina was left standing alone in silence once again.

**Chapter Thirty-seven**

_**Eternal**_

The Grange was decorated like something out of the 1920s. Light filled the room. It was surprising to Katarina that she felt so happy. Hinton had not expected her acceptance. Together they worked.

Though she could only recall the length of her mother's hair, her large, pretty eyes and the warmth of her touch – barely – Kate's writing brought her back to Katarina. She could not, of course, detail her transformation into the girl in the attic that day and Katarina resolved that the more fantastical elements of her visit to The Hall might have been a terrible dream or vision.

Katarina had each of the journals stored in a locked drawer of her desk. They represented a year of Kate's life on this earth, and Katarina had read all of them. The words began in large, childish letters, written in an unsophisticated way. Kate had skipped forward to the good parts, and that was how she knew that Heath was her father, although she never thought of him as that. Not yet. Not ever. They were how she had learnt of the existence of hybrids and humans and vampires and bloodsucking and night terrors. It was where she began to believe in the secrets of the impossible.

The day in the mist, the last time Katarina had seen him, had been the day he started to disappear. Heath had begun to move faster, some say at the speed of light. His powers were so diverse now. He thought they might have brought him happiness but eternity without the one he loved was…worthless. He waited for her.

It was not meant to be that way. He'd been waiting for a long time. But a vampire turned by a hybrid is the longest hibernation of all. Twenty years, he'd been told. And even then, she'd need another eight to reach maturity (girl hybrids aged until twenty-eight when they sometimes attained immortality). It was a risk. There was a chance.

For twenty years the teenage girl had hidden and grown, showing herself only in the early dawn of first light. She could not speak to him or any other person, let alone touch them. Recently, she began to attain human form, as she had been the day she saw Katarina.

For the past month, Kate had come to him in the night, older, not translucent anymore, still talkative, like a child. Her skin had transformed from see through to pale. She no longer took the form of a ghost.

Heath was preparing their first moments together. Their first trip to Italy, where he intended to take her, was to coincide with Kate's twenty-first birthday as a hybrid. He'd been told it was different for women. She'd take longer to emerge.

Tomorrow would be the day. Tomorrow eternity began.

Kate had writhed in pain for months in her attic space, hidden in corners, curled up in blankets. Heath had wandered the heath in the evening to spare himself the pain of her suffering. No one else could hear or see her and he couldn't help her, could not even touch her. He was sure she must regret her choice but when her memory returned, from the wild dark spirit she had become, she reminded him constantly, how much she loved him. It was the pain of seeing Katarina for the first time that rendered her silent. Unable to speak to her grown child, or touch her, she'd disappeared for a long time into the dark. No one could ever find her when they went looking, not even Heath. Kate languished in a ghostly form, pined to hold her daughter, longed to take human shape. It was no use.

Tomorrow, however, they would be free to roam together. Heath would give up his human form for now and they would no longer be seen by the rest of the world, at least until her transition was complete. One day hybrids and vampires would be accepted by the human race but that day had not yet arrived and it would not be safe for them to reveal themselves. Those were the rules. Being hybrid, Heath could only turn one human and that human, being part vampire, had had to wait two decades for restoration. Kate's form would be human, her body hybrid, with all the term implied. Neither of them would ever look older than their mid-twenties. Heath would be there to help her final transition, to encourage her, to love her.

He had been travelling, on a tour of his European offices as she had languished in hibernation in The Hall. Over the years she looked on in agony as the children grew. They were her greatest joy. On occasion she visited Katarina at night, resting her face on the child's cheek, mindful she could never actually touch her. Eventually, she hoped they would discover an elixir; that instead of vanishing together, (the price Heath would pay for her complete transformation), they would be revealed simultaneously.

Heath had told no one he was winding up the companies in America and selling most of his property. It took many weeks. When he returned to London he only left the house to go riding on his favourite horse and sometimes he went for long walks across Hampstead, through the park, and back again. Kate was transforming. Her image appeared to him more than briefly, for moments, and in daylight, not just dreams. He'd become more and more silent to the point where even Greta, who had long ago realized that Heath was not like other men, had taken to worrying constantly about him.

He would miss Greta and the children, who were now grown but they would not miss him. He knew it.

He'd stopped pestering the boys about study or work, stopped worrying about the future of his companies (they would cease to exist soon enough and the cash signed over to Katarina, Linus and Hinton). Heath had long ago stopped asking about any of his old rivals and acquaintances, stopped being interested in the world around him.

That night, before the morning of change, when Hinton, Linus and Katarina came to see him, he was congratulatory but distant. Linus seemed more terse than usual and Katarina and Hinton were blissful in each other's company. The general malaise which Heath had embraced now seemed to affect all areas of his life. He had long since ceased trying to control the younger generation around him. He even congratulated Linus on his new start at University, he told him he was 'extremely proud of him, whatever he chose to do but that "enjoying life" was just as important as a formal education.'

It was all very out of character, according to Greta, who left early after the party that night. Heath had relented and made a brief appearance after Katarina left another invitation at The Hall. Hinton insisted on kissing her goodbye on the cheek and hugged her. His body was cool, his breath light. He assured her he was feeling perfectly alright.

The next morning, Greta noticed Heath's bed had not been slept in and he'd lost weight, so much weight that suits hung off him, but he'd stopped wearing them, anyway. Greta had long since stopped suggesting he take anti-depressants. Heath just laughed and told her he didn't need her help or anyone else's.

Something strange happened in the silence and emptiness of Hareton Hall when he returned. These days, it wasn't just when he slept. The attic was inhabited by a young girl, there was no question. Greta invaded the attic one day and found packets of lollies, uneaten crisps, shoes, socks, dresses, ancient dolls and ribbons. Then there were the strange, empty vials of elixir which looked like…blood.

The first time Kate came to him in human form, he'd been in the drawing room attending to the paperwork on his latest company acquisition. He looked up to see some birds flying beyond where Hareton Hall was situated. They looked so free, so wild.

It was three in the afternoon and a clear day. No one was in the house, on the floor where the study was, yet all his pens and papers had been sorted into neat piles when he walked back to his desk.

It had been eighteen human years since he'd seen her. He sat on his favourite chair and felt a reach on his shoulder, like a whisper, the touch of her hands was so light, so transient.

'Kate.'

'Heath.'

'I knew you'd come back to me,' he said.

He held her hand for a moment and looked at her perfect face until she was gone.

From that moment, he searched for her with some hope of finding her transitioned and whole. He was reminded of the night he begged her as she lay lifeless on her bed, 'Come back to me, Kate. Haunt me, drive me mad…'

'Only if you turn me, change me…make me yours forever.' Somehow the timing was wrong. Somehow they'd met in the middle and once again, they'd been kept apart, made to wait. Both of them like ghosts, only one of them real.

That day, she must have heard him.

He tried to put the image of her from his mind, at first, because it interfered with work, with his day. For many years, she only visited at night in what he tried to believe were his dreams.

_When Hinton came to stay, permanently, after Harrison had drunk himself stupid and wished to stay in the cottage, I insisted Hinton should stay in the main house and Heath should hire more help (he did, without question or interest)._ _Heath always seemed distracted and secretive, for a reason,_ Greta wrote in the journals I read that night, after my final visit to Hareton Hall. _I had as soft a spot for Hareton as I had for Heath, _she wrote._ Although I know I helped to raise a wolfish man, you must understand how difficult life had been for him and how his ambition had been fuelled by his loss and his early life and his…condition. Both Heath and Kate, both young and headstrong, helped to create the adult paths their lives had taken, but they deserved better. They deserved to be together, it is just a shame they managed to hurt so many people in the process. Although Annabelle remarried and found happiness at last - becoming the manager of her own gallery…' _Greta added as an afterthought.

Heath wandered up the stairs that final night, with a copy of Kate's favourite novel, _Jane Eyre, _in his hands. He placed it by the bed next to her photograph. He'd removed the photograph when Annabelle had lived with him here, but it hadn't helped him forget Kate. He'd read _Jane Eyre_ when he was younger, at Kate's insistence, unable to see the parallels to their own isolated existence and the seeking of great love.

**Chapter Thirty-eight**

_**Happiness**_

Katarina had been meeting Hinton for months by the time Heath had made plans to sign the freehold title of his estate over to them. It was a regular pattern.They met at a studio space, rented out by the Art College, in Soho.

Katarina loved getting out of North London. She was used to being in central London but she particularly loved the winding cobbled streets of Soho and the West End lights. She'd dressed up for the occasion, knowing that she and Hinton had a special dinner planned to celebrate the one year anniversary of their first meeting.

Instead of going to Hampstead, they decided on a tiny restaurant here, beside the studio space. Hinton had something he wanted to show her that did not include a pen and paper.

In return, Katarina had a gift she had made to give him.

They kissed as lovers do, warm and close. It was as if they had always been like this. Although it had taken them many months to feel comfortable in each other's company, they now trusted each other completely. Hinton took Katarina's hand as they went to the studio together, tripping through crowds and Christmas lights of a frosty London winter.

'Quick, Katarina, I want to show you something.'

'Yes Hinton, I have something important to tell you also, something I've been saving for today.'

Hinton looked at her in the street, as they stood still together as the crowds bustled around them. Her face shone with beauty, hope and expectation.

Hinton had dreaded this moment - the moment he knew in his heart would eventually arrive. Everyone he had been close to, even momentarily, had abandoned him. First his own parents, whom he'd never met, then his adopted parents; even his adopted uncle had shown little interest in him beyond teaching him to fight back and be sullen and not trust another living soul. But he trusted this girl and she sensed his desperation when she said she had something important to tell him. Hinton's face was downcast, he knew it was irrational. They'd never had an argument since the day they'd met but still the thought remained that she might be breaking up with him. After all, he needed plasma every nine hours to exist.

'I…I knew you would…tire of me…you are such an amazing person but…'

'Oh no, Hinton, you misunderstand…Hinton …I …love you. I think I've loved you since we both sounded out the word "incandescent" …you are…the most original, amazing…'

He put his finger on her mouth, happy that the night had not been ruined, and the surprise was still before them.

'Before you say anything else, you need to see this…'

They had reached the studio, a small building, one floor up on a tiny side street in Soho.

Hinton opened the door slowly.

He wrapped his tie across her eyes.

'Wait,' he said.

'Hinton, what are you up to?'

'I'm showing you something I've been working on over the autumn. It's something special…it's my future.'

Kate stood still in the centre of the room, an empty room with tall ceilings apart from the painting on the easel in the middle.

'Open your eyes.'

Katarina stood in her coat, flicks of snow upon her shoulders and glanced at the tall, handsome boy with the kind eyes, then glanced back at the painting of her.

'What do you think Katarina?'

'It's…amazing. I'm speechless…'

'It won first prize. You won me first prize.'

The picture that stared back at them was of a young woman's face, an identical artist's interpretation of the beautiful girl in the room. The haunted look in her eyes was replaced with something verging on both satisfaction and calm. If there was a word to describe the expression on Katarina's face in the portrait, it would be love.

'You are the reason I won this scholarship. I'm going abroad for the summer…'

Kate's face dropped…

'Well, that's wonderful… I had something for you but now…'

Kate realized Hinton had meant more to her than she to him, for he was the one contemplating leaving.

Hinton took her hands in the shadow of the exquisite painting. Light beamed in from Soho streetlamps. Wind whipped up leaves on the cobbled stone. He could hear her heart and tried to stop himself from hearing her thoughts. He'd consulted a specialist who'd said by twenty-one, his needs would be fully formed. But for tonight, he was okay. Together, they were warm and safe.

'It's just that… I made something for you, but I don't know if I should give it to you now. I mean, now that you are going…'

Katarina sat on the forgotten lounge which had been covered in an old painter's canvas sheet. There were splotches of blue and pink oil paint around the frayed edges of the material.

Hinton moved towards her slowly, blood tightening in his veins. He hesitated.

'That's just it, Katarina. I don't want to go alone. I know you shouldn't accept me, as I am and I know it's early to ask you this - we are young…I am…different, to say the least but…'

Katarina looked more intently at him, not wanting to anticipate his meaning without having it spelt out before her. He wanted her to go with him… or did he?

It was easier for him. All his life he had felt unloved until now. Hinton did not want any misunderstandings or any lack of clarity to mess things up the way love had messed up the people around him - his adopted Uncle, for example.

'I… I love you. And I was wondering if you could overlook…'

Hinton got down on one knee on the bare floors, his mouth watering with nerves, his blood tight in his veins…

'I…am wondering…would you do me the honour…'

Katarina was surprised. She had thought he'd meant her to travel with him but…this.

'Yes,' Katarina said…

'I haven't asked…' he began.

'Ask the question,' Katarina smiled.

'Katarina Spencer…I know we are young, I know we should be fearful of my…condition, but I've never been surer of anyone. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'

'Yes,' Katarina said.

In the shadow formed by street lamps, the young lovers kissed.

**Chapter Thirty-nine**

_**Wuthering Nights **_

It was an icy winter evening in Hampstead as he spread out all of the documents that ridiculous lawyer had required of him for the transferral of property and funds. He was sure he hadn't neglected anything. He left no notes but he knew Greta would do as he wished. She had not been forgotten either. There was an envelope for her which would be sure to allow her to live in luxury for the rest of her life. Apart from Kate, she had been the most loyal person he'd known.

Heath dressed in his warmest black turtle neck jumper and found his boots and the coat he liked best and wore most often. He heard a tap at the window, rain mixed with the branches of the tree outside, hail trickling onto the roof, reminding him of her beautiful face and pale fingers reaching for him.

It was not unusual any more. The waiting, the anticipation, the brief visits that had prolonged his years. He had taken to staying out late then driving home at two in the morning. But tonight was different, tonight she hadn't come to him and he knew it was because it was his turn to find her. Kate was waiting for him in the dark, on the heath, in human form.

She called to him when no one could hear, no one but him.

'I've missed you…' She said, 'I told you I'd come back to you.'

'Kate,' he whispered, 'it's been forever…' he said under his breath, glad she was so restless, like him, a twin soul.

**Epilogue**

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London. **_

In the morning, I was called to investigate the business transactions of a certain Heath Spencer and the links amongst his family which allowed him to divide his assets between three heirs. I was alarmed by news of his passing, but not surprised. The Spencers hadn't made it public and there was no note so it had taken some years for the law to rule that he'd died "of exposure" in the night. It was all rather strange, since his body was never found.

Rather than try to navigate the heath on a frosty winter morning, I stopped and parked near the local pub again and decided to enjoy the ten minute walk along the winding, private road that led to the imposing exterior of Hareton Hall. I was due to visit the new owner, Hinton Spencer, a young man who was married to Katarina Hunt. They had a three year old child and were in a hurry to get the documents signed because they were due to leave for America to spend a summer painting abroad. They were taking an extended vacation and assured me they did not care to live at The Hall but did not wish to sell the place, either. It was a simple matter of the transfer of documents that I'd waited some years to finalize. Hareton Hall would then be returned to its rightful owners.

It was a grinding walk, starting flat and easy and heading ever so slightly up hill, and then, when the sleet and wet started, down again. I was glad I could see the imposing house in the distance.

When I finally arrived there was not a hint of movement, save wind across ground, whipping the heather into a lavender mix in the distance. Up close, there was no sign of the housekeeper either whom I'd been led to believe still lived at Hareton Hall. There was no sign of anything. The fact that the owner had gone "missing" had led to many years of legal uncertainty.

An elderly man, wearing gloves, who looked like he worked with animals, wandered out from the stables, as if from nowhere. He must have been close to ninety years old.

'Is anyone at home?' I asked.

'Not likely,' he replied. 'I've just come from exercising the horses…'

'Is the owner here?'

'You could say that, many do…' he replied enigmatically. He looked at me strangely as he walked into air.

I wandered around to the side of the house, where the cobwebs grew and the foliage had been left wild, giving the lower floor of Hareton Hall the appearance of being covered in unruly brownish lace. There were windows and doors shut tight and locked. The garages were closed and the stables remained empty apart from one where a door had been left swinging open. The grounds themselves, once manicured, had grown wild and lush with secrets.

The owner, I thought, the young man I sought, a Mr Hinton Spencer, must have risen early to go riding across the heath with his wife.

Then I remembered the tales of ghouls and ghosts, the objects seen moving in windows, the people long gone that neighbours reported having seen only days ago. Someone in particular, a young woman with long dark hair who wandered the corridors and played loud music, turning on all the lights during wild, evening parties and lighting hundreds of fire -hazardous candles. I'd assumed the reports were simply jealous neighbours complaining about the noise created by the beautiful young wife, the new Mrs Spencer who'd also had the keys and the run of Hareton Hall. Since the noise always stopped at midnight, there was little anyone could do.

I was about to give up, admit defeat and return the copies of the papers declaring transfer of original ownership to the rightful heirs of Hareton Hall, when I saw the curtains in the upstairs window move. A young girl with long dark hair glanced down at me and smiled. I knocked loudly and waited for a long time, but still, no one answered.

'Katarina Spencer,' I announced, calling out distinctly, although I knew Katarina would be older now and the woman at the window was barely out of her teens. The downstairs curtains waved and I thought perhaps the housekeeper might be there. I looked up again. The girl who stood at the window was beautiful, otherworldly. The image disappeared before my eyes in a mirage of dark curls, cream lace and ruby cheeks.

I was convinced the cold, like the heat, could make you see a mirage in the mist yet I waited on the doorstep for a long time. No one answered. I was tempted to look back as I walked towards my car. For the first time in my life I didn't need proof. I was sure the rumours I'd heard were true, though my notes had many pages missing. As I drove towards The Grange, I was certain the lovers who had once inhabited Hareton Hall, lived there still. The girl had not aged a day since she was last seen alive, more than twenty years ago.

Summer Day is the author of Pride & Princesses, a novel for young adults inspired by Pride and Prejudice and Anne Eyre, a YA novel inspired by Jane Eyre. Follow Summer Day on:

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276


	6. Edmund and Annabelle Chapter 5

Wuthering Nights by Summer Day

Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer: 

Wuthering Nights

Copyright © 2012 Summer Day

All rights reserved worldwide.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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*Note to Readers: UK Spelling / Punctuation used in Wuthering Nights

**WUTHERING NIGHTS **

**Prologue**

**From the journal of Greta Gardner, February 1978**

_The boy arrived at night, wrapped in a blanket. He was carried by his adopted father who placed him on the kitchen floor next to me. His big blue eyes stared out from under his wild black hair. He shrank from the fire, he shrank from my touch, yet his skin was cold as ice… _

_He arrived with a list of instructions tucked into the pocket of his jacket. _

_Eats - mostly chicken and oranges (likes: roast chicken, blood oranges and plums). _

_Drinks - mostly water and citrus juice._

_First warning - do not let him go in the sun often as he burns easily. _

_Second warning - make sure he wears his necklace amulet (a parting gift from his biological mother). He screams if you take it. _

_Final Warning - do not let him go out at night alone. _

_As a small boy (just walking) he had a tendency to wander off, and many times staff at the orphanage were unable to find the little fellow for hours. Once, he was found hanging upside down from the roof of the school gymnasium, like a bat. The only giveaway was the drip drip drip of juice as he stuffed his baby face with blood oranges._

_His file was then stamped: Special Needs. _

_I shook my head as I read this. I was sure Mr Spencer had finally lost his mind dragging the mite all the way back from Spain. It was many years before I learnt the full extent of his malady._

**Chapter One**

_**Hareton Hall**_

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London, Present Day**_

When I saw the house in the fragile light, I could barely make out the lines of gothic architecture in the morning mist. I'd heard whispers about the strangeness of the place. I was told that I risked my life going there; that the owner brandished a gun and roamed the heath looking for his lost love. Music and chatter, laughter and screams could be heard miles away in the night. Neighbours said the lovers who'd inhabited Hareton Hall lived there still, as young and beautiful as they ever were; haunted.

The family, the Spencers, originated in Yorkshire and could trace their lineage back a thousand years. Their secrets wove through history and time and family portraits. I held in my hand a photograph of Mr Spencer, an aristocrat with an interest in archaeology, returning from a trip to Spain with a small child. Among other documents, there was a photograph of the entire family, arriving to greet Mr Spencer and his newly adopted son at the airport. The family were generationally wealthy. Mr Spencer had an interest in Botany. According to my documents, he kept to himself and his study. Within the file, I also retained the marriage notice of the daughter, Kate. This was long before the family feud that had ignited decades of dispute.

In the picture was a beautiful mother with ink black curls. The older teenage boy, Harrison, had a scowl on his face and headphones on his ears. He appeared tuned out from the proceedings. The girl, her dark curls tied with an unruly red ribbon, revealed an adorable cherub face. Aged six, she peeked out from behind her mother and stole the picture. It was this child's face I remembered long after I'd set the image aside.

As I walked along the winding road that led from Hampstead Heath towards Hareton Hall, I passed another magnificent home, The Grange. This was a Georgian mansion hidden behind a maze of orange trees as opposed to The Hall where photographs showed gargoyles at its entrance. The signatures I was required to collect involved the ownership of both properties.

I'd been advised not to try to park along the icy road that connected the houses on opposite sides of the heath. Instead, I'd driven to a spot along the frosty lane which meant I had to walk the rest of the way in the rain. Late afternoon seemed to be losing light but then all the days were dark now as London turned rapidly into winter. It was not a good time to walk about the borough. A man had recently gone missing and was yet to be found. As I was surrounded by street crime in my first position as junior solicitor at a criminal law firm, I was not perturbed.

I pushed the family photograph, covered in plastic, deep inside my briefcase along with some handwritten journals kept by Kate Spencer, the only daughter of the house, and one by the housekeeper, Greta Gardner. Greta's journal contained a collection of various yearly expenses with some alarming family details written in the margins. Both contained valuable information entrusted to me. I noticed The Grange to my right, a well-kept home, built not far from a local landmark, Kenwood House. The Grange held some of the allure, yet I suspected hosted none of the secrets, of Hareton Hall.

The history of the Spencer family haunted me as I walked. I remembered words and snippets from the bizarre journals. For example, Heath was described as_, "a pale little boy with sharp milk teeth!" _This journal scribble was mixed with the photographs I resolved to return to their rightful owner. As I rounded the corner, I was almost as keen to talk to Greta Gardner, the housekeeper and keeper of secrets, as I was to speak with the owner of The Hall.

The heath was silent and stark in bare winter.

I'd visited during summer as a child but never with such purpose in my step. To my right and to my great relief, I saw the entrance to a pub. I'd been there with my family once, just after I'd graduated from university. I decided to warm myself and ask for directions.

The Horse and Ale used to serve delicious roast dinners and hot toddies. I hoped it hadn't changed too much in the intervening years.

I settled in front of the fire, grateful for the familiarity as I drank my hot, strong mulled wine. When the waiter asked me if I needed anything extra, I asked him for directions to Hareton Hall.

'Who wants to know?' The low, gruff voice of a man, perhaps in his thirties, spoke to me from behind one of the many sofas. He had a plate of what appeared to be lamb, dipped in gravy and a large pint of dark ale in his hand. His dog lay lovingly, sleeping at his feet, apparently unbothered by the smell of roasted meat.

'Ah, I do.'

'Really? And who might you be?'

To say he was unfriendly would be an understatement.

'I'm well, who are you?'

He almost laughed.

'I asked you first.'

'I'm Tom Bennett, the junior partner from _Bennett & Sons_. I have an appointment at Hareton Hall.'

'To see the owner?'

'Yes, and who might you be?'

'I am the owner.'

He didn't smile. He rose slowly. For a youngish man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. He looked like a hard partying insomniac. I offered him my hand and he took it obligingly. If I was trained to comment on such things, which I suppose I am, I'd say he was tall and fairly handsome. The air of sleeplessness hung over him like a cloud. He was polite yet unfriendly; he did not smile. He was unshaven; his dark shirt was unironed but expensive. He stared at me coldly.

The publican scurried off to some far flung corner of the establishment. One of the lights overhead flickered as the man moved closer to me. He picked up an implement from the fireside and stoked the flame.

I took another sip of my drink and waited for him to speak.

'Well then, it's me you've come to see. Place is empty, except for my housekeeper Greta, a few horses in the stables and the dogs.

'Perhaps I could come to Hareton Hall?'

'What for?'

'It would help if I sighted the property and it may be easier to talk there.'

'I am busy this evening. If you had come earlier as arranged…'

'I was detained. It was further away from Hampstead than I expected.'

'Even so, I don't have visitors at night. I shall arrange for you to come tomorrow morning. Twenty minutes.'

'It may take more than twenty minutes.'

The rain poured down overhead and with it the darkness of early winter. For once, I was glad as a young man, not to have to hurry back to a wife and family.

The man shrugged.

'Well, it's getting late. You can stay here tonight - for free; I own the pub. I'll send my driver to get you at nine in the morning. We can finalize the matter then.'

He smiled for the first time at the blonde, middle-aged woman who entered the room and moved softly behind the bar.

'This is Greta; she used to be the housekeeper at Hareton Hall; raised me as a child; she'll fill you in on the story. Look after him Greta and see he gets a comfortable bed.'

Greta looked at me warily.

He whistled to his dog, a large amiable Labrador who obviously worshipped his master.

The dog sat up and barked. I think his owner was used to people behaving in a similar manner.

It turned out Greta had quite a tale to tell as she chatted to me by the fireside that evening. I asked her to identify her household journal and she was pleased to do so. I marked it as "Exhibit A" in my head; it was to be a wealth of information. I had the journal open on my knee as we talked. The Spencer crest hovered above us as Greta spoke in detail about the family she'd once served. Before I retired to bed, I could not resist writing down what she said as I did not want to forget what she told me. As I offered to pay for my drinks, I was more intrigued than ever about the legends of Hareton Hall and the fate of the Spencer children who lived there, more than thirty years ago…

**Chapter Two**

_**Wild Child **_

I read Greta's words as I rested on the hotel bed. They were written in a firm, definite hand:

_February 1978 (second entry) - we were not sure what country the child originated from. When Mr Spencer brought him back from his trip, I thought he'd finally gone mad, like his ancestors. I said, 'You were searching for fossils, not people!' But he just shrugged and said, 'Well, I saw him on the street and no one claimed him so I filled in the paperwork, paid a requisite sum and now here he is. All this had happened many months before the actual collection. Perhaps the child was originally from Europe or maybe as close as Liverpool? The foundling had papers to say he was ours, signed by a solicitor, no less. He didn't speak a word that first night. His bell bottom jeans and shoes were filthy and caked with mud from the walk along the driveway. Dirt splattered on my kitchen floor. I thought it was very inconsiderate of Mr Spencer not to have put clean clothes on him but grown men rarely think of small comforts. The dark haired, six-year-old person stared at me blankly and flinched when I tried to go anywhere near him. He kicked and scratched me so hard when I went to take his jacket (where I read the "instructions") that I honestly wondered how I'd cope looking after a child in such a…state. Harrison, almost eight years the child's senior, shoved the boy when he thought no one was looking and whispered to him before leaving the house, 'Who do you think you are? Invading my home like this… I'll make you pay, charity case!'_

_Kate, who had always been naughty (a fact belied by her pretty and innocent face), and never close to her much older brother or absent socialite mother, became attached to the new boy who we named Heath and resolved to raise as part of our family… _

It was all rather formal yet strangely personal.

I'd learnt, as a child, Heath Spencer had no language and apparently very little memory of his origins. He'd certainly made up for it judging by the detailed and sophisticated legal correspondence he'd addressed to me personally and which I had spread out on the desk in my room. Heath's letters addressed the various ownership and personal scandals involving both himself and his adopted relatives in almost forensic detail. Events happened a long time ago, but the origins and complex story of the properties in question, both Hareton Hall and The Grange, involved both the Spencer and Hunt families whose paperwork I now studied. Their generational feuds had been the talk of the firm, behind closed doors, of course.

According to family tradition, the Spencer children were sent away to school the year they turned twelve. However, the friendship between the two youngest children began much earlier, with a whisper. It was as if Kate was the first to know, although his adopted father must have suspected. There was something different about Heath.

The first night the child arrived, Kate wandered up to him when he was left alone in the kitchen and the little boy hissed at her, baring his tiny, white incisor fangs. Kate scowled then smiled and moved towards the small boy, rather than rejecting him. As if he were some exotic pet, she tried to pat his head. The boy, suddenly ashamed of his behaviour, covered his mouth. Heath had only recently learned how to recede his little fangs but sometimes they came out when he was frightened or stressed. Kate took his hand and led him upstairs.

When they were in the play room, she asked him to explain more. It was their secret, she told him. Kate loved to have secrets. The little boy didn't know what to tell her.

'I was born this way,' he whispered.

His biological father had kept notes but Mr Spencer wanted proof. After many secretive tests with a Vampire specialist on Harley Street it was explained to Mr Spencer that the child had a rare condition. There was a line of Spanish vampires from thousands of years ago that he possibly descended from through his mother. His blood type was unknown. What they did ascertain was that the child might grow out of his ways and never fully mature into a "blood sucker" as the specialist called his "breed". He also warned Mr Spencer, "Tell no one." Fearing society would reject his new son, Mr Spencer agreed.

Heath was told his cravings for blood would not reach full maturity until he did (at around eighteen) and in the meantime, he could be easily sustained with a diet high in protein and iron. He would keep ageing until then. As the venom in his blood was diluted, he would be given protection from sun. His image would appear in photographs and mirrors until it began to fade in adulthood. Kate's father had been assured by the vampire specialist it was completely safe for Heath to go to church and be around other children.

Mr Spencer was given a list of instructions similar to the ones the boy arrived with; that he had to be careful of the child's fair skin in the sun, (although a small amount wouldn't hurt as long as he took his daily supplements and wore a pendant protecting him from daylight). According to the notes, the child's mother was horrified the baby had crackled and almost burnt in the light. Heath had also tried to bite her when nursing. Finally, unable to cope, his mother had left him with Spanish nuns when he was just three months old. She had placed the protective amulet around the baby's neck along with a kiss as she broke down and put him in a basket outside the gates of the orphanage. As he grew, incorrigible, the child daily escaped and ran himself ragged along the Spanish streets. That was how Mr Spencer found him, pale and hungry for protein, like a wild kitten.

After the child arrived at Hareton Hall his incisors were painlessly filed down during regular check-ups at the family dentist and life resumed as normal. Life for Heath was a regular routine of vitamin taking, avoiding the sun, wearing his amulet (even in the bath) and craving roast dinners (his favourite). The child was deemed eccentric and wild but no one except Mr Spencer, Kate and Heath knew he was actually different. He had cravings for cooked, red meat, a desire to sleep half the day and stay up all night, but those were habits and slowly, Heath conformed to the ways of the household.

On one occasion, he had been caught off-guard when Kate's mother had walked in on the child playing with his train set and Heath, suddenly frightened, sensed an intruder. He turned round and hissed, before realizing the full impact of what he had done. His new mother fled from the room screaming, "He's not normal! He's just not normal!" Heath tried to apologize. The woman wouldn't listen. She packed her bags and wanted to take Kate with her; the little girl refused to go.

After Kate's mother left Hareton Hall, her father withdrew from the world. Mr Spencer retired from normal life and began to live in relative seclusion. He went for long walks during the day and took trips abroad, collecting plants to study and write about in his home office.

Growing up, Kate and Heath ran wild. As the years wore on, Mr Spencer became a hermit and slept often, worked in the garden and read the Bible fireside in the afternoons. One by one, the staff began to give notice, except the housekeeper Greta, who'd been with the family since she was sixteen. Greta had more to do than keep track of the wayward children who were soon expelled from the local primary school for "non-attendance, unruly behaviour" and (worst), "attempted biting," something Kate hotly denied as Heath looked on sheepishly.

Although Greta knew Heath was unusual, he'd managed not to reveal his secret to her. There had to be something wrong with him, Greta thought, but nothing that boarding school wouldn't fix. Besides, no one was perfect.

Although Mr Spencer felt especially partial to his youngest children, he began counting the days until they were old enough to be sent to Yardley Mansion School in Scotland, a Spencer family tradition. Perhaps they would learn something useful about discipline in such a prestigious establishment. After all, it would be nearly impossible to escape lessons there and Heath's condition seemed almost entirely under control, his penchant for roast dinners aside. But after all, who except vegetarians did not like a good roast?

When Heath grew stronger (useful against Harrison) and his inclinations grew rougher, he hid them and learned to control his desire to sometimes nip Kate on her leg or arm. In fact, he'd be horrified if she knew he once imagined tasting the pretty little vein in her wrist.

He'd educated himself and knew biting was wrong and never in a billion years would he wish to hurt the person he loved most in the world. Heath religiously took his supplements, wore his amulet and kept himself sustained with his favourite juice and meat. As he grew older, his cravings were not subsiding quite as easily.

Heath was closer to Kate than anyone. Apart from Kate's father, whom Heath regarded warmly, she was the only friend he'd ever had. Well, except for Greta, who, after a faltering start, grew to look upon Heath with great fondness. At first Heath didn't like Greta. She was always huffing and puffing in the kitchen about the extra work and ignored him when he asked lots of questions until he stopped talking altogether and then she said things like, "Has the cat got your tongue, young man?"

Harrison was at home for half-term holidays when the children started playing a particularly savage game of sardines. Heath had been caught running through the attic by Harrison and was beaten with a stick. Heath then (unsuccessfully) tried to drive his homemade stake into the older boy's leg. After witnessing Harrison's cruelty, Greta had become Heath's ally. She told Mr Spencer who reprimanded Harrison for picking on the smaller child and withdrew the older boy's financial privileges for a month. Harrison was angry; the boy was half his height but twice as strong.

'I'll get you back for this, charity case,' the older boy said as he again hit Heath when nobody else was about. There was enough force in that clip to make Heath's ear bleed. Heath bared his teeth, as he waited for the strength in his venom to take over. Kate swiped her elder brother and before long the three of them were wrestling, pushing, kicking and shoving each other until the little girl was almost squashed in the pile beneath. This just led the two boys to start fighting all over again. Heath bit Harrison on the wrist and spat out the taste just as quickly. Harrison called him a "little animal". Kate screamed so hard Greta had to race up the stairs to break them up.

Harrison would have been sent back to school to suffer the long weekend alone before term started but Greta noticed spots on all three children as she was sending them out of the room separately. They had developed chicken pox, which Harrison blamed on the local "state school scum" - Heath and his bratty little sister's school friends.

'Oh be quiet, Harrison!' Greta warned. 'I think it is far more likely that you carried the chicken pox back with you from that posh boys' school your father pays the earth for…'

Chastened, Harrison went back to bed moaning and demanding more sympathy. Both Harrison and Kate, spoiled before their mother left, demanded to be waited on hand and foot but not Heath. He had lain there, expecting very little sympathy (eyeing the specially delivered basket of blood oranges), sleeping most of the day and happy to gnaw on a chicken leg when it was given. Because he was a stoic little boy, Heath had won Greta over. She kept the best treats for him - fruit and sandwiches for his lunch (the boy always left the bread and ate the meat) - fussing over him like a young mother. This too, bred Harrison's resentment. Heath, for the first time in his young life, basked in the adoration the females of Hareton Hall gave him, and he grew into a tall, robust child whom Greta predicted would be, "a real lady killer one day".

At eight years old, that day hadn't quite arrived.

**Chapter Three**

_**Kate and Heath**_

After Mr and Mrs Spencer separated, Hareton Hall was never the same.__Mutual loneliness, secrets and headstrong natures had drawn Heath and Kate into an alliance. The days went by and as they grew together, the children craved freedom.

One cold day in November Kate and Heath lay side by side on Hampstead Heath making starfish in the snow. There was no sun as usual. Their arms and legs reached out forming windmills in the ice, so that their fingers almost touched.

'Kate?' the small boy asked as he sat up and wrapped his scarf around his neck and ears. He had dark hair and blue eyes and was as strikingly good looking as the girl, with her midnight curls and icy, reddened cheeks. Both of them had perfectly white teeth from their frequent trips to the dentist and Heath, in eighteen months, had learnt how to control his fangs, perfectly. Now that he was a little older, he never revealed them in public and they didn't need to be filed anymore.

'Yes,' she replied.

'I wish Harrison would stop picking on us.'

'Me too, he's…mean. Every time he comes home from school I dread it. He takes over the house and pinches me and locks me in my room when no one is about. Ever since mother…I can't say the words,' she said as she put her small hand to her mouth and Heath noticed a tear drying on her face. The recent abandonment of Kate by her mother had not overly concerned Heath, since the woman had had nothing to do with him on a daily basis and had shown little interest in his upkeep. But he understood how it felt to be left and reached out to commiserate with Kate.

That first night, after Mrs Spencer left, Kate and Heath had played with the train set until, eyes heavy, they fell asleep together on the floor. Greta had placed a pillow under each small head. Ever after, they slept near each other or on opposite sides of the wall. They made hand puppet shows in the moonlight on the walls of the play room and Heath always let Kate win at games.

'Don't cry,' Heath told Kate that day in the Hampstead meadow. 'You have to be strong. If you cry, your tears will turn to crystal in this weather and freeze on your face. Imagine how awful that would look. Yuck.'

Kate laughed. 'Perhaps it's for the best. You can save my crystal tears in a jar,' she joked.

'I don't like it when you cry,' Heath said, wiping the tears from her face.

Kate sat up and sniffed into her coat sleeve.

The boy took her mittened hand.

'Never cry again, Kate. We must be stronger than that, stronger than them.'

'Stronger than this?'

Kate rolled up the edge of her jeans to where her knee showed the beginnings of a scab and a remarkably deep bruise.

'It happened when Harrison kicked me because I wouldn't give him the riding whip father bought me for my birthday. I was afraid he'd whip Hero too much.'

To her surprise, Heath moved forward, leaned over her leg, touched the scab and moved closer, almost as if he was going to lick it.

'That's gross,' Kate said, 'you were going to kiss it better like Greta would. , I hate kisses, unless I'm the one giving them!' the girl announced, pulling her leg closer.

Heath looked very dejected and turned his face away.

Kate smiled; glad to have evoked such a strong reaction. She was 'quite the little exhibitionist', as Greta told her once.

'I'm only kidding! Gotcha…' Kate smiled.

Heath grudgingly turned to face her.

Kate covered her knee and changed the subject. 'I heard you playing guitar this morning. I can hear you from my room when I wake up. You play much better than Harrison.'

Heath beamed with pride. He wasn't used to hearing praise before he'd moved to The Hall. His only real problem was his adopted brother.

As if reading his thoughts, Kate said, 'Never mind, we'll get Harrison back one of these days. C'mon, I'll race you to the bus stop. I found some coins in Harrison's coat pocket when he was sleeping. Now we can go and buy sweeties.'

Heath didn't want to disappoint her with his unnatural lack of desire for sugary lollies.

Instead, Heath picked up a stick and used it to plough through the snow quickly. He withheld the urge, like small children sometimes have, to bash the flower beds because he was fairly sure Kate wouldn't approve. In this way, the children civilized and complimented one another's personalities.

'One day, when we're grown up, I'll take care of you, Kate,' he said.

'Silly, you take care of me already.'

'When we're grown up we'll get married.'

'Even sillier, we're brother and sister.'

'Not really. We're not actually related.'

The boy was annoyed his suggestion had not been taken seriously. He reached into his pocket and dragged out a remarkably fresh, although slightly crumpled, wildflower.

'I've been saving this all morning to give to you,' he said, handing her the daisy.

'Thank you,' she said, dismissively. Kate was already thinking about how easily they could avoid going to school and go straight to the sweet shop instead.

The boy picked up his brown leather satchel and headed to the bus stop, ignoring Kate as he walked past her. 'That will teach her a lesson,' he thought.

'Stop! Now you are being the silly one,' the girl said. 'We both know we're not really brother and sister.'

Heath smiled at Kate as she took his hand. The frozen winds played with their hair and both children forgot their conversation as they ran to stop the bus as it moved forward. The little boy was amazed at how fast he'd begun to run, almost merging in double quick time across the meadow. He had to wait at the bus stop for the girl to catch up.

**Chapter Four**

_**The Grange**_

It was so cold Greta noticed Kate's breath first as she entered the kitchen and placed her school bag on the floor. Heath dawdled behind his eye-catching counterpart. Kate was meticulous about her appearance. Her perfect curls lay in bunches behind her ears, tied in royal blue ribbons, the colours of her school. Her long socks were not rippled as other children's were. In fact, the uniform she wore was in good condition, unstained and nearly uncrushed. Greta looked at Kate again. She knew that after her mother had fled, literally fled the house one night to go gallivanting around Europe with a man she'd met in rehab, Kate had become unmanageable - but bunking school? She really didn't know what to do about this.

From the moment Kate had been born her Papa had indulged her every childish whim, much to the displeasure of her mother who worried that the child would be spoiled and difficult, like Harrison. Well, he was in boarding school where Kate would surely be sent soon, just as her older brother had been.

As for the "wild child", as Greta thought of him, he looked completely unkempt – shirt hanging out, hair unbrushed, knees scratched. He ran upstairs to Kate's bedroom (a converted ballroom) or to his own, the more modestly sized room opposite, to play video games and listen to music. The children would lounge around on the floor (strewn with the striped wrappers of Kate's favourite boiled sweets) in the afternoons. They ate and listened to music, hardly bothering to even attempt their homework.

Heath had long ago discovered the path around the side of the house, through the kitchen door where the new au pair was standing and peeling potatoes for dinner. He fled past their elderly gardener and crept inside the kitchen, thinking he might sneak past, but Greta was too quick. She grabbed him by the hands.

'Wait.'

'What Greta?'

'Don't say "what", I know what you've been doing, or rather not doing.'

'You just said "what".'

'That's not what I meant.'

'Said it again…'

'Oh, you little rascal!'

Heath sighed.

'What is it Greta?'

'You haven't been to school, have you? You and Kate have been gallivanting on the High Street. I can't believe you've not been detained by police! The meadow must be too freezing even for both of you, scamps. And look at that bruise on your leg, Kate.'

Kate moved behind the bench protectively. She didn't want Greta to have too much knowledge about the behind-the-scenes household warfare.

'If that's Harrison's doing, I told you to tell me if he ever tries to hit either of you again! He's twice your age. Honestly, I don't know what this family has come to ever since your mother left. I'll be calling social services next. Or they'll be calling me.'

'Oh don't do that Greta. I just knocked into something when I was out riding…at pony club.'

Heath looked at Kate quickly, knowing if they told on Harrison again, it would only make matters worse the next time he came home.

'I told you to tell me if that older brother of yours so much as raises his voice. He wouldn't dare do it in my presence. But that doesn't give either of you an excuse to avoid school. It's a good thing Harrison is going away to University. By then, he won't even be coming home for holidays…'

Heath and Kate were too quick. Greta talked on whilst they ate everything on the kitchen countertop behind her.

When Greta stopped talking, Kate took a bottle of fizzy drink and Heath grabbed a packet of Parma ham and they raced up the stairs, rejoicing in the time when their play room was empty of responsible adults (almost always). They had the whole ancient second floor to themselves in the afternoons. They could play their games or crawl outside, along the ledge that connected them to the ground and the road that led them to The Grange. Heath liked to go fishing in the stream and learned to make an open fire and cook the food on it. He was more and more interested in living in this natural, primal way, even at such a young age.

Annabelle and Edmund Hunt were the same age as Heath and Kate and their nearest neighbours. They were so stuck up neither Heath nor Kate had ever spoken to them. The blonde girl had poked her tongue out at Kate once during ballet lessons at the local church hall. Neither of the girls had spoken to each another since.

Kate and Heath lived in a world of their own - a world with a secret language and two rooms that adjoined each other with archaic light fittings, tall ceilings and furniture passed down through generations.There was a shabby opulence surrounding their secret society of two. Kate's room had a canopied bed with cream sheets and a blanket and an old fashioned cream lace doll.

On occasions when the neighbourhood children were invited to tea, the doll's house intrigued all of Kate's jealous little acquaintances (mainly from school). But Kate never let Heath catch her staring at the perfect dolls in their pristine world longingly. She knew he'd think envy beneath her.

As he grew older, he became tougher and more boisterous, wanting to be outside more than inside which, Greta reasoned, was only natural in an almost twelve-year old boy. Heath remembered little of his origins. It was as if he'd only ever existed in Kate's world, something he knew to be untrue. Yet Kate's father was the only father he remembered. Mr Spencer had been kind to him so he loved him as he loved Kate. But he knew her father was not his real father and that the "blood" running through his veins had some kind of magic in it. He felt different to other boys his age - happier roaming the woods than sitting in a classroom.

Harrison, in his final year of school, was still a problem. Once, when he was home from school for a weekend and Mr Spencer was at a business conference in Brussels, Greta was called away for the afternoon. Kate's older brother rounded up the children after she left and locked them together in the attic after inviting some of his older school friends round to party. Harrison thought it would be fun to terrify the "little kids". Neither Kate nor Heath rewarded him with their tears but there had been an all-out fight in the hallway after the children had somehow managed to break the lock. Harrison hadn't expected this but it was the last time he underestimated Heath's strength.

When Kate's father arrived home early, only to discover Heath and Kate amidst a mess of teen partying and chaos, he hit the roof. Mr Spencer packed Harrison off to the strictest boy's boarding school in the South of England to complete his finals. It was a place where corporal punishment was yet to be banned another reason for the older brother to harbour resentment against the smaller children. They were soon to be packed off to Scotland, to a co-educational school, strict but far less rigid than where Harrison was going.

It was summer by then; Mr Spencer had grown frail just as Heath and Kate grew stronger and taller.

Hampstead was quiet. It was as if the entire borough had gone on holiday. Heath had taken to staying outside but on one particular rainy and overcast day, Kate took an entire chicken and a jug of orange juice out of the fridge and set out lunch in the upstairs playroom.

They sat together, enjoying their meal that last Saturday before they were due to board the train to Scotland. Both Kate and Heath had grown more studious in preparation for boarding school. They even finished reading the required list of books, lying on their backs, in the window seats of the playroom. Kate smiled at Heath - sometimes she thought her father had brought Heath home to be her exclusive friend.

September arrived after an endless summer of reading and night swimming in the indoor pool. The day before they were due to leave for Scotland, bright sun shone through the bay windows. Heath, uncomfortable, pulled his amulet close to his chest. His eyes felt sensitive to the light.

'C'mon children,' Greta said, wanting to make their last day at Hareton Hall memorable. 'Rise and shine. It's a lovely day. Why don't we all take a picnic outside and go to Hampstead Heath? School doesn't start until Monday. C'mon, get dressed.'

The children were excited as they pulled on their shoes.

In the parklands, Greta spread the checked blanket out on the lavender field under an umbrella and the children hungrily heaped food on plates. Heath got bitten by ants but barely made a peep even when Greta soothed his calf with warm tea. The boy had never known such care and in all his young years, never seen a spread of such magnificence. He ate three pieces of turkey, a chicken leg, ham, a left over chop, a slice of bacon and a huge glass of orange juice. Kate and Greta drank tea and ate most of the cucumber sandwiches.

Afterwards, the children went running to the ponds to feed the ducks. As Greta lay reading a magazine, Kate and Heath discovered the hidden conservatory in a secluded part of the park. It was like being in another world, one far removed from London or Spain or family fighting or anywhere they had ever known - a glass palace with a covered in roof and shards of dappled, muted light (not enough to make Heath's skin burn). The building was filled with remarkable tropical trees and flowers growing in an adjusted temperature. There were even garden chairs to sit on and stare in wonderment at the magical surroundings. Both children thought the same thing; that they'd found a remarkable secret, a place where they could hide…and meet.

**Chapter Five**

_**Edmund and Annabelle**_

This secluded section of Hampstead Heath also led to a hidden laneway that attached Hareton Hall to The Grange. Kate and Heath ran down the lane and it brought them out in the garden of the neighbouring property. They laughed when they saw their neighbours, Edmund and Annabelle, in the distance. Viewed through the low, floor-length windows of the Grange, the Hunt siblings were taking private dancing lessons. Heath had never seen a ballet class and thought the whole thing was hysterically funny. Kate thought it was rather beautiful, but she would never admit that. The Grange was a world beyond billowing cream curtains where all seemed tranquil and safe. When the dance teacher tried to demonstrate with Edmund, how to partner, Heath literally fell on the ground laughing.

'Who's out there?' Edmund shouted, turning towards the window. Heath and Kate crouched out of sight, beneath the sill.

'Mind you keep your eyes up here while we are dancing,' the woman, wearing leg warmers and a tight hair bun, scolded him. Edmund reluctantly looked away. Annabelle glanced up when the teacher wasn't looking and noticed two children. The boy looked vaguely familiar to her, about the same age, running away from the house in the long grass. The girl tumbled in the heather and before long they were laughing and running, fading into the meadow.

If anyone had asked, Annabelle would have described them as the opposite of her and her brother; free. The blonde girl wished she could join them. Instead, her glacial, childish image, secured in tight ballet slippers and pink ribbons, her unsmiling yet lovely face, mocked her in the mirror.

That night, Heath lay awake under the covers of his bed, his school trunk packed, his uniforms tagged with his initials, perfectly starched and ironed. The summer wind outside howled through the trees and rain fell softly on the roof. He could see shadows of the branches outside. A breeze swept through the heath across the pond and along the heather fields. Then all he could hear were the traces of it, and in those traces, a whisper, and in that whisper, the sound of a tap at his door.

Kate came wandering into his room with her hair in curlers as she wanted to make a good "first day" impression at her new school.

'You look ridiculous,' Heath said. 'Go back to bed. You know Greta has warned you about not distracting me now that we are going to be in separate houses at our new school.'

Kate, hurt, turned and walked out of the room. Heath was sorry to have been so mean but how could he explain his issues to Kate? Lately, the desire to sink his teeth into her wrist was becoming stronger. He'd been taking his medication twice a day and was just about to take his evening dose when Kate arrived to tell him her hopes and dreams for the future. She'd gone back to her room, crawled upon her quilted bed and fallen asleep, listening to the storm rage outside her window.

Late, very late that night, the young girl woke to the sound of the screaming trees and the branches thrashing the window pane. She would not be rejected this time and opened the connecting door to find Heath fast asleep.

'Heath,' Kate whispered. 'Wake up.'

'What's wrong?' the boy said, crawling out from the sleeping bag he slept in for security – the one Greta had tried, with little success, to take away from him these past six years.

'I had a dream about us.'

'Shh. Go back to sleep, Kate.'

'I dreamt I was left outside in the rain, freezing in winter. I cut my arm on your window and it bled and hurt and I had to beg you to let me inside…'

Heath groaned. 'Don't say things like that Kate. I would never hurt you.' He moved uncomfortably, the venom sometimes pulsed more strongly in his blood at night, but he'd never told anyone this. 'Go back to sleep, Kate. It's almost morning. You know Greta doesn't like it when you come in here anymore…' He was due to take his morning vitamins, and then he'd be sure to feel normal for at least eight hours.

Heath rolled over. Kate hovered again and began to cry as she rocked his sleeping bag, forcing him to open his eyes.

'Heath, Heath, wake up.' He rolled over unwillingly. 'Promise me…promise me something.'

'Alright, I promise, now go back to sleep.'

'Promise me, if that ever happens, you'll let me in.'

'Heath smiled and shook his head sleepily, 'I promise. Now go back to bed.' Heath took his capsules from the bedside table and gulped them down in the morning light.

Kate crawled beside him, dragging her blanket around her, as he turned over. The girl gained comfort from her nightmare only when she managed to rest her head in the crook of the reluctant boy's shoulder.

**Chapter Six **

_**Katarina – Present Day**_

After a relatively comfortable sleep and the beginnings of an unusual story told to me by Greta Gardner as I sat by the fire in the owner's favourite chair, I was more than intrigued. I finally visited The Hall the next morning, cited the property, spoke briefly to the owner regarding matters of importance and took down the details required. I was then, surprisingly, invited to dinner at the pub the following week to finish up our business. As I drove out of the gravel driveway and slowly passed the pub, I saw that it was closed for the morning. I imagined the fireside warmly lit in the evening and the owner, who harboured his own secrets, sitting in my place.

That evening, Heath sat in his favourite armchair, reading the newspaper with more interest than he usually showed. He had the look of a burnt out rock star in his late twenties, still handsome and relatively young. He called his dog to heel and turned to sit at his chair near the fire. Greta was nowhere in sight; she'd gone home earlier to take care of her own children. A barman had taken her place.

Heath was sipping ale and still reading the newspaper when he heard a gaggle of shrieking teenagers who instantly irritated him. It was legal to drink at eighteen but he wondered why - girls dressed like tramps in denim shorts and black tights chugging down alcohol was a negative result. He should have imposed a dress code, he thought gruffly. Society had really gone downhill since the nineties. Then he remembered some of the looks of that era were pretty bad, too. He must be getting old, he thought, although no one would have known it. His face was harder but retained the handsome, boyish features of his youth. Recently, since turning thirty-nine, he'd felt quite ancient. Yet many of his business associates assumed he was much younger than he really was. There was no point in an explanation, revealing the secret of his youth.

He resigned to gruffly patting his dog and when he looked up the teenaged girls began joking around, making more noise than before. One of them, with long blonde hair and too much black mascara, waved at him. He turned away and stoked the fire. He wondered where their parents were and felt annoyed that his candle-lit lair was being infiltrated by the local riff raff. He looked back at his paper and shook his head.

His own son, annoyingly public school educated and hopelessly addicted to clubbing and drinking and smart-mouthing him, would no doubt have tried to chat them up. Heath had mostly, throughout his bizarre and unexpected life, been interested in people who at least seemed the same age as he really was. Since school, he'd felt people who hadn't lived as much of the journey as he had, had less to teach him. There was also the inevitable problem of his lack of ageing. People had started to notice. One of his old school acquaintances had asked him if he was on human growth hormones.

Hard living had taken its toll but Heath would never look older than thirty. His specialist told him that, realistically, he shouldn't expect to physically age more than twenty-six years (the age when his bones stopped growing and his venom fully matured). His sleeplessness kept him looking closer to thirty. The only thing that could finish him was a prolonged dose of sunlight or a stake through his heart, but agelessness, immortality was becoming a problem. His friends and associates looked a decade older. The longer he stayed in Hampstead, the more the whispers grew until they became openly hostile questions.

Heath flicked past the entertainment section in the paper, highlighting yet another vapid celebrity. His gaze then rested on the financial columns of the newspaper.

Normally these articles would have bored him but since the most recent financial crisis, he'd found them a lot more interesting. The companies he'd bought and discarded prior to 2008 had made him very rich, even richer than the acquisition of land and residential property. He was so wealthy that he only kept the Hampstead house out of sentiment. Just the thought of being nostalgic at his age, when some were just beginning family life, made him question his own sanity.

The candle on the low table near him flickered and his dog barked, unexpectedly, causing Heath to look up from his paper; what he saw made him catch his breath for the first time in years.

Kate's face.

The hair was lighter and straighter, but the face and body were the same. Her eyes were identical. Dark brown and large with long black lashes, hiding secrets he had only learnt once: same height, same face, same voice. His breath was taken away with a low sigh and he knew if he didn't speak to this woman… who was barely more than a girl, he would regret it forever. Still, it would take another drink to work up the courage.

The girl, in her long cream scarf looked up and matched his gaze. In the minute it took for Heath to decide whether to speak with her, the band played that song Kate loved….

'_It's my favourite,' Kate had said, laughing as she swapped earphones and grabbed Heath's hand in the clandestine meeting they'd had in the ten minutes before morning classes started. 'You can't imagine how much I love this song,' she added, dragging him through the school hall making a sunny spectacle of herself…wearing way too much eyeliner to get through the day without detention._

The girl was the image of Kate, yet not Kate. She ordered a fizzy drink but a pint of ale was placed in front of her. She glanced around the room, noting Heath's drink which had somehow been swapped with hers. The waiter was clearly not paying attention. Heath wondered if he'd finally lost his mind as the girl's stare intensified. She looked back at the barman. Oblivious to being studied, Kate's double wore a jaunty beret on her dark hair and had a colourful smile on her lips as her friends toasted her birthday.

'Happy eighteenth Katarina!' they yelled in unison.

Heath remembered the date. He was reminded every year.

In that moment, he hesitated to approach her and instead, glanced down at his paper. Moments later, as Heath read wearily beside the fire, a voice said, 'I think we've been given the wrong drink.'

Heath could not resist a question as he looked up at her shiny adolescent face and she replaced the cocktail glass in front of him with the ale.

'You're not, it can't be, Kate Spencer's daughter?'

'Kate? Oh, you mean my mother Kate?'

'Yes.'

'I suppose so. I'm Katarina Hunt. This is my birthday, obviously,' the girl said, glancing back at her friends who hovered near the bar.

'I know,' Heath said, surprised anyone would think he could forget such a thing.

'My father and I live just across the Heath. I've seen your photograph in the newspaper. You must be, my uncle?'

Her statement was so loaded Heath didn't know where to begin.

'Yes. You…you are my son's cousin.'

'My cousin… that's right… big family secret, no one speaks about it. None of the family even speaks to each other, clearly. How is it possible you don't look a day over thirty?'

'It's…the dark,' Heath replied.

She made a joke of it as only the young can. She was looming at the table now and had the audacity to pat his dog on its shaggy head. Heath's pet beamed from all her attention, a fact that Heath found mildly irritating.

'Do I… do I look like my mother?' the teenage girl said as the fire flickered.

And then it occurred to Heath, that instead of answering he could make her an offer she'd find difficult to refuse. After all, it was not too late and it was the girl's right to meet her cousin and see her mother's childhood home.

'Why don't you come back with me… to Hareton Hall? Her portrait remains on the wall. I'm headed there now. You can meet your cousin. There are also some photographs you might never have seen from…before. I'm sure your…father…won't mind.'

Katarina's eyes flashed and Heath saw a great deal of Kate's personality once again. It almost scared him, but not quite.

'Heel,' he said to his dog who'd started yapping excitedly (again) and was obviously beside himself at the smell of new company.

'Behave yourself,' Heath growled.

'Well, my friends…'

Katarina glanced back to the bar as the tall girl with blonde hair wandered over and gave Heath a bemused smile. Katarina introduced them to each other.

'Oh, so this is your uncle, Katty?' the girl asked in disbelief, as if to say, _yeah, right, he's way too young and hot._

'Kind of…we've only just met.'

Katarina's friend stifled a giggle as if she didn't believe her but either way, she didn't care. If Katty wanted to chat to this hot older man, that was her affair.

'Well, the night is young and so are we but we have to be going, early game tomorrow and all that. Are you coming with us Kat?'

At that moment Heath wore his most amiable expression.

Katarina knew she might only get this one chance to discover all she could about the people she'd only seen once or twice in old photographs.

The man in front of her was young and extremely handsome, yet so hard and cold. Something in her desired to visit his world, meet the cousin she'd never met as a child, see the house where her mother had been raised, learn the secret her family had kept for a generation.

'No,' Kate said. Then she looked at Heath and added, 'I'm coming with you.'

**Chapter Seven**

_**The Storm **_

His cravings had been less extreme this evening and he was fairly sure the parlour, where he kept his supply of freshly caught game, was locked. He did not wish this stranger to encounter an instant surprise. It would turn her off ever returning and Heath did not want to risk that just yet. He could only imagine the look of horror on her face if she was to discover his secret. They reached the gates through the midnight mist and Heath stopped the car with a jolt. He drove the vehicle fast and hard. He was not used to having guests. Heath had little thought for his passenger. Katarina arrived at the house looking white and surprised.

The girl shivered.

'Are you cold?'

'Yes.'

'Here, take this,' he said absently.

Heath pulled a red shawl out of the glove compartment and handed it to her.

'Who's?'

'It was your mother's,' he added.

Katarina didn't bother to ask what it was doing in his car.

The girl's fingers had practically frozen during the twenty minute drive that took them from icy country lane to mansion gates. Katarina had heard about this place only once during her childhood, had seen it from the heath but had never dared venture into its overrun grounds. They entered the hidden garden through the foggy, wrought iron gates that led to Hareton Hall.

After a few minutes of walking across slippery grounds, strange, open-mouthed statues greeted Katarina at the grand entrance.

Her father had never allowed her to speak of the Spencers and especially not her uncle. But recently, she and her cousin Linus had connected via the web and Katarina was more than a little intrigued about the mysterious 'other half' of her family. The outside lights came on as they walked over the gravel towards the front door which was overrun with creepers.

Her father would be concerned about her late night visit to The Hall but Katarina was fed up with being wrapped in egg shells. She pulled the red shawl round her shoulders and stuffed her curls into her woollen cap, dragging it over her ears.

'Quick,' Heath said, rubbing his hands. 'It's frozen out here. Be careful of the ice.'

She took his arm, surprised at how hard and strong the muscles felt. She hadn't expected her workaholic uncle to be so welcoming.

'I give the staff leave on weekends, can't stand them about me and I usually work on Saturdays anyway,' he added, amiably enough. _Rude, arrogant, reclusive_ were all words she had heard in connection with this man. So far, he was nothing like his press.

Apart from a few cobwebs at the side of the stone entrance, which was covered with climbing plants, the interior of the hall was miraculous; turning a simple switch lit up grand chandeliers that led to a parlour, kitchen and vast hall and dining room. There was a series of ancestral portraits lining the walls to the right of the entrance - one of her mother. The interiors were lush but tasteful.

Heath wandered into the kitchen after they'd walked the length of the entrance.

Katarina was agog. She was used to being the richest girl at her all-girls' school but she had never seen such opulence. Her hand brushed the entrance hall side table and wall

of mirrors as they walked towards the drawing room.

'Ah, I see Greta's left a note. Greta was my housekeeper and she used to look after your mother and me…when we were little. She was not much older than we were. Seems funny now,' he mused as he found the key to the cabinet.

'Greta locks it, she gets worried when I drink alone,' Heath said, 'but I know where she hides the key.'

Katarina looked around her.

'Another drink?' Heath asked.

'Yes,' Katarina said.

'Something stronger?'

'Yes, please.'

'Brandy?'

'Okay.'

'Brandy is best on cold winter nights,' Heath chuckled to himself, pouring her less than he normally would, though she had officially reached legal drinking age. Katarina wondered if he was over the limit but his hand was steady as he carried the decanter into the Edwardian drawing room. Drinking brandy in the evenings was as normal to Heath as breathing.

'Was this once…a ballroom?' Katarina asked as she unwound her red scarf with the graceful moves of a ballet dancer.

'It was not,' Heath said, sitting easily on the black leather sofa.

'It is definitely big enough.'

'Funny. I remember thinking that when I arrived here the first time. Actually, the ballroom was upstairs. For some reason, the children's rooms were built connecting to it, so we often heard dancing - "partying" as you'd put it - loud noises, fighting. He noticed the look of surprise on Kate's face.

'Where's Linus?'

'Not home yet, apparently. Probably at a dance club.'

'Oh. I met him once, online.'

'How modern,' Heath mused.

Heath checked his text as the wind started to howl and announce its presence in a storm. The rain trickled down slowly at first, like water on tin, then the storm gushed through the

open window, spraying its fury over the low table and threatening a vase of flowers. Katarina moved to hold it upright.

Heath's phone beeped, relaying a text.

'That's Linus. He won't be home for an hour or so; nice of him to let me know. To be honest Katarina, I thought you might be a…good influence on my son.'

Heath pulled the window down as far as it would go, shutting out most of the storm.

'Why? Is he out of control?' Katarina joked.

Heath turned to look at the girl squarely.

'He is spoiled, Katarina, and weak. I fear I may have indulged him.'

Katarina glanced at the photographs on the wall. She wasn't sure how to respond to his directness.

'But you have another…son?'

'Oh, that's Harrison's wife's brother, Hinton. He lives here and works in the evenings. You may have already met him. He studies at the same college,' Heath said, starting to feel the familiar tightness in his arms. He'd need to feed and take his medication soon.

Katarina had told Heath during the car trip all about where she studied.

'I've heard about him,' she said, reluctant to tell Heath about his nephew's reputation. The girl looked around and sighed as the storm and the darkness swamping the confines of The Hall seemed to embrace her. Heath was taken aback at the image she made in the half-light, so similar to the photographs he had of Kate, tucked away in his wardrobe. The need to take his vitamins and drink Magenta overcame Heath. He quickly excused himself and began to walk out of the room.

'I'll get some photographs,' he offered. 'Should keep you busy until Linus returns at some unearthly hour. I'm not even sure which club he's gone to but once he's out he doesn't come home until late. I could drive you back to The Grange, but to be honest, we should wait for the weather to clear.'

'Of course,' Katarina said. There was obviously no choice since storm warning, news flashes were being broadcast. Heath turned to leave the room and Katarina flicked the switch on the flat screen and turned on some music instead. Something old and classical, Katarina thought. The low lighting flashed once and then the power went completely: no television, no CD, no sound except the thrashing of water on trees.

'I'll get the candles,' Heath offered. 'I know where Greta keeps them,' he added.

'Okay.'

Kate froze. The house was way creepier in the dark.

Moments later, Heath came back with lamps for each of them.

'Old-fashioned, I know, but they work.'

It occurred to Heath that from outside the window any stranger could see him entertaining a young female. Of course, they'd have to make it past the vast security on the neighbouring property, which he also owned, to find this place. Still, the thought suddenly bothered him as he pulled the curtains. His intentions for this girl had nothing to do with forming any kind of connection with her. She was merely the final piece in the jigsaw puzzle that formed his bizarre life, if that's what it was called.

He was determined not to let her realize she was trapped. The girl must want to stay, he thought, at least for now. He wondered how to get her to agree, as he stopped in the kitchen and took his medication mixed with protein powder. Heath was able to drink a variety of blood but tonight he felt like 0-negative. He glanced out the window as he guzzled, noting the heaviness of the rain. The dark, vicious winters fuelled his fantasies… and his nightmares. When he finished drinking, he thought he should find the photographs first - distract the girl.

He'd heard the neighbours at the pub gossiping about Hareton Hall but their stories had never bothered him until now.

He ventured into Kate's old room in the half-light and opened the door to her wardrobe which was a converted spare room. Her things had barely been touched since they'd been packed away when Kate had left The Hall forever. He was tall and could easily reach the top shelf but her many shoes had been piled together. There was a loud crash as some folders tumbled down in front of him.

_Blast that boy_, he thought. Of course Hinton had been in here rummaging through their old school texts and files. People often wondered why he'd adopted Hinton from Harrison as a six year old, but he never liked to comment publicly on family matters. He didn't believe in filling the gossip columns with his motives and every minute detail of his family

life though people in cyberspace now did. It was bad enough that the many girlfriends he'd had over the years since his wife left him had talked about him publicly. Heath felt social networking sometimes degenerated into an excuse for public one-upmanship and he wanted no part of that. But then, he had more than most to hide.

He wondered what the boy could possibly have been looking for in the room that now housed a filing cabinet in the corner. He recalled a recent conversation with Greta as he rummaged…

'Let's be honest Heath, I'm fed up with your haphazard lifestyle. I promised to stay until the children were raised and they're grown up now…almost. They don't need me anymore and nor do you. Everything's under control.'

'Don't leave us, Greta.'

'That's not the point Heath. The place itself is just _filled _with ghosts. I don't mean literally, I mean from the past…and you should think about selling it…for your own good. I have my own children to raise, Heath. Move on. Get married again. Start anew. Put away the old ways, Heath. Revive yourself. That's my advice, for all the good it will do…'

Heath had looked at her as if she were mad. He'd even had the house redecorated just to please her and had converted the drawing room into a room of Edwardian taste bathed in blue light, a blue-seeming flame in the fireplace, candles and candelabras and lush crystal chandeliers. The lounge room had been updated from its 80's look to the modern era with sunken leather furniture and various reference journals and magazines lining the covered shelves. Heath had always refused to take down the portraits.

'I tell you Heath, living in the past is no good for anyone,' Greta had told him.

'You don't know the half,' he'd said dismissively as he walked down the stairs and out the door to the office building he worked in (and owned) deep in the City of London.

On this night, he turned up the paraffin lamp to find what he was seeking and reached to grasp it.

Meanwhile, Katarina, who felt a little like a trapped bird waiting out the storm which had begun in earnest, wandered over to the fire and started going through a pile of old CDs (there were even some old vinyl albums!) which lay around the edges of the brick. Her cousins mostly liked the same music although both of them seemed to be more into "house" than she was.

She was glad her father, a kind man, had taught her to appreciate all musical styles over the years even though he'd insisted on piano lessons to fill The Grange with the music that had left it, along with her mother. Katarina noticed the grand piano gathering dust in the corner and imagined her mother, Kate, once playing it.

Katarina remembered her mother's face from photographs. She had been so young when she had Katarina, only eighteen. Katarina glanced into the glass above the fire. The girl realised, as she rubbed the life back into her cold cheeks, that her mother had been the same age as she was now; the same age as her uncle would remember her.

Weary from the long day and warmed with brandy, Katarina slumped on the couch. It was a good thing she didn't need to go back to college tomorrow, or anywhere, really. The rain and hail began to pelt down forming sleet outside the window. She texted her father, so he wouldn't worry. There was no need to fill him in on the details. He'd assume she was with friends. Besides, it would be foolhardy to travel on the country roads just now, though the haunted interiors of this opulent palace made her feel like a trapped bird.

**Chapter Eight**

_**Winter Nights**_

Finally, Heath shone the torch on the dusty old shoe box he was looking for.

'This should satisfy her imagination,' he thought.

Inside lay a pile of photographs, taken pre-digitally, tied in a bundle with a red ribbon. The photographs were of the Spencers, as children, at the local primary school and playing together on Hampstead Heath. There were more taken at boarding school in Scotland. They had not been looked at or moved for almost twenty years and the top of the box was thick with dust, but other than that, the photographs were in remarkably good condition.

Heath rubbed his arms. He could anticipate need now, the need for his medication, the need for blood. Heath could feel the surge of want and desire in his venom. The tightness in his calves and wrists would move through his body as his strength seemed to decrease physically. He'd neglected his pint of blood this evening, which he always drank before eight pm, but then he'd never had visitors to distract him. He looked at the photograph in his hand.

'Your beautiful face,' Heath whispered, fingers tracing the paper outline of her jaw as he held the edge of the torch in his mouth He dropped it when he heard the dog bark and the girl cry out. He rushed down the stairs to the drawing room.

Rain streamed in through the broken window creating a fast-growing puddle of water in the drawing room. He walked over to block the window with a chest of drawers as the girl shrank into the corner of the wall…

'I… I went to close the shutter and someone tried to grab my hand.'

Heath paused.

'You must have imagined it Katarina. It was the wind and the rain. The winds are strong; it's so isolated out here. A noise sounds louder than it really is. Shadows seem like people. Now, calm yourself. Here, take a seat and have a sip of your drink. I'll make some tea.

Katarina sat on the couch, shocked and shaken.

'How did you do that? Move the chest so easily? Pull down the window as if it was as light as a feather?'

Heath finished his drink and paused.

'It's not as heavy as it looks'

The answer seemed to satisfy Katarina who continued, 'The fingers, they were so cold…her skin was…white. She wore a nightgown.'

'Honestly Katarina, you sound like you've read too many horror stories…'

'Suddenly, I feel like I'm living one.'

'Only suddenly?' Heath said sarcastically. 'You wouldn't be the first to say that. I'm thinking of selling it…. But nevertheless, it's not safe to leave now.'

'It's not safe to stay…'

'Nonsense…mind plays tricks in here. I'll take you home the minute the storm finishes or morning comes…whichever arrives first.'

Katarina sighed as Heath smiled and helped her to her feet. Her father had clearly exaggerated. No stranger could have been more welcoming.

Heath smiled again as he settled a mohair rug around the girl. Katarina accidentally touched his hand and was shocked. His palm was as cold as ice. He withdrew his hand quickly and rubbed his fingers together.

'Thank you,' Katarina said, pretending not to notice. Little did she know what an effort it was to play nice. Heath had managed to take a few more sips of blood in his bedroom before going to find the photos and was feeling somewhat revived. He had no attraction to this girl's blood. In any case, it was strange. He hadn't even thought of drinking her, especially as he was hungry. He'd trained himself to withhold when it came to people he liked or met as friends. Perhaps this came from being "mixed-race". Heath's specialist had once considered him that rarest of things; a vampire-human hybrid. Now, he felt more vampire than hybrid.

'I aim to please,' he said cheerily, aware how bland he sounded. He handed her the photograph album as he spoke. 'We open the grounds to visitors in the summer now that…my wife has left and the children have grown up. I usually move to the Southern Hemisphere and enjoy the winter in New Zealand (Heath wanted to add, _'It's cold there when it's hot here and there's an endless supply of animal protein and blood and no one asks any questions_.') Instead, he used the open house story as an excuse, adding, 'I was…opposed to it at first, but the visitors bring in extra revenue and I don't have to put up with them… and, it all goes to a good cause - my charity for abandoned children…'

Her uncle sat opposite her now, sipping his brandy as he discussed the plight of orphans.

How could a man who was involved in charitable causes be as bad as her father had said?

The phone rang. Heath picked up the receiver. He spoke curtly as Katarina poured over the photographs on her lap.

'That was Linus,' Heath added, after he hung up. 'He's been caught up in the West End and Hinton is working late at the studio. He goes to evening classes sometimes. I just got a text. They don't speak to me usually. Apparently, I spent too much of my energy on work when they were growing up and now they don't want to know me.' Heath rationalized this partial lie as easier than the truth.

Katarina looked intently at the photographs of two children dressed up formally for a family function in the grounds of Hareton Hall. They looked like twins apart from the fact that one was a little taller than the other.

'That's us, when I first came to live with the Spencers,' Heath said.

'You both look…so sweet,' Katarina said. 'I was wondering…why didn't my father like you?'

Heath paused, wondering how much to tell the girl.

'He didn't like me because he thought he was better than me…it's as simple as that.'

The girl shook her head incredulously. 'Oh…but my father would never…'

'It…was different then. Everything was different.'

Heath smiled. Katarina noticed his perfect, white teeth.

'It's late, we can continue our discussion at a later date,' Heath added, rising from his chair.

It bothered him slightly to have her in the house all night, not because he cared what anyone would think but… well, for reasons which had already become obvious. The house itself…was unreliable, strange… creepy. His desires were manageable. He was determined she would not discover his secret but the girl had made an accurate assessment of hidden forces that swirled through the hall like ghosts.

'When was this taken?' Katarina asked as Heath stood up.

The girl held the photograph of two children, the boy with an untucked shirt, messy hair and wayward striped tie, and the girl, standing up straight with knee high white socks and braids. The boater hat sat atop her perfectly styled hair.

Heath looked at the photo dismissively.

'First day of boarding school, Greta took us to the train. We each had trunks with our names engraved on them in gold.' Heath smiled at the memory.

'Really…I didn't know you and mother went to school together.'

'We didn't…not really. There was a boys' school and a girls' school. They shared the same playing fields.'

'Did you meet up in secret then?'

He suddenly tired of Katarina's constant questions and wanted someone else to distract her. He didn't expect her to be so smart, or to like her, even a little. Perhaps she had more of her mother in her than her father.

'Sometimes,' he said warily, 'Kate…your mother…came to my football games.'

The storm howled outside as if to prove a point. Heath walked heavily over to the bay windows and checked the locks from the inside to prevent the incessant rattle which shook the room in the dark. Usually, it drizzled here but tonight was different. Tonight reminded him of Scotland and the stormy night his band played in the school hall for the first time.

'I like this photograph,' Katarina said. 'I've never seen it before. Where did she get the outfit?'

Kate stood on the stairs of a ballroom in a beautiful, low-cut, pink satin drop-waisted dress wearing high heels, tassels on the knee length hem and a sequinned choker around her head. 'It was the school formal, I suppose they call it a "prom" on those American TV shows,' he said dismissively. 'The theme of the occasion was 1920s,' he warmed to the memory, 'The band I was in tried playing jazz, dressed as gangsters. We thought we were so cool. Your mother, Kate, was determined to be the centre of attention that night…' Heath looked at the photograph and smiled.

As if reading his thoughts, Katarina said, 'Wearing that dress, I bet she succeeded.'

**Chapter Nine**

_**Sixteen**_

Kate had gone to buy the dress on one of their rare Saturday mornings in Edinburgh. They were sixteen and Kate was determined to drag Heath into town with her to pick up the dress. He pretended not to care because he hated shopping but secretly enjoyed having Kate as his exclusive companion during their journey. He'd grown older and stronger in their years at boarding school. He was managing his condition, and no one except Kate had ever guessed.

The boy enjoyed any excuse for freedom outside the school grounds. He didn't see Kate at all during school hours. Although he'd hated being sent away at first, he found the regimented atmosphere of sports and lessons suited him more than he ever imagined it would. Being able to climb higher, jump faster, bat harder and kick longer in games gave him an edge and made him popular with other boys, but it wasn't them he wanted to impress most.

Heath pretended it was an imposition as the note was delivered to his class. He and Kate arranged to meet, catch the bus and have lunch in an old-fashioned tea room (Heath would have preferred lunch at the pub, obviously, but this compromise meant he'd just have to pick the meat off the sandwiches). Besides, to impress Kate, he wanted to go along with her wishes.

Edinburgh on Saturday morning in April was a jostling, architecturally spectacular city. The light was low, like London but the open wind made it pleasantly colder. Heath wished he could have driven the car he'd been saving to buy from the "business" he ran after lights out. All of the boys from his boarding house were involved in a betting game related to the school fixtures. Heath would have been suspended, or worse, if it was discovered they were using real money to bet. The game had been running for more than a year and Heath, as bookmaker, was making a handsome profit. With his winnings, Heath and Kate could have taken a car if he'd been allowed to drive but the school (stupid school that it was in relation to rules) forbade it.

Heath would have ignored the rule, like most of the other rules at the school, if it hadn't been so difficult to break without being noticed. He was careful not to draw too much attention to himself. Being taller, faster, smarter and better looking (according to Kate) than other boys, made this difficult. Because boys placed less value on looks and more on accomplishment, they didn't dislike him as much as they would have if they'd all been girls and one outshone the others. Really, his mates looked up to him in a way he was sure they wouldn't, if they knew the truth. He kept his medication hidden. He kept his drinking supplies (type O in secluded plastic packages from the blood bank) in a locked, private fridge that (as house captain) he had exclusive access to. The school nurse was told as little as possible. She thought Heath had a rare condition and relayed instructions from his doctor without telling anyone or asking too many questions.

Edinburgh wasn't home to him but he had grown fond of the city. He thought one day he and Kate might live there or maybe New York or London if she had a preference. Anywhere dark and cold but populated would be good. They both liked entertainment and crowds they could blend in to. He glanced at Kate sitting beside him on the bus. Neither of them had their head phones on, preferring each other's silences to music. He looked at her profile, her perfect features and warm smile, her fragile collarbones leading to her neck.

He tried to stop the thought. Yes, her smile was beautiful, though he'd never told Kate this but it was her body and soul he wanted to possess, just as she possessed his, in theory. The warmth of her skin, her blood - intangible and unknown - was a perfect mystery to him. He tried to avoid staring longingly at the tiny rippled vein above her shirt collar. Heath inched his hand across without looking at her. When she laced her warm fingers around his gloved ones, as they approached the main cobbled street, the venom in his veins pulsed.

Kate always asked after him in a whisper. _How was he feeling? Not too weak or strong? Not tired or sleepy? Weird? _(Always weird!) _Did he need her to go with him to see a specialist? No_.

Heath insisted he was as normal as possible. He wanted no fuss. They were discovering new treatments constantly and he was perfectly fine; he'd be okay…just like her. Only, he knew he was nothing like her. Not really - apart from their obvious physical resemblance which, creepily, made others assume a biological connection that didn't exist.

Kate smiled. She loved the fact that, lately, her attention seemed to make Heath nervous. It was strange and unexpected and thrilling; he'd agreed to come with her to pick up her dress. They came into town only when they got a leave pass, and she knew Heath disliked shops. There was no way he'd do this for just anyone, least of all Annabelle Hunt. To say Kate wasn't really fond of Annabelle was an understatement. Kate did not place huge value on female friendship and Annabelle had a job ahead of her trying to befriend Kate. Kate often outshone other girls her age and had been brought up around boys. Besides, Kate was still getting over the fact that the Hunts had been sent to the same boarding school. In any case, Kate felt she had little in common with other teenage girls. Many had tried to befriend her, briefly, only for Kate to discover their real desire was to become close to Heath.

It had taken Kate ages to get used to seeing the Hunts every day at school. She suspected it was harder for Heath who understandably harboured a grudge against them. Kate knew if they ever found out who… or what Heath really was, they'd be shocked. They might even shun him. Kate didn't want Heath to have to go through that. She didn't want to give the other girls and boys a chance to reject him. He was hers, Kate thought possessively as she linked her arm through his.

One day he would be fierce and fully grown. By then, there might not be laws discriminating against vampires. One day, Heath might be able to be honest about who he really was. But until then, it would be easier to stay in the shadows. Kate often read marginalized news items with titles like, _Blood Stocks Low_, and stories about the "threats on the London tube," and the "new hybrid species of humans" with "unidentifiable blood types", rumoured to exist. No one had ever come out as a hybrid…or a vampire, for fear of being ostracised.

The pair rounded the corner from the main street to the bus stop.

'C'mon,' Heath said, pulling Kate's hand. 'Let's get off here and walk the rest of the way.'

'Okay,' Kate replied. She wondered if he ever noticed how adoring she was in his company. Kate certainly hoped not. They had never kissed. Heath was worried it might get out of hand and he'd fang her before he controlled himself. He was not yet fully grown and might be so out of control he couldn't resist and Kate could end up missing a chunk out of her neck or worse.

Kate was secretive about her feelings for him or as secretive as she could be. How could he not notice that she worshipped every step he took, to a degree that both excited and scared her? She was glad to be wearing the jeans and new jumper she'd ordered from a London catalogue. She was dressed fashionably but Heath barely looked. He was too busy hungrily glancing into the eyes of strangers.

Together, they reached the shops in double quick time. These days, Heath seemed to almost merge through crowds. He could look into her eyes, and she would know what he wanted before he'd even said it. They were becoming twin souls.

'This is good,' Heath said. 'The people traffic isn't too dense. We can get this over with and then have some lunch before they call out the search and rescue dogs for us.'

Heath was always hungry.

'I thought you got…permission to come,' Kate said.

'No…ah, not exactly,' Heath said. He'd handed in an unfinished assignment and had been asked to stay back on Saturday and complete it. Heath liked to bend the rules and had climbed out the window. Kate shrugged, knowing the teachers liked him too much for him to ever get into serious trouble. She was secretly thrilled he'd risked a further detention for her.

Together, they rounded the corner of a laneway and walked past a fish and chip shop that sold deep fried fish, chicken and… chocolate bars?

'I've always wanted to try one of those,' Kate said as she walked into the boutique next door.

'Your every wish must be granted. Wait there,' he said.

Kate loved it when Heath said things like that, flattered her and made a joke of her vanity. He ran into the shop and ordered two battered treats; he returned minutes later as Kate wrapped tightly in her long coat, hovered outside the shop. Heath held two wrapped packages. He gave Kate the first one; a battered chocolate bar with soft caramel oozing in the centre, whilst he chomped on the other - deep fried chicken. Kate's coat bag was draped carefully over her arm as they sat in the bus shelter and ate hungrily.

'Mmm… yummy,' Kate said.

'Like I said, your every wish is my command.'

'Nothing but the best for me, hey Heath…' Kate joked.

'I thought that was what you wanted…' the boy said, suddenly worried he had misread her.

'Of course, this is one of the highlights of my sixteen years…'

'Mine too…' Heath said, smiling. Heath had the nicest smile Kate had ever seen, the thickest brown hair and the kindest eyes. His teeth were perfect, (although she missed his little fangs, retracted so long she hadn't seen them in years). Kate looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring at his mouth.

Moments later, Kate screamed as a bus sped by and the water in the gutter splashed them. In seconds, water pools swirled around their feet and the edges of their jeans were soaked in muddy rain.

'Oh well,' Kate said, 'I suppose they can be dry cleaned…'

Heath looked at her, the warmth of his smile suddenly making even the cold weather feel less inclement. He moved closer. Kate could nearly feel his breath. The boy opened up his coat, snug and larger than hers and enveloped her in its dry warmth. Rain tumbled down from the sky. Heath's body temperature these days was not cold but he always seemed to need an extra jumper.

'This is Edinburgh for you,' Heath said. 'Quick…'

They moved from the bus stop, which was largely uncovered, to the shelter of the shop front. In the fading afternoon sun, Kate leaned in and kissed Heath, softly on the mouth. Heath was surprised and soon they were covering each other in sweet, warm kisses.

At first, Heath was reluctant. After Kate kissed him he leaned back hesitantly. Heath managed to kiss Kate again without wanting to drain the blood from her neck and felt only mild discomfort in his veins.

The discomfort soon turned to bliss. Being around her for so many years made control possible…just; he'd taken his medication while he waited for her. This "control" was a revelation to him. They kissed again. Heath suddenly pushed her away, feeling the tiny pang of his extending incisors.

'I'm…sorry,' Kate said.

'It's…it's not your fault. I'm just…'

'I know,' Kate whispered, turning his face to hers.

The boy shyly reached his gloved hands under her coat. Heath pulled Kate closer to him - so close she felt, for a moment, unable to breath. The depth of their affection scared her. She lowered her arms into him, stayed locked in his embrace and just as quickly pushed him away.

'I…I didn't expect us to be so…'

'What?' Heath said, unsurprised by the extraordinary feelings he felt. Alarmed she might be rejecting him, he suddenly felt his incisors extending again and turned his face away, ashamed.

'Look at me,' Kate said. He retracted his fangs fully in that moment before doing so, proving to himself that control was completely possible.

'I don't want us to have any secrets. I was going to say…good. Together we are so…'

'Bad?' he smiled. Heath leaned in towards her as they waited for the downpour to stop. Wrapped in each other's arms, they were glad to miss the first bus back to school.

**Chapter Ten**

_**Hinton**_

'It's late… ' Heath said, changing the subject as Katarina took another sip of tea.

It was past midnight and the storm hadn't subsided.

'Do you mind if I stay the night?'

Heath was mildly surprised but glad he hadn't had to make the suggestion.

'Of course not, I don't know when or even if the boys will be home, but there are six guest rooms and Greta should be in at eight in the morning. Take your pick. I'm just going to stay here by the fire, go through a few papers. I have a business meeting in the City tomorrow. Even though it's Saturday, some of the foreign markets don't sleep.'

'Mmm…' Katarina said. Normally she would have felt odd staying in a stranger's house. Before it was her uncle's it had, after all, been her mother's. Katarina was surprised Heath had become so traditional. He'd once dreamed of being a rock star according to a letter her mother had written (the only one that she had been allowed to read and keep).

Katarina gazed at her mother's portrait in the hallway. How was it possible to look so similar to a person you didn't know?

'Thank you. I just texted my father and he thinks I'm staying with my friend - the girl you met in the pub.'

'Blonde one, long hair?'

'Yes, that one,' Kate regularly excused Stacey's flirtatious behaviour.

Heath nodded, making himself seem more amiable than he was. He tried to imagine he hadn't dreamed of sinking his teeth into the blonde girl's neck and draining her until she shuddered.

'I was wondering if I could sleep in my mother's old room?'

Heath hesitated, but he knew refusal would put her off guard.

'Well…um, I don't think Greta has the bed made up.'

'Which one is it?'

'First right, top of the stairs, but…' He could feel his muscles tightening; he needed his medication and perhaps some protein from the larder…

'That's okay; I'll just take this…' Katarina gestured to the checked mohair blanket that had been wrapped around her. Before Heath could utter another word, she said good night and was bounding half way up the creaking staircase, two steps at a time, revealing her youth.

It would be a long night, Heath thought, as he finished his pint of Magenta and took some extra capsules. The storm water pelted down on the sill in the drawing room as the lights suddenly flashed. The dog jumped up and howled. His ears were alert to the unfamiliar sound of music playing from Kate's old bedroom.

'Settle,' Heath warned.

The dog nuzzled his head under his paws and softly growled instead. He sensed a person approaching.

Outside, Hinton, Heath's adopted son, walked alone towards the house. He was grown now, hunched over his plastic-wrapped package. It was his latest completed canvas, carefully covered. Hinton had lived at Hareton Hall since his sister, Frances, had arrived with him in tow eighteen years ago. Now he had no family but Heath and Linus. The boy wore a blue scarf, brown coat and ski hat pulled down over his ears. He'd been in central London finishing his Art History class and then he'd stayed on to assist the tutor during a photography lesson. Hinton was one of the best students at Art College and made extra cash tutoring. The class had been developing film (in a dark room during their lesson in pre-digital camera work) and some students had then decided to go into the West End for drinks. Before he knew, it was almost daybreak.

The boy hated going home. His uncle was legally his adopted father but Hinton always called him Heath. Before Hinton went off to class, Heath had been in a surlier mood than usual and was always on at him about "making something of his life" and going to work in the City at the family firm. Hinton couldn't believe he expected so much of him when he expected absolutely nothing of his own son. Linus, who was blonde like his mother, did little else except socialize and run dance parties in abandoned fields.

Heath and Hinton had countless arguments about Hinton's "lack of direction." Hinton knew Heath liked to keep his family close by and didn't want either of his sons to leave home before they had finished studying. He was a difficult and unsociable parent but he was the only parent Hinton had since his own had died shortly after his birth. Franny had raised him until her desire to flee The Hall after Harrison's death overcame her. Hinton was in school then and The Hall became his holiday home. Greta, who had children of her own to care for, only came in three days a week now.

Heath rarely trusted new people enough to actually employ them so when staff left, they were not replaced. Over the years only Greta remained. Hinton couldn't really believe how he'd been trapped into his adopted father's lair, especially since Heath had never actually been demonstrative towards him during his childhood. But then, he'd never shown much love to his own son, either. Slowly, Hareton Hall had become his home. And it was all because of _her,_ Hinton thought. As he neared the house, the first picture to greet him in the hallway would be Kate Spencer's.

Hinton was sceptical about love partly because of the rumours that connected her to his adopted father. Besides, Hinton was nineteen and had a reputation to uphold. He enjoyed "playing the field" as Heath used to say in the old days. Since Art College had more female students than males, the odds were definitely in his favour. Even so, Hinton couldn't wait to get out of Hampstead for good. As he walked up the drive, along the old stone road, shivering in the early hours of the morning, he considered the merits of leaving London. The borough was freezing and the cab from the station would only take him so far along the icy road now that the storm was subsiding. He often took the bus. There was nowhere to park in central London anyway and he hated asking Heath for money.

**Chapter Eleven**

_**Remember **_

Hinton was surprised that the lights were still on in the drawing room as he entered the house. The dog had slept by the fire until everyone else had gone to sleep. Then, he'd done as usual and wandered upstairs to lie at the foot of his master's bed.

The boy had removed his coat; he wore the latest sneakers and low rise jeans. Hinton wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. He hoped Greta had left something since. He was very hungry after hours of clubbing in Soho. He was often photographed there with various girlfriends, but lately, his shallow existence had begun to bother him. Perhaps he was more like his adopted father than he thought. The family photographs that filled the drawing room told barely half the story of its dysfunction.

Hinton shook his head at the pictures on the wall as he climbed the stairs. It was funny to him that Heath could give himself airs and graces but no one knew where he came from either. Heath could use the title bestowed upon him for "services to the economy" but that didn't make him a Lord, not in Hinton's eyes. He couldn't have cared less about titles but he thought it almost funny that he had to practically ask permission to live in his own house when his sister had more rights to it than Heath (who only owned the house because of a swindle…) but that was another story.

The boy was aware there were two sides to the family history. In the first version, Heath had "saved" him as a child from a vicious beating by his drunkard brother-in-law, Harrison. The other was contained in an apologetic note from Harrison years later. Truth lay somewhere in between. One thing Hinton knew for sure; Heath cheated Harrison out of his own home during a game of high-stakes poker.

There are always more sides to a story but this was the particular side that Hinton chose to believe. Before the bet, papers had been signed. Heath, the foundling child, had risen to become the rightful owner of Hareton Hall. Hinton grimaced in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth and splashed his face. His image was hazy with condensation. He rubbed the mirror with a towel and wiped his face dry. Hinton turned off the light and walked quietly to his room. Heath's light was on. As usual Hinton didn't bother to say goodnight. Instead, he flopped on his own bed fully clothed.

Heath wasn't so bad. He'd been more of a father than Harrison and treated him more like a biological son than the father he'd never met. Besides, unless he won the annual Art Prize at his college, he had nowhere else to go.

Hinton had flicked on the television news in his bedroom and was chugging orange juice and eating what was left of some roasted chicken, when he heard a piercing screech that made him walk into the hallway.

Doors flung open and Heath's dog bounded out of the main bedroom towards a room with blazing light under the door; a room that had never been used since his teenage aunt had inhabited it more than twenty years ago.

A dark-haired girl flung open the door and stood on the landing, looking pale and frightened in the half light. Hinton Spencer froze on the spot.

'Who are you?'

'I'm… I'm Katarina Hunt. You must be…'

'Hinton, your cousin by marriage, for all intents and purposes. I was adopted. Are you okay?'

'I don't know… I think I will be. Someone tried to get into my room.'

The boy, mesmerized by her white skin and red lips, stared at her longer than was necessary, then apologized, adding, 'sorry…it's just that you are identical to my…adopted Aunt…' He gestured to Kate's picture on the wall.

'May I?' Hinton said.

'Yes…come in, please.' Kate said with desperation in her voice. Hinton checked the cupboards and behind the curtains, even under the bed.

'There's nothing in here…'

A slight breeze wafted through the room, seemingly from nowhere.

'I…I met your Uncle, um Heath and I wanted to come back to see some old photos and the house my mother grew up in. Then the storm set in so I asked if I could stay the night and…I don't think Heath wanted me to stay and someone tried to get into my room."

Hinton looked around.

'The door was shut when I came up.'

Almost speechless, Katarina whispered, 'not through the door, through the window.'

Hinton wandered past the bed and towards the upstairs bay window. It was unlocked and unopened. He pulled it up. They were on the upper floor. Below, lay a stone pathway. The flower beds were a metre away from the walls and the trees even farther. It would not have been possible for anyone to climb up.

'There is no one there now,' Hinton said. 'Are you sure you didn't have too much to drink?'

'Are you serious? I know what I saw.'

Outside, the wind started to pelt down onto the trees. In the distance, an icy storm began to howl again.

'Tell you what,' Hinton said, smiling, 'Why don't you come into my room? I'll take the floor, of course, and you'll be safe until morning when I drive you home.'

Katarina looked at him hesitantly. This wasn't the cousin she was supposed to meet, though she'd heard about him often enough at Art College. Hinton was known as a real ladies' man, a guy who failed his A-levels and only got into college because of the brilliance of his drawings and a scholarship. Everyone knew his family were loaded. Hinton was a year ahead of her, so they'd seen each other in the halls but never spoken. He'd dated more than his share of girls at the college, and dumped them just as quickly.

Katarina reluctantly dragged her checked blanket off the bed and pulled on her jeans over her underwear as Hinton pretended to look away.

'C'mon, then,' Katarina said, as the storm raged outside.

Hinton couldn't believe his luck. He started walking towards his room when he realised the girl had taken a wrong turn.

'I'm going to sleep in the drawing room,' Katarina said. 'Perhaps, you could come with me?' She was still pretty scared after the earlier incident, though she'd never admit it and Hinton had all but convinced her she was dreaming.

"Mmm, give up my bed for a hard couch?" For a minute she thought he was going to refuse.

'Why not?' he said with his most affable smile. 'We can pretend we're on a camping holiday.' Although her likeness to her mother threw him momentarily, Hinton was beginning to like this new cousin.

Heath was able to sleep through practically anything but lately he'd been woken up at all hours. He'd drunk three glasses of brandy before bed and fallen into an almost trancelike state reading the stock reports and going through some important files in relation to an upcoming merger. He'd been out hunting squirrels and rabbits again. He'd swiftly scaled the outside wall so no one would notice him coming back or leaving. Disgusted, he wiped the blood from his mouth, rinsed and brushed his teeth before bed.

Though he dimly heard the sound of a woman's scream it faded just as quickly and the only change in his vast, kingly bedroom was the blurry sight of his dog's ears standing up. He crawled under his duvet. Heath slept a few hours every night. After his maturity, at twenty-one, he hadn't slept at all. But recently, he'd started falling into a deep slumber in the early hours of the morning. He reached over for his newly prescribed elixir. There were many underground markets now and different products for both vampires and hybrids that hadn't been available to Heath in his youth. After he chugged some Magenta (a new elixir), he fell back into a deep sleep. The dog whimpered and snuggled at his feet like she always did when he woke.

In the dark he heard a woman's voice, clear as glass.

"Heath… Heath…" the girl whispered to him. Then, her hand reached over and shook him awake.

Dark hair fanned across his ear, irritating him and interrupting his dream, which was more than a dream. Heath opened his eyes and saw the perfect brown eyes of another and heard Kate's pleading voice as he reached out to touch her cheek.

'Heath,' the girl said. 'Forgive me for what I did. I've been away for eighteen years. Please come back to me, I have missed you. It's so cold out here…come back to me…come back…Let me in. I've been in the in-between for so long…'

**Chapter Twelve **

_**The Cottage**_

Heath disappeared most evenings at school. Kate knew he went hunting. He'd be back for band rehearsals, he had promised her. He'd been counselled by his doctor. Kate was sure he practised being 'safe', which meant only drinking wild animals and never more than he needed to survive. Magenta, drunk in the interim, ensured he was not tempted by humans; nor would he be, unless his vampiricism developed fully. This was a roll of the dice, according to his specialist. They wouldn't know if he was a full bloodsucker until he reached eighteen. In the meantime, his diet subsisted only of protein, citrus, Magenta and plasma delivered via special order from London once a week. Blood oranges were still his favourites.

Tomorrow night, the inter-school Battle of the Bands competition was to be held as part of the Sixth Form dance. Kate and a few others, including Annabelle Hunt, were factored into the front row as audience members or "fake fans", as Kate joked. Annabelle had made such an effort to be friends with Kate that the girls were now talking and Annabelle had hesitantly been accepted into Kate's circle of popular girls.

Those girls were sitting in the front row. The band hoped they wouldn't be sitting there long. Tonight, they wanted everyone in the room up dancing. Heath would be lying if he said he didn't like the fact that a lot of girls paid him attention. He was tall with dark hair and had a "mysterious" look about him. He'd heard Annabelle giggling and whispering about him to his friends once. He still disliked the Hunts but he enjoyed female attention in all its forms and it didn't pay to display open warfare towards Annabelle's older brother, Edmund. He'd tried that in his first year at boarding school and all his privileges had been withdrawn. He hadn't seen Kate in over a week.

There was only one girl whose opinion truly mattered to him and she sat front row centre as the band played her favourite cover. Afterwards, everyone rushed off to supper but Heath and Kate had plans.

As Heath packed away his guitar, the drummer, who fancied Kate, smiled at her.

'Did you like your song, Kate? We played it especially for you…'

Heath rolled his eyes, jealously.

'I more than enjoyed it,' Kate replied but she was looking straight at Heath when she spoke.

Heath had a good singing voice. He and his band were the coolest – some said most dangerous boys at school – by far. Although Kate was proud of Heath's ability to assimilate, it had begun to annoy her to see other girls paying Heath so much attention and the last thing she wanted to do was let him know how great he was. That would create too much of an ego problem.

'I mean, it was better than okay,' she covered.

'That was your song,' Heath said.

Kate couldn't help but smile. Heath knew what she liked so well.

Heath pretended not to care and smiled at Annabelle Hunt as she gathered her things, much to Kate's annoyance. Heath made sure Kate noticed how much Annabelle Hunt flirted with him. When he became bored with Annabelle's conversation mid-sentence, Heath turned from her and walked over to demand Kate's undivided attention. Kate paused and glanced into Heath's eyes. It was obvious to strangers they had a connection that went beyond words.

When they were alone, Kate tugged at Heath's shirt and gave him the lamb sandwich she'd made in the kitchen especially for him. They were having a roast today at the girl's school and Kate knew it was Heath's favourite. He thanked her, pulled off the lamb, wolfed it down then left the bread. Heath was always starving these days. It was as if none of the food he ate satisfied him.

'C'mon, I also bought us tea…' Kate had her flask and some more lamb and chicken wrapped in a satchel. Heath grimaced, but realised weak tea kept him hydrated. Kate was always trying to look after him, even though they'd be seeing each other less now that they were both studying for half-term finals.

'You really did rock, Heath,' she whispered, looking up at him when she said it. He tried not to beam so hard. He grew happy and less prideful under her gaze but he held back from saying what he wanted to say. Heath wanted to tell Kate Spencer how much he loved her but he couldn't. If he told her, he felt sure that she would torture him, use it against him and tease him more than she usually did. It was in her nature to be both a chameleon and contrite. He wouldn't say the words until he was sure she felt the same.

They agreed to meet at the cottage to study for their exams. They enjoyed meeting up, just to read and talk like they used to when they lived in London.

The cottage was a secret meeting place that had been used for decades by the students from both schools. Built into a stone wall that marked the outside gate of the shared sporting grounds, it could only be reached by running (or walking very quickly) far out of sight across the never ending playing fields and through a kind of dugout that led to an even more lush pasture.

The dwelling had been uninhabited for at least a decade. The hut had been built in the curve. High on the hill, it lay abandoned when no one had bothered to demolish it. Most of the students knew of its existence and it was the "go to" place for midnight feasts… and lover's meetings.

By the time Kate arrived, windswept and dishevelled, Heath had caught her up.

The interior of the cottage had recently been renovated by teenagers. There was evidence of junk food and discarded games, posters tagged on walls, various blankets and duvets rolled into a cupboard, and a well-used fireplace. It was the perfect spot for a winter picnic.

'Reminds me a little bit of Hampstead,' Kate said, looking out the window.

'Scotland reminds me of nothing in the South. It's…lonelier…wilder,' he said, rubbing his mouth when Kate couldn't see. He suddenly needed his incisors filed but he wasn't going to admit it. Only Heath could feel the sharp tips of the teeth inside his mouth, reminding him of his true nature. Kate placed the food on the red checked table cloth over the low coffee table as Heath lit the fire. The boy hungrily demolished the roast chicken from Kate's satchel as the girl looked on in amusement. She spread out the board game on the floor. The pair of them began playing Scrabble in their usual competitive way until Kate, bored with the game, messed up her side with the pieces tumbling across the floor amidst a cloud of laughter.

'This is such a boring game,' she said. 'I've never understood why I can't make up words… '

She leaned over towards him. Heath felt unexpectedly nervous, but tried to act cool.

'What sort of words?'

'Oh, you know. Words they don't teach us at school…' Kate smiled wickedly then changed the subject.

'I am so bored with classes but I can't wait to see your band perform tomorrow night. I miss Hampstead. I miss the glass house where we used to go… to hunt for food…and flowers…'

Kate loved flowers. She'd even given Heath some edible ones once, when he was little, which he'd duly tried to eat. Kate rolled onto her back and stared up at the low beamed roof. Heath looked bashful. The fire flickered, creating artistic shadows of the pair on the inside of the cottage.

'I think we should play a different game…' Kate said.

Heath looked at Kate incredulously, as he turned the page of his History text. He hadn't expected this.

Kate reached over and stroked his hair. He could still feel the touch of her fingers, moments later. Overwhelmed, he took her hand in his and used all of his willpower to stop himself pulling her to him and fanging her. He didn't want to mess things up with Kate before they were ready. Heath ached for her loveliness; she was part of him more than anything or anyone ever could be or would be. When he thought of his biological family, he was dismissive of them. He didn't remember their faces. Besides, they had abandoned him when they discovered he was a bloodsucking freak; just as his friends would probably turn on him, if they knew the truth.

He dropped his pen and changed the subject. 'What…what are your plans for next year?'

Kate laughed… 'Okay, we'll play your way. Let's see, if I wasn't going to be a famous painter, do you know what I'd be?'

'I don't,' Heath replied as she plaited her hair into a braid.

'Well, I love my horse so…I'd be a vet…and save the animals…'

'You'd have to study hard for that,' Heath said sarcastically, glancing back at the words on his page.

'What, don't you think I'm capable?'

Heath knew Kate could do anything she set her mind to, starting with gaining access to the school kitchen when he couldn't, but it wouldn't pay to compliment her right now. She was far more confident than he was.

'It's not that,' he hedged. 'I'm just not sure if you have the dedication,' he replied, turning his head so she couldn't see his smile.

'Oh, you…'

He reached over and caught her hand. Kate looked up at Heath with a devotion she quickly hid with words.

'Let me get closer to the fire. It's freezing in here…' Kate said.

Heath moved closer to her, closer to the flames which were weak, but turned and crackled forming a strong light.

Heath made the first move. He put his hand on Kate's hair and she held his gaze.

'Run away with me Kate.'

Kate laughed.

'When? Where to?'

'When we've finished school, after we turn eighteen. We could go to Prague or Paris or Spain.'

'What with?'

'We'll get jobs…'

'I can't just abandon everything…my family…'

'Apart from your father, they've abandoned us…

Kate considered this for a moment.

'I know. Harrison is…not to be trusted and mother lets him sign everything. He controls all her assets after she and father separated. She even signed half of the house into his name. Mother never did like responsibility.' Kate reached out to Heath and he leant over and kissed her wrist, softly, again.

Kate opened her eyes wide, suddenly seeing the future.

'Yes, let's do it. Let's go to Spain. I'll study art and design, though I once thought Paris might be the place for that. Never mind, I'm sure they have good design schools in Spain and you can…start a band… only we've no money, not a cent. It's just a fantasy, Heath. Ten minutes in another country without a roof over our heads and we'd be fighting all the time. And…'

'What?' He wanted her to say it but she wouldn't.

'…and liking each other less…'

'I could never like you less, Kate. There is no such possibility.'

'Why?'

'Because I love you.'

Kate liked it when he spoke like this, but it worried her. 'I know,' was all she said.

What she should have said, and what she later regretted not saying was that she also loved him. It was obvious. Her journals were testament to this. Each one covering a year in their lives together, written in schoolgirl writing, with train tickets and photographs taken on her polaroid when Heath was least expecting it, pasted into the pages. She kept the most recent one hidden under her bed. Her favourite photograph was one she took of Heath in his navy blue school blazer standing on the playing fields with a bemused look on his face, just as he realised she was the culprit – the school photo journalist.

Kate glanced longingly at Heath after he'd kissed her again. She looked into his perfect eyes and felt the hard cut of his arm muscles. This boy, soon to be a man, was everything to her. He was her whole life, the male version of herself. She knew to be wary, though - family neglect had taught her this; not to let him know her entire being was his to do with as he pleased. Kate sat up and glanced down at her shoe, resolving to change the subject.

Heath loved that about her - the two versions. In this version, Kate had fresh colour rising in her cheeks. He wanted to be closer to her, to touch the vein in her wrist, her neck, to kiss her lips, but he didn't dare move.

'I think you should take your studies more seriously, never mind about me. I could never love a man, who didn't know at least as much as me,' she joked as she packed up the chess pieces.

'Well, then, there are a great many men for you to love,' Heath replied with a raised eyebrow.

'Oh, you…' Kate threw one of the Scrabble pieces his way.

Heath laughed in return, loving that he could get to her so easily.

He had applied to various universities but he wasn't sure what he wanted. Beyond Kate's love, nothing. He'd gone through the motions, telling no one before now that he'd considered applying to Oxford. He'd organised teachers he knew would give him good references and because his marks were flawless, he had a reasonable chance of being accepted. He just had to pass the interviews. He'd studied every evening when he wasn't with Kate, and when he was, he studied late into the night. He wanted to achieve more than anyone he knew. More than anything, he wanted Kate to be proud of him.

They read some more and fell asleep beside the fire. When they woke the next morning, fully clothed, wrapped together under a pile of blankets, it was morning.

'C'mon,' Kate said, dusting off bread crumbs from her skirt, 'we don't want to miss chapel or they will notice and maybe stop me going to the gig tonight. Someone could report us…'

Heath rolled his eyes. 'You mean Hunt.'

'Really, he's not that bad. I think he wants to be your friend. Actually I think Annabelle is quite keen on you. You better be careful, Heath. Those secretive, silent girls are the worst with their little schoolgirl crushes…'

'Is that what you have on me?'

'Silly, I'm not the silent, secretive type,' Kate said.

It wasn't the answer Heath wanted to hear.

'Well, you never had to be.'

Heath turned with the coat and handed Kate her scarf.

'How can you joke like that Kate?'

'What? I'm just kidding.'

'How could you think there is anyone for me apart from you?'

'I…I think you like me too much. It will distract you from getting good marks in your finals.'

'Am I hearing things? Listen to yourself Kate. I don't "like" you too much. There is no "like" here.

Kate looked away, aware of the depth of her feelings for the handsome boy that stood opposite her. Over the past year, he'd grown a head taller than her. She had to look up in the morning half-light to meet his eyes. Again, she looked away.

'Look at me Kate.'

'I know most girls think you're hot.'

'Oh, so you're saying you don't?'

'Those girls don't know you, like I know you,' Kate said slowly. Before Kate was forced to answer, the door blew open as one of the younger students arrived, out of breath. 'Come quick,' he said, '… they're taking the register. They know someone broke into the kitchen last night and stole some chickens and the headmaster is going ballistic.'

Kate giggled while Heath grabbed their coats as they prepared to run. It would be wiser to attend roll call, or else it would be completely obvious they'd been out all night; and then Mr Spencer would be informed, or worse.

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**Linus**_

Katarina woke in the living room but she did not feel refreshed. The girl stepped quietly past her sleeping cousin and headed upstairs to retrieve her shoes. Much to her surprise, a shard of sunlight was shining through the floor length window of the room. The storm had subsided, leaving a wreck of mud and branches across the grounds of the estate. The girl pulled on her jumper and brushed her hair. The ancient brush looked like it had been passed down through many generations of the Spencer family. Katarina discovered some toothpaste in an old-fashioned bathroom. Upon scrutiny of her image in the mirror, she changed her mind and decided to take a shower. Katarina leaned in closely to the mirror, noticing the dark circles under her brown eyes, betraying her lack of sleep.

'Hello, how are you?'

The voice made her jump.

'You might have knocked.'

'Oh, no need to cover up. I've seen it all before,' Linus said breezily. 'I work in a theatre – stage management. You look as if you've seen a ghost.'

'Is that meant to be a joke?'

'Oh, you noticed it too…'

'What?'

'Last night, curtains moving, lights flickering, noises in the dark…' He made a strange horror movie noise and laughed.

'There was a woman…a stranger trying to get into my room…'

'Oh people have been saying stuff like that for years…'

'You're not going to tell me…'

'Oh, I'm here to tell you, it's all true. I'd never bring my friends home. Place is seriously haunted…'

Katarina didn't know if he was joking or not, nor did she know what to say in response to Linus' quick wit and even quicker turn of phrase. She decided she had no choice but to run with it. She smiled - at least it felt safer with another human being in the room.

'But enough of the gloom and doom, I'm interning in a theatre on the West End. I'll get you a ticket to come and see the latest show if you like. It's pretty good. I also organise dance parties on the weekends. Father does not approve, as you can imagine. What about you?'

'I like music and painting. I go to Art College and take photographs.'

'Cool.'

Linus held out his hand to Katarina, and she shook it.

A boy with what could only be described as wild hair and the appearance of an 80's punk, smiled back at her in the mirror. He messed his hair with his hands.

'So, do you like my new look?' Linus asked.

'It's…interesting but I never saw your old one.' Katarina replied.

'You must be Kat, Heath's niece, the one we've never met. I have the illustrious honour of being Heath's son. How is the old man?'

'Well, he's not very…old.'

'No, I know. But I'm guessing he's still pretty grumpy.' He pulled a face. 'I always try to get out of the house early. Father hates the fact that I go off to Brighton with my mates every weekend and can't stand the thought of working in his stuffy financial firm. But he was so young when he had me. Really, his idea of becoming a parent at this point in my life is a bit of a joke… Mind?' Linus took Kat's tube of toothpaste.

'I brought my own toothbrush,' Linus said reassuringly.

Katarina laughed.

'Oh, I'm going to write down my web page. We should stay in touch. Heath is sure to lose it at some point this morning, or he might already be out with the horses. In any case, you're going to want to run away from this house and never return…just like all the women in this family do.'

'Surely, they didn't all run away. Not all of them.'

'Yes, all of them,' the boy said regretfully.

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.'

Linus quickly changed the subject.

'Get dressed. We're meeting Hinton for breakfast; he likes to sketch in the cafe. Sometimes I think he's aiming to draw every nook and cranny in Hampstead. He and I don't really get on. So, it'll be quite funny to turn up at his favourite breakfast hangout with you in tow. He takes all his notes and paper to draw people there. He's obsessed with capturing their images. I'm sure I can't see any point in that…' Linus said breezily.

Linus talked on and it was hard not to like him, with his easy way and humorous take on the world.

Greta called upstairs, 'and what would you both like for breakfast?'

'Nothing darling,' Linus said theatrically. 'I'm taking my cousin out. You're welcome to join us,' he added.

'No Linus, I only popped in to drop off the groceries,' Greta said warily.

'Bring you back one of those lovely frosted buns from the French bakery for morning tea, then, eh?' Linus said, dragging Katarina down the stairs with him.

'Oh, have you said goodbye to your father?'

'Goodbye? We haven't said good morning. He's out with the horses. Tell him I'll see him tonight.'

Greta rolled her eyes.

'And with a bit of luck,' Linus said under his breath, 'he'll be asleep by nine pm.'

Katarina laughed.

'He was…quite the gentleman around me.'

'Oh, that's just because you don't know him, yet.'

'I get the feeling our families never wanted us to meet,' Katarina said as they walked down the sunny driveway, slippery from last night's hail storm.

'Here, take these.'

Linus handed Katarina a pair of gumboots. They both carried their shoes in their hands.

'The calm after the storm. C'mon, I know a shortcut,' Linus said enthusiastically.

'Near my house?'

'Something like that,' the boy said as they walked through the sunken garden, across the heath, towards The Grange and past the private, hidden glass conservatory that was tucked behind the Summer House.

'My father used to come here… with your mother, when they were children.'

'I know,' Katarina said. 'I'm reading her journal. I found it under the bed last night.'

Linus looked shocked. 'Oh, that must be another one,' he said, reaching for the diary.

'Not until I've read this one,' Katarina replied. 'I'm only on page eighteen…but sometimes I think this is the place she was happiest.'

Her cousin shrugged. 'Just up ahead, past the conservatory on our left, past the fancy house on the corner, is our café.'

Linus took Katarina's arm and she suddenly felt adopted by her cousin, like a new best friend.

Linus pulled a face as they removed their muddy boots at the door of the café and replaced them with their own shoes. 'There he is, sitting all sullen in the corner table. And in about ten seconds, Hinton will… look up.' As if on cue, that's what happened. Linus and Katarina laughed. Hinton didn't smile. He scowled and hastily gathered his sketches.

Hinton was just as unwelcoming and monosyllabic when they sat at the table with him. He'd already eaten a plate of bacon which Katarina thought was really unhealthy. Katarina ordered tea and poached eggs with toast and Linus ordered muesli with strawberries and yoghurt. A jug of blood orange juice was placed on the table and Hinton guzzled two glasses. He then proceeded to wolf down a second breakfast of eggs (he left the toast on the side) as he sketched the interior of the café, practically ignoring Linus and Katarina, who couldn't get over the difference in his personality from the previous night.

As he looked up briefly from his sketches, Hinton barely nodded. Nevertheless, Katarina, was in her element, surrounded by new family. Her two cousins seemed to be far more interested in themselves and their plans that her, but Katarina didn't mind. Hinton had an exhibition to prepare and Linus started chatting about the play he was stage managing. When the sun shone through the window, Hinton shifted from the direct light and began to get restless as he shuffled his papers. Katarina was keen to get back to her mother's diary, but was wary of appearing (unlike her cousins) rude. Besides, it felt nice to be amongst what were for all intents and purposes, her family.

As they finished their breakfasts and she read the paper, Katarina noticed Hinton peering at the words on her page. She looked up and sounded out the word, incandescent. Hinton looked away.

'Do you wear glasses, Hinton?'

'No,' Hinton replied taking offence through a mouthful of bacon. He chugged down the rest of his orange juice then began gulping his coffee. His hunger seemed to have no end.

'Oh, don't mind him Katarina. Hinton always wolfs down his food, don't you Hinton?' Linus said with a mocking smile.

Hinton raised an eyebrow, apparently used to his cousin's humour. Meanwhile it was obvious Hinton had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or couch as was the case the previous night. Katarina tried to make small talk but Hinton stopped drawing, folded his sketches and announced quietly that he had to go to college to work on his portfolio.

Katarina wanted to say, 'I'll come with you,' because she had planned to do the same, but she felt she didn't really know him well enough (except by reputation). From the way he was behaving it appeared he would not want her to accompany him. Hinton got up so quickly, he even left the scarf he was wearing, (her scarf, strangely enough), by her seat. He didn't want to give her an excuse to return to Hareton Hall.

After he left, Linus stirred his coffee as he spoke. "Oh, never mind him, Katarina. He's always more sociable in the evenings. Take no notice. I'm glad we met. Besides, it's obvious he likes you. I would too if we weren't related…' Linus smiled dramatically.

'Well, I suppose I should also be going…'

"Nonsense, you're coming with me to Portobello Road to buy new outfits before I go to my rehearsal. Then we're off to Camden town tomorrow and tomorrow night, in honour of having found you again, we're going to cook a feast and have some friends over for dinner. I have it on good authority that father will be out.'

Linus opened up the newspaper and sure enough, inside the lift out, there was a picture of Heath, in a dinner suit standing with his most recent girlfriend. She was also a company director and the daughter of a media mogul. Heath was announcing a charity ball that would be sponsored by the family company, _Heath & Sons,_ that evening.

'Mmm… sons,' Linus mused, 'how optimistic. I think that means me… and Hinton, though I don't think we were quite what father was expecting.'

Linus leaned in close 'You know Hinton can barely read, don't you? That's probably why he left suddenly.'

Katarina looked surprised. 'What? I thought there might be something wrong with his eyesight…'

'Oh, he sees clear as day; he can practically see in the dark. It's just that father was… well, he raised him to ride and take care of the animals. He was home schooled by Greta when we realised everyone was just going to make fun of him at regular school. It was terrible. Keep this to yourself. Father hates it when I talk about the family publicly but there's always been a lot of tension between us,' Linus stated matter-of-factly. 'I mean, he's not exactly thrilled with my choice of…career but at least I'm literate.'

Linus went beyond the insinuation that Hinton was not. 'Oh, he's clever. It's just that he has dyslexia and never really had it diagnosed properly and now… he's too embarrassed to ask for lessons.'

'Well, I was good at English at school. Maybe I could help him. He seems so clever. It's hard to believe he can't read…' Katarina said.

'Maybe. Hinton's unsociable. I've tried and he won't talk to me. We just don't really like each other, I suppose. I mean, we're not blood relations but we were raised together. Sometimes it's just the way things are…'

Katarina resolved in some way to help her adopted cousin as she sipped her tea, constantly entertained by quips from Linus.

When the waiter came and Linus, ever the gentleman, reached for the bill, Katarina couldn't resist.

'By the way, last night, I saw something… well, someone. It was a person, I'm sure of it. A woman tried to get into the room as I slept. I didn't see her face clearly in the dark but…'

'Is that why you screamed?'

'Yes… '

'Perhaps it was a nightmare. Being too much in father's company will do that to a person.' Linus replied, always the joker.

'No… I mean… a woman… I didn't see her face. I saw her hand reach through the window. It was so real, I could almost touch her fingers…'

Linus shivered. He let the silence hang between them for a moment until he spoke…

'It's her again.'

'Who?'

'C'mon, we'll talk outside.'

Linus offered to pay the bill and they walked out towards the tube station on Hampstead High Street.

'I'm not sure it's really my place to say and I'm not exactly sure what you saw but…' Linus glanced over at his cousin with a serious expression on his face…

'Go on…'

'Well, Father should have warned you… but it looks like it's up to me, as usual. Hareton Hall is a freak show.'

Katarina just looked at her cousin; she didn't know what to say. Of course, she hadn't believed in haunted houses before. But then, she had never confronted the possibility of their existence until last night. She suspected some more answers might be locked inside the cover of the diary she now kept. They changed trains. The underground was semi-empty this morning. When the tube stopped at Notting Hill, they walked to Linus' car. He'd parked it outside the station when he couldn't drive home the previous night.

'Jump in, we'll go to the markets then I'll drop you home. Oh, I almost forgot, there's an old school yearbook with empty pages at the back that your mother wrote in extensively. I'd been putting my stuff in storage, preparing to move into a flat in Bayswater but I took this by mistake from the wardrobe. I was going to put it back but I think you might like it. It's in the back seat. I found it a while ago and kept it, so it wouldn't be amongst the things you already have. You could add it to your… investigation. I was never terribly interested, to be honest, so I didn't bother reading it. I just flicked through the photos. Oh, but I wouldn't tell father. He's very secretive about that part of his life, the part he spent with… your mother.'

He reached in and handed Katarina the package.

Katarina took the album possessively and opened a page that contained letters stuck into opened envelopes. They were undated and the post stamp was unclear. Kate's childish handwriting but sophisticated language described a pre-holiday dance where Heath's band was due to perform. _I'm so excited for The Battle of the Bands, _was a sentence that stood out. Her mother had even stuck a small piece of the pink voile from her dress on the page as a keepsake. Katarina ran her fingers over the material. After the first ten pages, which were obviously written by her mother, there was another letter signed by Heath.

'Does your father know we have this?'

'I doubt it,' Linus said. 'All of this was so long ago. Most of it is undated but they must have been written over twenty years ago - way back in the nineties. Anyway, father has no idea what is in every nook and cranny of the house. Probably forgot he ever wrote this stuff. It's bizarre to read. Your mother must've stuck the letters in there. Hard to believe people actually _wrote_ letters back then…' Her cousin trailed off.

Katarina, finding them impossible to resist, stuffed the notes in her bag.

As Linus turned on the ignition, Katarina suddenly wished she was alone at The Grange to ponder her mother's words in detail.

**Chapter Fourteen **

_**Letters **_

_From Kate to Heath _

_Dearest Heath_

_It's the night after the dance and I've been told to pack and be ready to leave in an hour. No one will tell me why I'm wanted at The Hall. It may be something to do with Harrison. No one can find you. I think you must be out hunting. Father insists I am to return home on the next train. My bags are packed and I'm writing this to you in case you don't arrive in time to catch the train with me. I want you to know what I have never told you enough - how much I love you. I am leaving this under your door to read when you return. _

_I keep thinking of the events that led to me being separated from you and wanted to clear up the misunderstanding that occurred… I'm going back to the beginning…_

_Annabelle stopped by (such a swat) on her way from the school library, to show me her dress. Don't ask me how we've become friends but I suppose that's what you could call us, until tonight. Anyway, I'd been trying to get her to wear contacts for ages, and finally she'd agreed. It was like a new person greeted me at the door._

'_Kate, you look beautiful,' she said. I felt it was my turn to repay her compliment._

_We sat together at my dresser, me in my pink satin slip, bought especially to go with my dress for the occasion (I can't believe I'm writing this down!) to impress you later as we planned! Annabelle had draped my dressing gown over her clothes and was trying on my slippers. We painted our nails to match our dresses. Afterwards, I did Annabelle's makeup. I was quite thrilled to have made Belle my personal project as I felt her transformation on the surface would lead to a more profound transformation of her personality._

_I was so excited to see your band play in front of a real audience for the first time. I knew you'd rock the place out; you're so hot and talented, how could you be anything but amazing? And you were amazing, Heath. Don't ever let anyone make you feel different, just because you are. _

_When Annabelle emerged from my bathroom transformed in a cream and silver tasselled dress, I was surprised. Then I complimented my new friend._

'_Wow,' I said, 'you look completely amazing!'_

'_Do you think so? Do you think anyone will notice?'_

_By "anyone" I was pretty sure she meant you and I ignored the insinuation. _

'_Of course, you look beautiful Annabelle,' I said, and meant it._

_Annabelle smiled. She said she knew her pale, icy prettiness wouldn't last. 'I have a slim figure but I know I lack the… specialness that would make a boy like Heath, for example, sit up and take notice.'_

_I knew she wanted me to disagree, but I could never just let her think you were hers for the taking. Instead, I told her any guy would be lucky to have her. And I believed it, (unless that guy was you, of course). Annabelle was, or rather is, perfect girlfriend material, more perfect than me. She's perfectly boring, perfectly spoken and perfectly nice. How could you not like her Heath? Tell me what I saw never happened! Do you remember how much we hated the Hunts as children? How we used to laugh at them?_

_Of course, Edmund has always disliked you because you were braver than him – or so I thought. He called you "rough" but I know Annabelle secretly had a crush on you from the time we all met up at Hareton Hall during summer holidays and I put on a fashion show. Remember? _

_The fashion show began and ended with me showing off my new sports uniform. All of our school friends came and it was my idea to donate the door money to charity! Annabelle was invited to model also, but I went first. Edmund and Annabelle took their seats, open mouthed, on the floor. I'd set up the old ballroom like a theatre and forced you to grudgingly hold the curtains and shine the spotlight. You studied our neighbouring friends without hiding your irritation. You still hadn't forgiven their father for accusing you of harming their dog when we were small, and I don't blame you. You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but inside The Hall that day but this was a chance to "let bygones be bygones," as Greta once said._

'_May I take your coat, Annabelle?' I remember Greta asking. _

'_Yes, thank you very much,' the girl with milk skin answered. You must have found her vaguely pretty, I'm sure, even though you barely showed her any attention when she modelled and clapped loudly when I did. If both she and her brother hadn't irritated us so much with their bland, insipid privilege, perhaps we would all have been friends, earlier. But we always preferred being outside when we were children, didn't we? Playing on Hampstead Heath in the wind, remember?_

_Anyway, earlier tonight Annabelle continued to blabber on as we got ready. _

'_I honestly think Heath is the most handsome boy I've ever met.'_

_I couldn't disagree. I sometimes wonder if Annabelle's plan to befriend me had something to do with wanting to be near you. She stood up and hovered at the entrance to my room when she was nearly ready as if she wanted to share more unasked for information. _

_I turned around from my dressing table._

'_You look like… a princess,' she gasped. It was her turn to flatter me. Annabelle was still gawping at my darkly made up eyes, long gloves, low-cut dress and glitter eye shadow. 'Although I'm not sure the school…' _

'_Oh, I couldn't care less if I get a stupid demerit for wearing a revealing outfit…' I said. 'Don't look so shocked, Annabelle. Come over here and help me tease my hair. It is a 1960's theme after all!'_

'_You look…amazing,' she said as I applied my pale, pink lipstick. _

_It was eight in the evening and the Battle of the Bands Dance had been going for at least half an hour when we arrived. We stood at the top of the stairs surveying the scene we helped create, glitter ball and all. It was spectacular. I knew you were on last and your band was the only one I wanted to cheer for Heath. I thought the school hall, lit up with disco lights, looked amazing, didn't you? I took Annabelle's cream gloved hand in my pink gloved one as we casually walked down the staircase towards the cloak room and saw the whole school lit up with a banner that read Sixth Form Dance._

_When your band played, you guys were awesome. We clapped wildly so you would hear us but you looked straight past me and smiled at Annabelle! She smiled back! I happen to know you'd barely said more than two words to her in all your life, yet she was convinced you were in love with her after that. How could this be so, Heath? I am sorry for doubting you but as her obsession seemed to know no limits. I couldn't help but wonder if you had ever done anything at all to encourage her. _

_The lights were lowered as the heating and the energy in the room warmed and I noticed you pour something from a flask into your water bottle. I think, maybe, you had forgotten your Magenta. You looked hungry. _

_The band started playing again and you were amazing as I always knew you would be. Annabelle's face lit up and I would have started laughing if it wasn't so annoying. I suppose I just decided to fight fire with fire. _

_Soon I was surrounded by a group of boys and some of them started dancing and thrashing to the music and I was caught up in the throng of activity. Food was passed around, teachers stood back and hovered, talking amongst themselves, finally letting everyone dance without bothering to interrupt. _

_The set stopped and afterwards, I saw you attempt to move towards me as Annabelle headed in the opposite direction. You didn't push past her as I expected you to and I refused to show anyone I'd noticed. You looked embarrassed when she clutched your arm and told you how great you were but perhaps you had matured too much to be openly rude as you once might have been. I could barely hear your voices above the dance music but the conversation went something like this: _

'_Hi. The band was amazing,' Annabelle said. _

_You were flattered. I could tell by the careful way you smiled and said, 'Thanks Annabelle.' _

'_It reminds me of the music we played when Kate and I used to make up dances and modelling shows… remember when we lived next door to each other.'_

_How interesting, I thought, when Annabelle knew the dances and fashion shows were entirely directed by me._

'_Of course,' you said, 'how could I forget? You were always so creative,' I could not believe what I was hearing. I also couldn't believe any girl could be quite so…obvious or that you could flatter her so easily. You started packing your guitar in its case and you didn't even give me a second glance. _

_I admit I was occupied with a group of friends by this point but that was because I was so annoyed that you had all but ignored me. How could you, Heath? Finally, you glanced over at me but I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of realising that I'd noticed. I realise now, you were mad at me for not telling you I loved you in return in the cottage the day before. But did you have to pay me back by flirting with Annabelle? It worked. _

_In fact, I barely gave a second to look in your direction. The look on your face said it all. I admit, I was wondering if you were having second thoughts about us. It is true that you are from another world but that is not why I love you, I know that. I know that you would love me even if we'd been brought up together on the street. Games are for other people, Heath, not us. _

_You only have to be yourself with me and I love you completely, for that alone. You once told me you could do anything you wanted, be anyone you wanted and so could I. I am so much like you; I am you. You left too early from the dance, if you heard my reply to Edmund's question but not my true answer. Please come back to me. Save me from whatever fate has in store for me without you. If you are reading this, I am on the train alone and you did not return in time to come with me. I shall wait for you at Hareton Hall…almost as if, although separate, we are one. _

_I love you more than words can ever say._

_Yours forever,_

_Kate _

_The second letter was in Heath's handwriting, dated that night:_

_Dearest Kate_

_Love and loyalty forever, without one the other doesn't exist! How could you imagine otherwise? I have not stopped thinking about you since we parted tonight and I'm writing this now, to give to you in the morning since the house mistress said you could not see me tonight. I walked over to the girls' school to find you but the teachers wouldn't tell me where you had gone. Someone said you had been taken back to London and that because no one could locate me, I am to leave on the morning train. They won't tell me why either, just that I am wanted at home. _

_I feel the need to set things straight between us, since this is our first quarrel and I could not go to sleep angry – or go to sleep at all knowing you are on your way to Hareton Hall without me. I shall give this to you when I see you since it will be easier than spoken words. _

_I hope father is okay. You know I love him as if he were my own, and I have a strange feeling something is up from the way the school counsellor has been speaking to me with added empathy. No one will tell me anything. _

_I hope you at least decide to open this because I know you were angry with me last night. In light of what has happened, our quarrel seems pointless, so please, when you receive this, don't just throw it out the window. You know I never write letters, never, but I am making the exception for you, because you are special Kate and always will be, because I love you forever and you know I always will._

_I'm going to start at the beginning and I'm warning you, this letter is going to be more than a few pages long…_

_Okay, it's true that I was deeply embarrassed by Annabelle being "all over me" as you put it. In my defence, it was past eight and I hadn't been able to get to my supplies and I felt strangely weakened, my desire for blood stronger than ever. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but it is the truth. I won't go on about it but I was feeling less than my best which may have added to the perception that I was ignoring you. Remember Kate, it is hard to be the one saying "I love you," and not hearing those words in return. _

_As for the Band Battle, I think we were attracting a few fans (this bit is supposed to make you laugh!) but I admit Annabelle was very obvious tonight. Even our drummer noticed her behaviour. She credited you with her makeover! Perhaps you should have given her a make-under - just kidding. Yes, I smiled back at her as I glanced around the room, waiting for YOU who seemed to be ignoring me! We had agreed to meet outside after the set had finished, to continue the party…elsewhere. But the scout from London was here and the band wanted me to put in an appearance. After he left, Mr Jones was on the war path trying to round up the boys who spiked the punch …guess who? Annabelle was a decoy, someone to hide behind. I am ashamed to say that is why I went outside with her and this is what happened next…_

_Annabelle sipped her drink and tried to make conversation, thrilling lines such as:_

'_Do you have plans, Heath, for when school ends?'_

_I replied, 'yes,' wondering how long before it would be safe to go inside._

'_I don't… not really. Father wants me to apply for university. I thought I might like to go to Art College in London instead.'_

_I nodded, still waiting for you, feigning interest in her vapid conversation. I glanced through the glass doors and saw you and the moronic Edmund Hunt, dancing. Great choice if you wanted to make me jealous Kate, it worked._

_Annabelle looked up and said, 'My brother seems to have taken a shine to…your sister.'_

_I gulped my drink as one of the band made a secretive gesture in his direction indicating more alcohol would be forthcoming. _

'_She's… not my sister,' I said quickly (because you aren't!)_

'_No… I'm sorry, of course not, but you were raised together…' Annabelle added, more annoyingly than ever. _

'_Only until we came here…almost six years ago now,' I replied, setting the record straight. _

_Annabelle then changed the subject._

'_I thought I'd hate it here but sometimes I prefer the school to home. I like having friends of my own.'_

_(I'm not sure what you said to her that afternoon, Kate, but she was under the impression you were her new best friend!)_

_I admit, it's true, this next part makes me seem inconsiderate but I was bored by her conversation and looked around the room. I became even more annoyed by your flirty behaviour with rich boy Edmund. Annabelle was all…wobbly by then. I think she'd been drinking too much punch even though it was never designed for her! She kept putting her hand on my shoulder to steady herself and at one point I returned the gesture to hold her up!_

_I looked across the room and there you were, beautiful in your pink dress, glaring at me. You turned your head (to listen to Edmund's scintillating conversation, no doubt). _

_Annabelle said, 'Oh look, Kate's dress fans out in waves across the floor, in waves at her feet like the ocean…'_

_And at that moment, that's exactly where I wanted to be with you. As far away from that school and our families and all the people who ever knew us, because I only want you, Kate, forever. _

_Then, the music reached a fever pitch and Annabelle was jumping up and down and you were in the middle of the group and I was watching you and then you…fell down._

'_Oh,' Annabelle said, suddenly still, 'I hope Kate's okay.'_

_I moved towards you but Edmund Hunt got there first. _

_Annabelle looked at me all gaga by then. It's true that I glanced at her, but more like she was a consolation prize! This was just as you turned heads paying Edmund your undivided attention! (One of my teammates once walked in on the pair of them – brother and sister – trying to teach each other to dance in the student common room!) Honestly, Kate, we should never let either of them get between us. They are not worth it! (Jealous? Yes, at least I admit it!) I turned away as Edmund was helping you up. _

'_Do you want to go outside?' Annabelle asked me, unexpectedly. _

_What was I supposed to say? I suppose I could have declined and stormed off like a girl but I wanted to make you pay. I'm sorry, I know that love is patient and kind; I know that is what we are taught but you and I are different. Words are not enough. I just want to be with you…impatiently, all the time. And sometimes I want to suck the vein in your wrist but I hold back because I'm trying to be better than that for you Kate, I'm trying not to have to be what I was born to be. You make me try to be a better man. Tonight I was less than my best, I know…_

_The balcony was divided into sections for groups to talk and socialize. _

_I made sure rich boy saw me as you told Edmund you were okay while he helped you outside. I wanted to make you jealous so I put my arm around Annabelle then released her moments later. _

'_Wait here,' I told Annabelle, 'I'm going to get you some water. I'll be back in a moment.' That's when I heard you. Rich boy spoke first._

'_Are you sure you're okay?'_

'_Ah, I think it might be some kind of… minor sprain,' you said. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to… ?'_

'_No, I like the fresh air.'_

_I could hear your words clearly Kate as I went to get Annabelle's drink. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to your room? Or would you like me to get…your friend, the one you're always hanging out with,' Edmund said jealously I might add. _

'_That is not necessary, I do some things by myself you know… and we are not always together.' I could hear those words Kate! You spoke them!_

'_Well, certainly, people don't see you together but I've heard…' he went on._

'_Perhaps you listen to too much student gossip…' you sounded mortified that people might guess we were together!_

'_No…not at all,' Edmund said, 'I just thought you were with…'_

_I was standing outside the balcony tent by then, hidden from view, but once I heard the topic of conversation I couldn't resist pausing. Trust is fragile Kate! You need to explain the rest to me because I never stop loving you no matter what you do…you added these words: _

'_There is nothing to think… I'm my own person. I'm not with…anyone. I don't have a boyfriend…'_

_I admit I freaked out standing there in the shadows like a stranger to your life. Hadn't we just spent the morning together? Hadn't we been closer to each other than anyone else in this life? I wanted to teach you a lesson for being disloyal, so I stormed off through the crowd._

_By now you must know, Annabelle means nothing to me, nothing. YOU ARE MY LIFE KATE SPENCER._

_Later_

_Then I woke up this morning to hear your father had died suddenly. I am on the morning train to London, drinking my supply. Honestly, I feel completely lost and only want to see your face again. Our petty argument seems just that. He was the only father I ever knew, too, Kate. I never met a kinder more sincere man in my life. I'm so sorry, Kate. _

_I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER. _

_I will be at Hareton Hall as soon as possible _

_Hxxxxxxxxxxxx. (and here the page was smothered in at least a dozen kisses and hugs and what looked like the smudge of tears…) _

I read over the childish letters in the dark. It seemed plausible that Kate and Heath were separated as part of a plan Harrison was forming.

Soon after, Kate was sent to Finishing School in Switzerland, where she stayed for three months until her eighteenth birthday. Both sets of school fees were cancelled and Heath was thrown out of the house, onto the street, his inheritance "absorbed" in the family trust and expenditure – justified by Harrison's appointment as the executor of the family estate. Neither of the younger Spencers appears to have completed secondary school in Scotland. A final letter from Kate (written in Switzerland) filled me in on some of the missing details.

_Dear Heath _

_By now you will know where I am and why and I wait patiently to join you. _

_How typical of Harrison to have tricked the school into separating us, and how alone and terrible I feel without you now. I wait for you and please know everything that happened at the dance is ancient history; it all means nothing in light of recent events. I still cannot believe father is gone. _

_Greta is taking this with her and has promised to give it only to you. Harrison, as you know, confined me to my room before I was packed off to Switzerland. He locked the door and barred the window after he dragged me from your path and would not let me leave this room. He says my place is with my family and not with "a freak". But you are my family Heath, and if that makes us freaks together, so be it. We will meet as planned and Harrison will never separate us again. _

_You won't believe what he has done! His new girlfriend, Frances (we call her Franny and so far she is a good natured sort of person, trying to bring me food and drink when Harrison is not about) is soon to be his wife! The little boy (a mere toddler) is her brother. His name is Hinton. They allowed him into my room to give me company before I was packed off to Finishing School. How kind of them. He too is a good natured little boy, with a face like a cherub. He likes to play with his toys and offers them to me to "make me better". I hate to imagine how Harrison's influence could change him since he is such a sweet child. I have tried to warn Frances but she is so "in love" she refuses to listen, and so far, Harrison has only presented his nicer side. He insists I am in my room for my own good and I barely have the energy to resist any more. With you gone, I have nowhere to turn. I have enclosed half the money we saved together in my piggy bank as children. I'd hidden it and you will need it more than me. Please don't send it back! _

_This will be shorter than the last letter. I just want to clear up what happened at the stupid Battle of the Bands and we can talk when I finally see you. Greta has promised to send you the details and I know you will contact her; I just know it. _

_Our school days seem pretty aimless in light of what has happened. Father died in my arms just before you arrived home. It was horrible, Heath. I miss him so much. I think he was our only ally. _

_Back to our stupid misunderstanding; I know my thoughtless behaviour hurt you more than any beating or withdrawal of privileges we ever received from Harrison, just as yours did me; so not worth it. I love you, too, more than anything or anyone else. You should know, before we make plans, that this is what happened after you left the ball room that night. _

_I told Edmund that I couldn't ever go out with him. He asked me if I was "attached" to anyone (which I found old fashioned and funny although I hardly imagine myself laughing ever again right now.)_

'_I can't go out with you, Edmund,' I said._

'_But, you just told me you are not attached to anyone,' he replied._

_**That's because I'm… more than attached**__. Those were my exact words, but you didn't stay in the room long enough to hear them. _

_I added, 'It is true that you don't see Heath and I together… in public or at school much but… we are more__** than attached**__. We are together in secret. We plan to move to London next year but of course my older brother would never approve so we just keep it to ourselves. It is true we are young but we are like, __**the same person. **__I could never imagine being without Heath.' And blah blah blah I went on, embarrassed to be relaying those words now, but they are TRUE. _

'_I see,' Edmund replied. Pale and dorky though he is; I think he meant us both well. 'I knew you were close… Anyway, I'm going up to Cambridge next year….' And after I had assured him there was no hope we would ever be more than friends, Edmund looked away, hurt. So please don't hate him for liking me because I think he is actually a good person. He seemed to understand and asked if we could remain friends. I didn't know what else to say so I said "yes", but truly, it all meant nothing. I tried to get up but the pain in my ankle made me hesitate. I looked for you but you were NOWHERE. That night I dreamt that we were parted and I begged you to come back to me. _

_Tell me this isn't true! _

_COME BACK TO ME NOW HEATH. I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER AND EVER._

_Love Kate (sealed with a thousand kisses)_

**Chapter Fifteen**

_**Shadows **_

And here I sat, the daughter of such a woman. I was quite surprised, I admit, at the evident depth of affection between her and Heath and quite annoyed at how meanly Heath had spoken of my loyal, kind and loving father. It was hard to get over the disloyalty in my mother's letters, but I tried to justify my reading of them in the name of "research".

Greta walked into the kitchen light and she relayed to me the story of Kate and Heath's parting. As we sipped tea and I waited for my cousin Hinton to emerge so we could go and work at the studio like we planned.

This is what Greta told me:

'When Heath arrived home he was ignored by Harrison who had brought his new girlfriend with him. Heath was just counting down the days until he and Kate could go back to school. Harrison had other plans. He'd withdrawn the fees for both children for their final semester of school. They had no say in the matter.

Heath couldn't have cared less about boarding without Kate close by and Kate had never been academic. When we arrived back at The Hall, Heath discovered Kate in a heap, on the couch, crying over her father's old photographs. When I went in to take them some tea, they were huddled together so close; I thought no one would ever tear them apart. Heath was also distraught. Your grandfather had been the only adult (apart from me) to love him and take care of him.

When the news had arrived, the worst, Kate and Heath were left alone. Heath hugged Kate in the child's playroom while she wept and he unsuccessfully tried to hold back tears for the only man who had ever been a parent to him.

After, we all sat in the old playroom as the news from a television blared on in the background giving us all a good excuse not to talk. Repeat images of political unrest in other parts of the world were on replay in a documentary. It was an irony not lost on any of us, for it was obvious, our world within Hareton Hall was crumbling.

I agreed to stay on to try to protect the youngster Hinton and Harrison was seemingly civil to Kate throughout that week. He had more important plans to occupy his mind. We were stunned to discover he intended to install his new girlfriend Frances, as his wife, (they married at a registry office the following Saturday).

At first, Franny was warm towards Kate and barely civil to Heath, (taking her cue from Harrison). Once she'd married Harrison, she lost interest in everyone else in the house, including her younger brother, and took to going on long walks across the heath. Hareton Hall has that strange effect on people or maybe it was the revelation that her new husband wasn't all he seemed. Sometimes I'd hear him yelling at her in the night and would place my hands over young Hinton's ears. I thought it a blessing that Kate was to be sent away but it was mean of Harrison to cancel their fees for the final term.

Kate's older brother had made plans to conquer and divide the two younger "shareholders" as he thought of them. He'd never really been able to control Kate. Although there had been a vast inheritance left to both the younger Spencers, Harrison made sure that Heath's share was written off to various expenses. Heath and Kate were still minors, after all. The shares that remained were left to be invested in the family trust and managed by Harrison on behalf of the two teenagers.

Harrison insisted that Heath make his room in the basement and groom the horses every morning. Heath did so, happily in fact, preferring to be outside rather than anywhere near Harrison. I asked when Heath would be enrolled back in school but Harrison seemed to think that was nothing to be concerned about. I feared the worst; that he intended to throw Heath on the street the moment he turned eighteen the following week.

Both Heath and Kate were not unaware of the plot against them as they took the horses to be exercised on the heath that last cold, autumn day when Heath was still in my care. Kate was in a near dreamlike state with her grief having marked a serious return to study as nearly pointless. 'After all, how many artists need an academic education, Greta?' she asked me. Really, Kate was delusional.

Instinctively, Heath, who had never trusted Harrison, knew there would be changes at Hareton Hall and he suspected his plans for university would be delayed in some way without access to the necessary funds. He needed money to hire a lawyer and by the time he had that he knew the funds would be siphoned off. He just hung on, taking his medication as scheduled, accessing his secret supplies to normalize his blood, and all the time wanting to rip Harrison to shreds. He hung on for Kate, waiting for her to turn eighteen so they could run away and never be under the control of Harrison again. If they ran off too soon, Harrison would inform the authorities that he suspected Heath was a vampire. Though not illegal, it would officially be a mark against him for life. There was so much discrimination. For example, vampires had to get permission to hold certain jobs and human-vampire marriage was discouraged.

Meanwhile, Harrison had cancelled the cheques Heath had sent to apply for university and it was too late for him to enrol to finish the school term at the local comprehensive. A scholarship was out of the question until the following year. Heath turned eighteen in a matter of days and Harrison would no longer be his court appointed guardian. Kate and Heath tried not to think about the family tensions as they rode together that day.

Kate had started eating again, having lost her appetite for a week and I had wisely packed the picnic basket with a lunch of their favourite things. Kate had put in a bottle of apple cider for after and her favourite mohair red checked blanket. Harrison was busy planning his next party for his new wife and to impress future investors in the various businesses he had purchased. He'd also taken to drinking in the afternoons (not a good sign). Kate's older brother was only too happy not to be bothered with the younger members of the household as long as they were out of his sight.

Hampstead Heath was dotted with people on that autumnal Saturday; mother's pushing babies in prams, small children running and playing games with kites, picnicking groups. These appeared to be fully functioning families, Kate was thinking, unlike hers. The pergola offered beautiful views across Hampstead and there were artists sketching near The Hill Garden as Kate and Heath strolled. They walked with their horses for about thirty minutes to reach the hidden garden and Glass House. Near the fish pond at the far end of a small alcove, there was a lovers' bench with panoramic views of North London.

They placed a blanket on the ground after they'd found water for the animals. Kate placed the food in the centre, while they talked and enjoyed the spread of chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, tea and crusty French bread that lay before them. Well, Kate did. Heath only ate the chicken – all of it. It was to be their last carefree day. As if to recognize that fact the sun hid in shadows behind the clouds as they talked, finally spitting down in tiny drops of rain. They had to quickly pack up all their belongings and head for the hidden, glass arboretum. As children, escorted to a night fair, they had once seen the stars in the evening sky from the same spot.

'Do you forgive me for what I said, the night of the dance?' Kate asked. 'You should have stayed to hear the rest.'

'Of course, Kate, tell me again,' Heath said as he brushed her hair with his fingers.

'Well,' Kate said, sitting up. 'I added, after you left, that actually, you are rather…strange looking and maybe not quite my type…'

Heath laughed, looked irritated, then despondent but as he got up Kate pleaded with him, 'I'm joking. Look, I found our initials that we marked into the tree when we were children. Here they are, bigger than before, clear as if they were carved yesterday.'

Sure enough, the initials of the pair were hidden at the base of the tree in a place only they knew to look. The letters were a legacy of their youth.

'You see, I knew even then. There is no one else for me and it is true. In this world or any other, I have known we were meant for each other, forever.'

Kate placed her finger to his lips.

'We don't know what will happen, yet. We'll find out tomorrow.'

Tomorrow was Heath's eighteenth birthday. Kate's was three months later. After that, they planned to run away together and get married. They thought by making it all official, it would be difficult for Harrison to separate them. As the rain spat down upon the glass roof, Heath leant over the seat they shared and kissed Kate, pulling her closer.

'Kate Spencer, will you marry me?'

'Yes,' she said, confidently, after they kissed.

'I don't have the ring with me. It's being made…so this is the informal proposal part…' They'd been whispering about getting married for weeks. Once they were of age, they could sever all ties with Harrison and make their own decisions. Kate had already spoken to the vicar who had known her since childhood.

Heath and Kate had been planning to elope for weeks but recent family events had hastened the proceedings. Kate put her arms around him and they hugged. Together, they fell onto the ground, laughing. The girl rolled on top of him; she was very strong and athletic and had him in a gridlock, on his back as he tried to shake her off, all the time trying to kiss her beautiful neck.

Later that night, Kate wrote in her diary that her wedding to Heath would be a triumph of love and hope over reality.

'I need to hear you say it, Heath. What I'm about to do - run away with you - means my family will disown me and we can't ever behave like we did at the dance. There can never be…misunderstandings that we can't fix.'

'How can you doubt me for a second, Kate? You are my family now and I am yours. I have never loved nor will I love anyone the way I love you. You are everything to me. You are my world…and the only reason I'm here. I would have bolted a million miles away from Harrison by now if it didn't mean I'd miss you so much…' Suddenly the blood in Heath's veins surged. His mouth felt dry. He recognized the taste of venom in his mouth.

'Of course, I'm worried. Dr Vincent has told me that it's unlikely I will revert but I may evolve. On my birthday, the day I reach 'full maturity' as he put it, we don't know what will happen.'

'Whatever happens,' Kate said, 'I promise to be there.'

'Kate, I could start off mild…and then if I transition, I may become… uncontrollable.'

'I love you, Heath.'

'I love you too, Kate.'

'That's all I need to know.'

Heath covered Kate in kisses as she laughed and brushed the ground off their clothes.

'I'm glad we're making it official,' Heath said.

Kate smiled.

'We only have to wait until three months after your birthday, it's all arranged.' Kate said.

Heath hesitated, 'Remember, neither of us knows what…my condition will mean…' Just now, he'd nearly lost control and kissed her a little too close, too deep.

'I accept you, no matter what. But,' she joked, 'if you think we're too young…'

Heath's face dropped. 'You mean you're not sure?'

'Yes, of course I'm sure. I just want to try to smooth things over with Harrison. It will be easier on us.'

'Listen to me Kate, there is no "smoothing things over" with Harrison. He means to make our lives as difficult as possible. Harrison cannot be trusted. He will not help us and he will not help you if you try to make it up with him. You remember how he used to treat us as children? The hours where he would lock me in the basement and put you in a cupboard before father came home and discovered him? Don't you remember his callous behaviour, the cruel beatings?'

'Yes, of course I do. He was always jealous of how much father doted on us. He was jealous of how much you and I loved each other. He called our desires…unnatural. I often wondered what he meant since he was never told about your…condition.'

'I assumed he meant because we were raised together, but that hardly applies now.'

'Harrison is practically my only family… apart from you. I always thought once he got over his teenage phase… you know he really went off the rails at boarding school, going to wild parties, indulging in bad behaviour. He brought all of that home with him. I just thought he might change.'

'It's his nature, Kate. Some people don't change.'

'It would be easier… if he did.'

'You mean, it would be easier for us… financially.'

'Well, yes. I am used to having nice things and a comfortable house…'

'Those things aren't important…'

'I know but…'

'You're not listening to me, Kate. I will give you all of those things… and more…just not yet.'

'We're so young, Heath.'

'Do you doubt me Kate?'

'No, no I could never… I love you Heath. I would run away to the moon with you, but just give me these few days to try to smooth things over. We'll leave the moment I turn eighteen, either way. I promise.'

Heath looked down at his shoes as Kate stood up and shook the blanket. She reached over and kissed him softly then ruffled his hair like she used to when they were children. He took her wrist and kissed it as if he would never release her from his touch.

'I am yours, forever,' Kate whispered. 'Sometimes it scares me how much I love you. It is as if I have left my own self and you and I are complete, only when we are together.'

They merged under the fading clouds as the shadows of two lovers became one in the dark.

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**Escape – Present Day**_

'Breakfast!' Greta called to the inhabitant upstairs. Heath was hurriedly dressing and came bounding down the stairs looking like a much younger man with his riding boots in hand, ready to go out.

'Not going to the office this morning?' Greta asked as she handed Heath his coffee which he hurriedly gulped down.

'I'm going riding, if the stables are still standing.'

'Well, the storm stopped about a week ago, but it's been raining ever since so I'm not sure it's the best weather for riding. Mud everywhere.'

'It'll be fine,' Heath assured her. 'Oh, I see we have a visitor.'

'Yes…your, er… niece, Katarina. She seems to have become quite fond of her cousins.'

Heath looked at Greta blankly. 'Where are they?'

'They've left already. Katarina and Linus went out to find props and attend a dress rehearsal for the play. What are you getting yourself into Heath?'

'Nothing I can't get out of. She has a right to know her cousins. They have a right to know her.'

Greta raised an eyebrow. 'This isn't more…vengeance, is it Heath? Because, you know, you already fought that war.'

'Did I Greta? I'm not so sure.' Heath, in a rare show of affection (he was in a surprisingly good mood this morning), leant over and pecked Greta on the cheek.

'Don't worry so much Greta. It's time I had some more young people about me. The place seems a lot sunnier this morning.'

'Oh, you and your "young people", Greta smiled. 'You don't look a day over twenty-six. I wish you could give me the secret to your eternal youth.'

'You don't know the half,' It was a strange comment, Greta thought, since Heath had shared his secret with her long ago.

The wind had flattened the heather outside. A slight trick of sunlight shone across the park turning the other side of the field gold.

Greta shrugged. 'Trying to stop Heath getting involved in something he wanted had been almost pointless, from the time he was a little boy.' She wrote in her journal. _'I knew I could do nothing to persuade him against his plan…' _

_**Twenty Years Ago**_

Kate crept into Hareton Hall when it was way past dinner the night Heath had proposed to her. There was lightness in her step as she moved upstairs to pack her things. In the dark, she heard breathing. At first she thought it was just Frances, who had fallen asleep soundly on the couch but it was also her older brother, Harrison. He flicked the switch on above the couch and all of the chandeliers shone at once, creating a halo above Kate's head. Her brother stared at her menacingly from the corner of the drawing room.

Meanwhile, Heath was delayed. He'd taken the horses to the stables to wash them down. Kate dodged Harrison and wandered over to pat Hinton's head and carry him to his room. He was curled up asleep in a lounge chair with his puppy and she hesitated to wake him. Hinton was always content to play with his animals. Today it was a new pet, but as often he picked up a lost kitten outside in the garden and took it inside to feed. There were always small creatures that found their way into Hareton Hall and Hinton's menagerie.

Hinton stirred awake just as Franny, snuggled into Harrison's shoulder, opened her eyes. Kate realised her sister-in-law must still be delusional about Harrison's true nature.

Harrison had, these past few days, mostly ignored Heath and tried to curry favour with Kate. Greta wrote in her diary that she wondered what new scheme he was planning.

'Kate,' he said out of the blue. 'Welcome home. You've returned.' He nudged Frances. 'Franny wondered if you'd like to go on a shopping trip with her…to Paris.'

Kate tried to ignore Harrison's bribe.

'Dearest Kate, I want you and Frances to be friends. Paris is close to Switzerland where Franny and I will be skiing. The trip is on me.' Harrison had decided it would help to have Kate on side, less hassle when he needed her to sign legal documents.

'When?'

'Next week.'

Kate nodded, although she and Heath would be far away by then.

Since Oxford, Harrison had worked at the family firm and in the weeks since her father had died, Harrison had taken over not just her finances, but control of the entire estate. Until she was eighteen, he had all the power.

'I've been thinking, Kate… and your mother agrees, it's time for you to go back to school. Father would have wanted you to complete your education.'

'And Heath?' Kate added.

'Oh, well, that's up to him.'

Harrison basically ignored the question. 'That boarding school in Scotland was always useless. It's where I went after all and I doubt things have improved and…I'm concerned that you spend too much time doing nothing meaningful there. You can finish your studies in Switzerland, visit your mother and also learn something useful at the same time.' Harrison looked at the kitchen disdainfully, 'like how to cook for your future husband.'

Frances smiled as Harrison sniggered.

Kate knew without asking that he did not factor Heath into his statement and their plan would have to go into full swing. Kate was angry, however, and she couldn't resist a retort.

'You went to university. Why shouldn't I have that opportunity?'

'Dear Kate, you will be rich. What do you need university for? You'll only marry and have children like all the women before you. Oh, and let me give you some advice, no man wants a wife who… talks back.'

Kate couldn't believe Harrison's disturbing psychological argument. It was the 1990s after all. Harrison had always been poison; she should never have even bothered trying to reason with him.

'And to be honest, Kate, father's contacts helped me achieve, not my marks at school. We don't have him to help us anymore,' Harrison said, just to rub it in.

Meanwhile, Greta stirred the pot in the kitchen, going over her written instructions to the cook regarding the lunch for the meeting of twelve Board members that Harrison had called. Heath was still in the stables grooming the horses. Greta raised an eyebrow.

Harrison continued. 'As you know, you are not yet eighteen, so you are still legally under my care. The truth is Kate, unless you want to be out on the street, you have no choice but to comply with my wishes or…'

'Or?'

'If you run off with Heath, I'll call the police and have you both brought back and the "charity case" arrested.'

'On what grounds?'

'Oh, I'll make something up. I'm far more creative than you realize. I have friends in high places. I'm sure we can accuse him of something…freakish or financial. Dipping into charitable funds? Being a vampire? That could keep him detained for a while.'

'You have no proof.'

'My suspicions are enough to make an awful lot of trouble for you both. Besides, you are under age…'

'By three months…'

Harrison's wife, who had been curled up in the corner of the couch, stretched and went upstairs. Before she left she kissed her husband's cheek, oblivious to the shouting or his true nature. After all, she had a family fortune to protect as well and the merging of both family companies could only be profitable for both families. As Frances left, she smiled at Kate with an almost pitying look. In that moment, Kate realised she was all but alone. If she ran to the stables where Heath was washing the horses and they went away somewhere with what little funds they had, they would be running forever if Harrison had his way.

Well, they'd just have to take that risk.

'I don't want to go to Switzerland, Harrison.'

'It's all arranged Kate. The driver will take you to the airport in about ten minutes. Don't worry, Franny will meet you in Paris the first weekend. Mmm…I sense your hesitation. I feel Heath has brought you quite low in the world. You are to leave this afternoon. Go upstairs and pack your things. Oh, and don't fret. The Hunts have a chalet for the holidays. You are invited to stay for the season. You should be happy. Six months will go in six weeks. Then, when you've finished school, if you want to throw your life away on the charity case, who am I to stop you?'

'No. Father would have wanted us to stay together.'

'Father isn't here now. I'm the head of this household and you have nothing unless I give it to you. Learn to obey me Kate, at least until you can earn your own living.' Harrison looked around him and added as an afterthought, 'although the women in this household have never been very good at doing that.'

'Maybe that's because the men in the family refuse to educate them.'

'Excuse me?' Harrison said.

'And Heath?'

'Heath is eighteen at midnight Kate. What he does is no business of ours. I have sent a messenger to encourage him to leave the property at once. I shall send him packing with plenty of cash, Kate. No need to worry.'

'That's a lie! You've always been jealous of him!' Kate yelled at her older brother from the top of the stairs.

'Even so,' Harrison said coolly. 'We'll see who has the last laugh now.'

'Where is he?'

'I have a police officer outside in the stables waiting to explain his rights to him. I expect he will choose to leave sooner rather than…later. He should have turned eighteen by the time he…chooses to go.'

'Another lie…he'd never leave without telling me…'

'Well, after he's been told about your decision, he's sure to want to leave. It's almost midnight after all. What were you both doing out in the park so late? Never mind, don't answer that.' Harrison said smugly.

'Heath knows it would not be my decision…that I didn't have a choice.'

'Mmm…' Harrison said with a smile. 'Well, we didn't really explain it to him like that.'

'I will not leave without seeing him.'

'Heath took his bags and left a few minutes ago. He'd be half way down the road by now.' Kate moved to the front door but Harrison warned her with his words. 'If he wants you, I'm sure he'll write. I must tell you Kate, this teenage passion you have for him seems to me to be very one-sided.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I have it on good authority…'

'Whose?'

'Edmund Hunt's since you're so interested.'

'What has he been telling you?'

'Well, he happened to mention to the son of a colleague of mine, that Heath and his sister had been quite close…'

'Another lie.'

'Is it?'

'You know Heath can't stand her.'

'Really? Well in my experience where there's smoke, there's fire. Go and pack your bags and stop behaving like a moron. A few months in Switzerland will do you the world of good. You can leave in the morning. And I'm warning you, Kate, you don't actually have a choice.'

Kate turned to go up the stairs, holding back tears.

'Haven't you forgotten something?'

'What?'

'Say thank you.'

Kate ignored him. She ran up the staircase. When she reached her bedroom Kate looked through the windows. The stables were quiet, the horses almost silently eating hay. Heath was nowhere to be seen. He must have been dragged off the property. Kate moved through the connecting door to the playroom, the place in which she once gained many hours of solace. The door slammed shut and Harrison locked it behind her.

Screaming was useless. Instead, she leaned against the door, slumped to the carpet and cried.

After a few minutes, Kate sighed. Harrison had not barred the windows. She was wrong to try to reason with her brother. This was all her fault for not running away sooner.

The girl picked herself up, went to her secret hiding place under the floorboards and found the documents she needed. Quickly, she threw her passport and some belongings into a bag and crawled out of the window like she used to when she was a child. She scraped her arm sliding down the scaffolding outside the building, flung her things into the car (she'd hidden a spare set of keys in the stables), and sped down the road towards the intersection. She was sure Heath could not have gone too far; then she remembered how fast he could run. The car shuddered and ground to a halt. The petrol gauge came up empty. Harrison must have emptied most of the tank, suspecting she'd try to escape. She would have to go by foot across the heath.

**Chapter Seventeen**

_**Midnight**_

The boy was walking quickly. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder full of supplies and the fruits of his gambling stuffed into the back pocket of his black jeans. Kate caught up with him and flung her arms around him.

He kissed and hugged her in return.

'I was going to wait for you, here,' he said. Kate looked closely at his face. The skin around his right eye was turning black…

'The police officer did that?'

'He wasn't a policeman. Just a thug Harrison hired,' Heath said bitterly.

'I'm so sorry. We should have left sooner,' Kate said, kissing him. His lips were still warm. 'It was foolish of me to try to find the good in Harrison where there is so little.' Kate added regretfully.

They hid behind the shelter of the bus shed as the weather turned and rain spat from the dark sky. Soon it would be midnight and they'd have to hide until morning. They were together now and immune to the outside world.

'This is all that matters,' Kate said as she hugged Heath for warmth.

'C'mon,' the boy said, releasing her. 'There won't be any buses until morning. We must find warmer shelter. Harrison is probably in an alcoholic stupor by now so there's no need for us to freeze to death.'

They trudged across the ground in the dark.

It was almost midnight when Heath began to feel a stirring in his arms. Exhausted, they rested at the base of an oak tree. The muscles in Heath's legs tightened and he was woken by the strong and sweet scent of human blood. Kate was bundled up in her coat next to him. She had scratched her arm, climbing down the side of Hareton Hall and Heath had a strong desire to lick the scratch. He stretched, resisting the almost irresistible. He knew he had to get to his vampire specialist in London, today if possible. He felt sure Kate would understand. The muscles in his body thumped and tightened. The need to drink blood overwhelmed him.

He quickly grabbed a packet of Magenta from his backpack. It was the new product his specialist had urged him to take a sample of during his last visit. This liquid sated him, momentarily, and he fell asleep again next to Kate as the snow began to fall on the glass roof above them.

They'd had no choice but to wait out the storm in the glass house, the place where he and Kate had once loved to visit, loved to be together, just seated side by side, barely bold enough to touch. Heath remembered best those moments of wonder and they only added to his love for her. Meanwhile, his desire to plunge his fangs into her neck was becoming more intense by the minute.

'Heath?' the girl asked sleepily.

'Kate?'

He nudged her awake. The blue coat she hid under was long and heavy, made for stronger weather and travel.

Kate opened her red eyes. He could see she had cried herself to sleep. 'We can never go back,' she whispered. 'He threatened to tell everyone about you or worse… have you framed for some fake financial crime… and he'd be capable of doing it, you know. He can forge your signature on documents…'

Heath looked away.

'I doubt he'd go through with it. He doesn't want to publicly besmirch the family name. Wipe away your tears, Kate. We have each other.'

Kate put her arms around him, but for the first time, he pushed her back.

'Don't Kate,'

'Why not?'

'I can feel a change tonight. I need to go to Harley Street…'

'We'll go together,' Kate said.

They huddled on the bench as Heath started to sweat. The girl spread her coat over the boy.

'You should leave me Kate; I don't know what is going to happen next. I want you to be safe. Safe, from me.'

'You can't be serious. You can't seriously… I could never love anyone as I have loved you… all my life you are the only one for me.'

'And you for me.'

'What has happened? What did Harrison say to you?'

Heath looked away.

'He told me I'm a…freak. That he didn't want my blood tainting this family…'

'That's not true! I love you. If you are a freak then I'm one too and I don't care what the world says…'

'Kate, listen to me. On the street, being pursued, we are nothing. Give me time. I shall get my antidotes, supplies, a job, make some money and…come for you.'

'No. Don't.'

Heath got up.

'No. I will come to you. I'm writing down this address, in London. It's a little café where I once visited with father in Covent Garden when I was small, before he brought me home that night to meet you. I went there once a few months ago with Greta. I kept the business card. Here, I've written all the details. Meet me there, eight am in three months on the twenty-eighth. The day you turn eighteen, you will be free of him. We will meet there and be together, forever.'

'Promise me.'

'I promise to find you again, if we are ever parted. But we are not going to be parted.'

The lovers embraced.

Heath's hearing had sharpened. 'I sense they are near…'

'No, I cannot let you go,' Kate said. 'I cannot live without you.'

'Kate!' He whispered, his desire to fang her was stronger than ever. Heath whispered softly as his knees fell to the ground 'I love you.'

A shout could be heard in the distance, then a whistle and a voice, 'She's in there!' Headlights shone in through the glass.

'Careful officer, he's got a gun,' Harrison said. 'He took it from the stables. He tried to kill me and he's abducted my sister…'

Momentarily, Heath slumped from the light which imitated the sun. Heath had his arm around what looked like Kate's neck and the police officer must have misconstrued what he saw.

'Don't shoot!' Kate yelled.

It was too late.

The shot ran out in the cold night air and went right through Heath's chest, barely missing his heart.

He shuddered and writhed in pain. It was a shot no human being could survive.

Kate was stunned. Motionless, she barely made a sound.

The police officer stared in horror at the lifeless young male. He was speechless as he bent over Heath's ashen body. The policeman checked the packet in the boy's lifeless fingers. His fist contained nothing but a water bottle inside a brown paper bag. No weapon existed on his body.

Kate screamed hysterically and placed her head upon her loved one's chest as she sobbed.

'Heath, Heath!'

Moments passed.

Harrison took Kate's arm and dragged her to her feet. She fought him all the way to the car and finally broke free of him, turning and running back to Heath's body.

The police officer, chilled from the night air and the shock of what he'd done, began dialling emergency from his car radio.

Kate screamed again as Harrison took a swipe at her. He forcibly dragged her back to the car but she punched Harrison and kicked him twice as hard. She ran back to Heath and flung herself upon him. In that moment, he was cold and still as she sobbed in the shadows. There was not another human in sight of the distraught girl.

'And then,' Greta added casually, 'the bullet holes started to heal. The flesh grew upon itself until not a mark could be seen through the holes in his shirt. Heath's chest began to rise and fall, his fingers moved, his warm, brown eyes opened.' Greta looked at me as she finished her tea. 'The last words from Heath before he got up and fled were, 'I will pay Harrison back for what he's done.'

Greta sighed. 'And sure enough, he did.'

**Chapter Eighteen **

_**London**_

Kate whispered in his ear, before he'd disappeared into the night, 'I'll pretend to go along with his plan - three months from now. The twenty-eighth like we planned.'

He kissed her forehead and fled.

Heath's disappearance was a mystery. Where a body had lain in the dark only mist seeped through the glass house as the solitary, crying girl was dragged forcibly back to Hareton Hall and then packed off to Switzerland.

The streets of Soho had been very cold at one am - summer, winter or any other season. It had been two days since he had been shot during his transition (and revived). When he fled Hampstead, after Kate was dragged from him, after she'd whispered the time and date of their wedding, he was speechless. Intent on survival, he disappeared into the Hampstead mist. Heath gorged himself on squirrels and hoped it would tide him over until he could get in to see his specialist, Dr Vincent.

Driving back to The Hall, Harrison was sure he'd seen the last of Heath. Although he suspected a vampire variation, he was sure he'd imagined, in his near drunken stupor, the events that had occurred in the early hours of that morning. It was, of course, Heath's eighteenth birthday. As midnight bells rang out, Heath was becoming immortal, shy of sunlight, wary of mirrors and gradually non-existent in photographs. Fearful of dawn and what he might do, the rest would evolve instinctively, over time. He would forge his own path.

After Kate was sent kicking and screaming to Switzerland, Heath's fees were withdrawn as Harrison had promised and the school was notified that Heath would not be returning.

Meanwhile, Heath's friends from Scotland were in school and he had no local acquaintances in Hampstead or the surrounding boroughs and even if he did, he wanted to get as far away from what he remembered of his childhood, as he could. He had the small amount of money he'd saved from running his school fixtures racket (and winning), as well as the cash Kate had placed in her letter.

'I do remember that,' Greta laughed and then let the story continue as if telling itself…

Heath had a small amount of cash plus the money Harrison had given him "what remained of his father's wish", as a "do not return gift" - one hundred pounds – an insult. It was a great deal less than he'd actually been owed; and none of the legacy left to him by his adopted father.

Heath used the money for supplies. He then spent the second night after riding the tube and sleeping rough in St James Park, in a backpacker's hostel near the West End. He now had real empathy for the homeless and resolved that when he became rich and powerful he would help those less fortunate.

As Heath was transitioning, his body was changing inside, but he never gave up hope that he would land on his feet. He was almost glad to be free of Harrison and The Hall but it was Kate's promise of love that kept him going through those cold, desperate nights.

On the third morning he emptied his pockets and realised just how short of cash he would be, once he'd put down a payment on a room for the week. He went to stay with the older brother of one of his school team mates but it soon became clear after a few nights that he couldn't hide his needs from that family and he'd outstayed his welcome. He slept in the park again but it was freezing. The humanity left in him ensured he still felt very cold.

By now, he'd managed to see his specialist, who'd commiserated with him and congratulated him on his eighteenth birthday. The tests showed a major change in his chemical make-up and it would take a few days for his medication to settle his imbalance. Heath still saw his own reflection in the mirror, still ate food and continued to try to live as normal a life as possible. He slept in more than he used to, the craving for human blood was stronger. The promise of Kate was enough, and all he survived for.

Heath was sufficiently recovered from the first step in his transformation. He'd experienced all of the symptoms: major light sensitivity, pain raging through his veins so badly that he curled up under a tree in St James Park and whimpered in daylight, cravings, chills and sweats. He found a tiny bedsit room in Soho. It wasn't long before he discovered, along with the bad side-effects of transition, that he'd developed the power to move quicker and think faster. He could literally see a massive series of complex numbers and add them up to get the correct result. His mathematics skills had always been excellent but now they were computer-like in their accuracy.

Heath resolved to find a job, perhaps two. He could always work in a restaurant, and then look for something else that would utilize his other skills.

He'd always been good at mathematics at school but now his mind worked like a computer. He thought working in a bank might be a good direction to take. He would apply for an entry level job that required no formal qualifications. First, he needed some fast cash since he'd nearly used up all he had. London was a huge place and although young and now partially a vampire, he did not allow this to deter him. Heath went to a hotel and merged so quickly through the lobby that they didn't notice his trip to the men's room. He used the shower and towels and cleaned himself up. He went outside and walked towards Piccadilly via Regent Street and into Soho, leaving his name at various cafes and pubs along the way.

Although he had no experience, someone was sure to need a kitchen hand. As long as the fumes from the cooking didn't get the best of him, he thought he might actually enjoy working with food. He realised, at least for the moment, night work would be best.

The first time he'd walked out in broad daylight (and London was mostly overcast, even in summer), his skin crackled, far worse than it had when he was a child. Then, he realised he'd forgotten to wear his medallion. He placed it around his neck after that, never taking it off, realising it contained the power to help him live a relatively normal life.

After he'd secured a job in a café, he applied for a job as office cleaner in one of the huge banks in the City. It wasn't much but both jobs gave Heath hope.

Meanwhile, he studied the stock market, hoping to one day make enough money to put a deposit on a flat. In those weeks, applying to finish school by correspondence, (something Heath once planned to do), went by the wayside.

It was during this transition phase in his life that he turned a corner one day and walked straight into Annabelle Hunt, rugged up in a cherry red overcoat exiting the building where her Soho art class was held. Displaying a previously unrecognised knack for rebellion, Annabelle had insisted on attending day school in London so she could go to Art classes at college in the evening. Her family had relented because Annabelle had so rarely been passionate about anything (apart from Heath) in her young life. As the girl had turned eighteen she had some say in the matter.

'Anyway,' Annabelle said, 'school was so lame once you and Kate were gone. There was no one interesting to talk to at all, except my brother, and he's hardly exciting.' Annabelle added in a rare display of personality as they sat together in the student coffee shop where Annabelle had insisted on dragging Heath.

Heath nodded. 'Ah, something we both agree on,' he added sarcastically.

Annabelle smiled self-consciously.

Heath had been resistant to sit with her at first, but strangely, seeing Annabelle reminded him of Kate, and talking to her was like old times.

'You look so different,' Annabelle said, peering into his eyes. Heath looked away.

'I have her address, you know,' Annabelle added as she stuffed her contact details into Heath's palm and kissed him on both cheeks in her European way. Heath agreed to stay in touch and that is how Annabelle became Heath's unlikely ally.

In his spare moments, Heath studied the stock markets. He learned a lot from the discarded ledgers thrown in the waste paper baskets he emptied at the firm where he worked on week nights.

After working in a pub during the day, he managed to put a deposit on a tiny bedsit. The plan was to save enough money to finish school at a Sixth Form College the following term then fill out his university entrance forms for the next year.

Annabelle had contact with Kate through mutual school friends and reconnected with Heath to let him know she would be delivering the cards and letters Kate posted to him, care of her. These postcards would have gone "missing" if they'd been posted from Switzerland because Kate was not allowed to send mail to anyone that Harrison, her guardian, hadn't agreed to. The "society" Hunts, were on his list.

Surprisingly, Annabelle had agreed to act as a go-between for the lovers. Heath hoped Kate would go to university with him. Although he knew she had her heart set on Art School in Florence, London was 'a better option' she had written, 'considering their finances.' Heath smiled when he read her note, as Annabelle looked on pensively. She quite liked playing the go-between. It suited her surprisingly humble nature, Heath thought, underestimating her, not for the first time. He knew Kate would be making the best of a presumably bad situation in Switzerland and he worked away the days before he'd get the chance to see her again. They re-confirmed the date of their rendezvous in their letters.

Sleeping rough in St James, hunting squirrels for food - those days were a distant memory - yet hard living had almost suited him.

He was young, verging on immortal. He could easily stay out all night and work all day but he rarely spoke to other people nor was he interested in other girls. He'd taken Kate's red scarf; she'd left it in the stables in a rush, and now Heath kept it in his pocket. The wool was warm and smelt of her perfume.

His own bedsit, although grungy, was like a palace to Heath after the turmoil of Hareton Hall. In preparation for Kate's visit, Annabelle had insisted on buying lengths of material and decorating the windows. Occasionally, she wondered what it would have been like had Heath returned her infatuation at school but her new boyfriend, Toby, was good for her. He was also studying Art History. She knew she was in a better place with a man who could reciprocate her feelings. It was enough, she thought, just to be near Heath but Annabelle did not underestimate how important his new friendship was to her.

Heath was excited as the day drew nearer. He walked past the place Kate had arranged to meet him many times that week. On the second occasion he was sure he'd seen her, but then the girl turned around and her eyes were nothing like those of the woman he loved. Kate had promised him. Kate would be there. Promises were everything. A promise was all they had. The walls of his room were pasted with the old-fashioned post cards Kate had sent him every day for a week.

Through all of this, Annabelle had been the conduit. A secretive message relayed from a secret meeting in St James Park. She had even tried to stuff money in Heath's pocket while he waited for his first pay cheque. It was enough to give Heath and Kate hope since neither of them had telephones and the internet was barely in use.

The sun shone in London as Heath waited for Kate and their reunion drew near. He'd been holding down two jobs and with a roof over his head, was filled with hope for the future.

**Chapter Nineteen**

_**Promises**_

Meanwhile, Kate was unreasonably cold in the Alps.

Her roommates were chattering away by the fire, three to a room. They'd only known each other for a few months but already they were friendly, Kate thought, especially after she'd shown them the picture of her and Heath. On cold afternoons after deportment class and flower arranging and French cooking and "How to Entertain Diplomats" or "How to Behave When Greeting the Royal Family" tutorials were over, the girls socialized.

They turned their iron upside down, pulled out the small milk pan they hoarded for this very occasion, and made hot chocolates by pouring milk into the pan and sitting the pan on the underside of the iron to heat the milk. Their drinks were laced with the cream and marsh mellows they bought in the tiny convenience store in town. The girls sipped hot chocolate as they talked. The topic of discussion was usually Kate, Heath and their "everlasting love".

One of Kate's roommates, Tracey, was from California. She spoke in an accent Kate loved and made LA seem like a place Kate would definitely like to go one day. Daisy, the shorter one with dark hair, was from London.

'Oh, he's really cute,' Daisy said.

'Yes, he's hot. I would…definitely,' Trace replied with a wicked smile.

Kate smiled. 'Well, neither of you can have him, he's all mine,' Kate said, snatching the photograph, knowing she'd probably never have the pleasure of another image now that Heath was in the process of transition.

'Are you sure?' Tracey asked mischievously. 'All alone in London after your brother treated him so…scandalously?'

'Yes, it really was terrible to throw the _foster _child…out like that,' Daisy added. 'My mother would never treat a foundling that way. It just looks really bad to the outside world…'

Kate had told them the whole story (well, the parts she could repeat – nothing about Heath's transition) but they somehow always got the details wrong.

'Heath is so hot,' Daisy said, glancing at the photograph of Kate and Heath taken just days before they ran away from Hareton Hall. Kate looked at the picture nostalgically.

'Gosh your house sounds so romantic, tucked away opposite a frozen park…' Daisy added.

Kate unfolded the letter she had received from Heath by way of Annabelle and re-read it as she stirred the milk pan, making sure a plastic skin didn't form.

'Only one more week,' she thought '…before I'm free of this place forever.'

The girls had been sworn to secrecy and Kate had worked out the route she would take from the school, down to the convenience store across the sleet road to the bus stop, down the mountain road to the train station, through the tunnel in the mountain…across the channel then on to London.

The café was in Dean Street. From the corner table you could see the cobbled pathway that led towards Covent Garden. Art students and opera singers busked there in the hub of shops and cafes and people.

It had been a long three months and in that time Heath and Kate had communicated using letters and postcards.

In the pre-internet nineties, Kate and Heath needed Annabelle as their intermediary.

The cards and letters Kate wrote Heath during their enforced separation lined the wall of the tiny room he'd taken. They began to arrive less than a week after Heath and Kate separated. Kate found a local bakery near the school where she walked to in her lunch hours and religiously posted a card to Heath using Annabelle's address. Sometimes at night after Heath had eaten food brought home with him from the pub (always some kind of red meat or chicken), he fell asleep reading the names of the cards on the wall.

The words: _holiday, skiing_ and _Switzerland_ became a kind of pattern in his mind; a pathway out of the daily grind he told himself was only temporary. He recognised a stronger desire for blood (and always the desire for revenge on Harrison) the closer he got to midnight.

His love for Kate tempered him. He was sure it made him a better person to know he had to be the best he could, for her. He resisted the evils lurking in St James. Daily, he was tempted by the homeless people on the street, the women in expensive coats, business men in even more expensive suits. Their veins pulsed at him like light if he was even a few minutes late taking his medication. He'd explained all of this to Kate in a letter; the one in ten thousand chance he'd had of being born a hybrid, then turning into a vampire; how his biological father must have carried the gene but not necessarily suffered from its affliction.

The night he was due to see Kate, Annabelle and some of her Art School friends took Heath out to celebrate the fact that he had applied and been accepted into a training program at the firm where he cleaned. His brilliance with numbers and ability to stay up all night studying ensured him the highest marks in the exam. They went to a restaurant in the centre of town where Annabelle, who had pretty much given up on Heath as anything but a friend, had arranged a surprise for Heath. Kate's arrival was not supposed to be until the next day, Saturday, but she'd managed to "escape" early, as she put it.

Kate waited for Heath expectantly. She wore a scarlet coat and a matching scarf and her hair was swept up in a winter woollen cap, making her appear sophisticated beyond her years. Annabelle arrived with a group of friends from Art School and headed to the reserved table.

'Kate! It's so wonderful to see you. I cannot believe you are back in London for good! Don't worry; everyone thinks you are staying with me. They won't notice you've gone missing until Tuesday - plenty of time for you and Heath…'

'I can't thank you enough, Annabelle.' Kate said.

'Well,' Annabelle replied, 'I hope we can be friends now, as we were always meant to be.' Annabelle glanced over at the handsome Art School student she was dating and Kate realised Annabelle was finally over Heath. Maybe it was true they could at last be friendly. Without her cover, she would never have been able to escape the day before her birthday.

'Thank you so much for being such a true friend to me Annabelle.'

'Not at all, it's about time Harrison got some of his own medicine. I've always liked Heath… as you know, but let's face it, he only ever had eyes for you,' Anne added.

When Heath arrived, expecting to see Annabelle and her other friends (who were now his friends) he was completely floored.

'Kate! You changed your mind and arrived early!' he said as she shyly kissed him on both cheeks.

'I wish. Tomorrow,' she whispered in his ear, 'I'm yours forever.'

Kate flung her arms around him and together they sat with the group while they all decided where to go for dinner. Something cheap but cheerful in Soho was the general consensus. Heath chatted excitedly about his new job opportunity and Kate told him about her plans to enrol in Art College with Annabelle.

Kate leaned in toward Heath and took his hand under the table. 'I don't care what happens now as long as I'm with you,' she said. 'Finishing School was a nightmare.'

Heath smiled back with his eyes and whispered to her, 'I love you.' He had invested his stock market winnings and had managed to double the money in a month. It was enough for them to have their deposit on a flat.

'The room in Covent Garden, it's tiny, it's not much, but soon I'll be making so much money. In a few years you'll be able to choose the finest house in London - or, who knows, we could move to America. I've always wanted to go there.'

They talked this way all night, making plans for their future. They couldn't tell anyone about their plans for the next morning, not even Annabelle. It was too risky to involve others. They intended to stay up all night until their wedding day which would be the following morning.

'New York is supposed to be brilliant,' Kate said as she ate the salad off her plate and passed Heath the chicken.  
'It is for artists,' Toby said. Kate was keen to meet Toby, Annabelle's boyfriend. Belle had been secretly seeing him for months. It was the reason for her move to London. Annabelle's father didn't approve of her dating an artist. In defiance Annabelle had run away from home. Her father had not dared to cut her off financially though, as Heath and Kate had been. Annabelle was in love (for the second time, Kate thought with a smile). Belle's new passion finally took the heat off Heath, although he'd obviously grown to like Annabelle. They'd made better friends than he'd anticipated. Unexpectedly, Annabelle dragged Toby up off his seat and they began to dance to some random eighties song together.

Kate leant in, 'Wow Art School has certainly changed Annabelle …"

Heath replied, 'For the better, I'd say. By the way, how long before they notice you're missing and phone the authorities?'

Kate said, 'You mean Harrison …'

'Yes.'

'Well, they think I'm staying with Annabelle until Tuesday. By tomorrow, I'll be eighteen and they won't have any say in the matter.'

Kate leant in and Heath kissed her, the strobe lighting played tricks with their shadows as he whispered, 'I'm under control. I just thought you should know. I've been to the specialist and he says I may not devolve any further as long as I stay on my…'

Kate put her finger to his lips, 'We love each other. That is all that matters.'

At midnight, Heath replayed those words many times in his head. He could see Kate's expectant face as Annabelle and Toby wandered off to another club. Heath and Kate hailed a taxi.

'I want you so much,' Kate whispered to Heath in the back of the London cab.

'Me too, but we should wait until morning.'

'What do you mean?' Kate smiled.

'By morning, the transition for me will be almost complete. My specialist told me the first phase takes three months, unless there is a relapse. I've been taking my medication now for almost three months and I'm… stable. I won't be tempted to…drain you…' Heath then looked away as he said this and pulled out of his jacket the ring he'd been carrying in his pocket since his first pay cheque. He'd lived on nothing and saved every cent to buy Kate the style of ring that he thought she deserved. The diamond was larger and more expensive than a young man in his position would have been able to afford, but it was a token of his trust in their future and his faith in Kate's complete love. The diamond shone.

'Oh, Heath, it's beautiful.'

Kate slipped it on her finger.

'Happy birthday Kate.'

'It fits perfectly,' Kate said as she slid her arms around Heath's broad shoulders and kissed him passionately.

'Oh, we need to do this properly,' Kate whispered, coming up for breath.

'Driver, pull over please,' Heath said.

The cab pulled up on the curb near the well-heeled part of Kensington where the shops were freshly painted.

Heath asked the driver to wait, while he opened the door and helped Kate out.

In the street lights, Kate walked with Heath towards a clothing shop.

'Wait outside,' she warned, 'I had access to some money for the ski trip I'm meant to go on. I ordered something from this store in Switzerland. The store had it packed up and sent to the London shop. You're not allowed to see it yet.'

Kate returned with a large bag. Inside was her wedding dress. It had been packaged up for her collection, all arranged weeks ago.

Before she could add anything in words, Heath kissed her.

'Kate, you have made me the happiest person in London.'

'And you have made me the happiest woman in the world, in the universe,' Kate said. It was first light as they drove towards the tiny church in Chelsea; Kate recalled scrawling the words _Katherine & Heath own the universe…_all over her school texts when she was younger. Soon those words would be a reality. Kate knew they belonged together - her dream was coming true.

It was freezing; flakes of snow began to fall from the sky as they walked up the steps. Kate emerged from a side room dressed in her cream lace vintage gown. Heath was talking with the vicar. They'd bought flowers from a street seller on the way and Kate held a large bouquet of tulips.

Together they said their traditional vows and both embraced on their promise. Kate shivered as they kissed.

They exchanged words of thanks with the vicar who remarked on their youth. After the promise of their love, they signed the registry.

Outside as they hailed a cab, Kate and Heath kissed again with an intensity that made people on the footpath stare.

Heath smiled, filled with love for his beautiful new wife. He had wanted her from the first moment they had kissed, yet they had waited to be free. They reached for each other in the back seat of the London cab as they headed towards Soho. Heath had spent his whole pay cheque on a suite at the best hotel in Covent Garden. The exquisite room with the Queen sized double bed and fresh sheets was strewn with the petals of Kate's favourite flowers as Heath carried his young wife over the threshold. For the first time in months, as they kissed passionately and undid the buttons on lace and silk, their lives seemed rich with possibility.

The afternoon had been perfect. The transitions occurred in the shadows, in the early hours, as Kate lay sleeping. She woke and hugged Heath to her, nursing him through his night terrors, checking they had all the necessary supplies of Type A, plasma, elixir, medication. The final part of the six-month process was the worst, they'd been told. Kate soothed Heath as he fell back into a trancelike sleep.

In the early morning, a knock at the door woke Heath. Kate had risen earlier and was using the hair dryer. A messenger delivered a note addressed to Heath who read it quickly.

'I'm just going outside for a moment,' he said through the gap in the bathroom door.

'Uh, okay,' she called out to him. Silence was the response.

Kate wrapped her dressing gown around her and padded into the room with wet feet. She searched the hallway of the hotel; nothing. It worried her that the messenger and Heath had disappeared into dawn.

Heath had hastily scribbled a note for her and left it on the bed.

**Forget me until I find you. Wait for me, I'll return. I'm sorry H.**

Kate was shocked. It couldn't be Heath's writing, but it was. Kate dropped the note on the floor, pulled on her clothes hastily and ran out onto the street, bare foot, to look for him. After an hour on the street, searching through the crowds, it was hopeless. Her feet, bloodied and bruised, were the least of her troubles. Heath had disappeared into thin air. All Kate had left was the memory of the first night they'd spent together, blissfully entwined in each other's arms.

**Chapter Twenty**

**London**

_**Three Years Later **_

Heath was walking home from work after he'd been photographed for the cover of New Business Magazine. The journalist was writing about Financial Whizz Kids – the title chosen for the article. Heath tried to remain himself but the art director had insisted on having his hair messed, his tie skewed and his jacket open, giving him the appearance of a rock star and making him more famous amongst his colleagues in a week than he had been in a year. Women he'd never met messaged him. Heath told them he was married and most of them stopped. He was too young to be married but then he explained he'd met his wife when they were teenagers and they just raised their eyebrows.

Soho on Friday night was lit up with music and lights, like a buzzing carnival act. The West End was busy every night of the week. Heath had been working in the City making more money in his first year as a stock trader than he'd dreamt possible. Through extreme luck and, some might say, mathematical genius, financial fortune came his way. He was a mystery to his co-workers, but Heath knew the truth; that he never slept, that he was able to do in one day what took others a week; he could stay awake and trade in every time zone.

After trawling the usual after-work bars with work colleagues (referred to euphemistically as "friends"), Heath often ended up near his home in Chelsea at a small cafe, drinking elixir from a flask and checking the Asian markets as he waited for his supper of rare roasted lamb, occasionally fish, sometimes chicken – always protein. He usually arrived at his house in the early hours of the morning and was up again and seated at his desk by six in the morning.

He was aware that more than a decade of living this lifestyle would take its toll on his family, yet he existed in the moment. Money markets and stockbroking firms were where traders like him could make a huge profit and get out by the time they hit thirty, which gave him about nine years until burn out. And then some, because he'd been warned now, he wouldn't appear to age more than twenty-six years. He had made a full transition, immortality beckoned. He loved the feeling money and this new vampirical power gave him. It had taken him less than a year to turn his life around and he couldn't help but congratulate himself on his good fortune. He never had any doubt that he was as good as anyone else, as capable as any person.

Heath stayed out late to avoid going home. It was true their house was envied in a street full of beautiful homes and families, but it was all surface. To the outside world, they seemed so perfect. Still, he knew he'd made this "fast money" by doing things he never dreamt he'd do – marrying into wealth, identifying the weaknesses of other men and preying on them. As he made money, others lost it.

When the waiter brought the tall, striking young man in the dark suit another coffee as he'd requested, Heath remembered the request from his wife. She had asked him to bring groceries home - milk, bread, mundane things, nothing special. The message had been given to him in his office six hours ago. She's added love and kisses as she always did, revealing her true self with each forgotten word. It had all become a bit old to Heath. He flinched when he recalled the embarrassing note.

Familiar music played in the café; a beautiful song, sung by a band Kate had liked, all about the perfection of a day. For evening, it couldn't have been a more inappropriate song. Nevertheless, the music played as Heath drank his coffee and went over the business transactions on his laptop as the wait staff began to clear up and wonder when the last customer would leave.

The words of the song played over and over in his mind.

Heath sighed, wondering why Kate always came back to him when he was alone. He wished she could be erased from his memory, forever. Any good psychologist would tell him he was better off without her. Heath finished his drink, and then went to the street to hail a cab. Of course, he wasn't far from the bedsit they'd shared briefly after they'd married. The West End was filled with his memory of her.

Meanwhile, Kate was at home at The Grange wondering how it had all gone so wrong. She sat in the window seat in the moonlight, doing some sketches under a lamp for the theatre design she was drafting. The drawings were a welcome distraction from her personal life and she'd grown to enjoy the drawing and planning along with the productions she worked on at the theatre with Annabelle; at twenty-one, she felt old.

_**Two years previously**_

Kate gave birth to a girl, Katarina.

The baby's birth was premature, yet she survived. Kate and the baby's nanny were waving toys above Katarina's crib in the nursery at The Grange, six months later. It was a lighter, airier room than the one at Hareton Hall, decorated with pink curtains at Annabelle's insistence. There was a familiarity at The Grange which led to a certain type of contentment as Kate soothed her baby. Just as she was about to sing Katarina her favourite lullaby, Annabelle ran breathlessly into the room.

'Kate, I have to tell you something,' Belle whispered. 'The detective contacted me this morning; he's discovered money being deposited into Heath's bank account; they traced it to New York. Heath's been living over there.'

Kate was silent.

'Don't you see what that means, Kate?' she whispered. 'He's alive! We thought the worst when his bank account hadn't been touched.'

'Yes,' Kate said. 'I felt he was alive. What am I supposed to say? He abandoned me.' She turned and walked purposefully up the stairs. The wild haired girl she had once been was prematurely replaced by a grown up wife. Kate looked at herself in the mirror as she dressed in her old jeans, red sweater and expensive winter coat. All she saw in the reflection was a miserable young woman, a terrible mistake. What choice did she have? Kate had wanted a father for her child.

Months of wondering and searching for Heath who was untraceable had been hard on her. The man she loved had proved himself worse than unreliable. She knew she should be forgiving as Annabelle would no doubt be, yet she found it difficult to smile. If Heath did return, he was sure to be angry.

'He'll come to visit you, I know he will,' Annabelle said as she walked into Kate's room.

Kate just looked at her, barely smiling. They walked downstairs.

'Well it won't do much good now, will it? I'm going to see what Greta has made for lunch.' Kate glanced briefly at the parcel Annabelle had left for her on the dining room table.

'These are the photographs I took,' Annabelle added.

Annabelle had taken photography as one of her core subjects at Art College. She had a job as a gallery assistant in a Soho studio. Her photographs were artistically lit but practically framed, perfect for advertising a production such as the one Kate was now co-designing in the West End.

Kate's passion for painting had not subsided. She'd also completed a theatre design course and her sketches were much in demand. Motherhood, and the beginnings of her artistic career, had gone part way to rectifying the monotony of her days. Katarina and painting made her focus on the future.

That week, Harrison, his wife Frances and her young brother Hinton, had gone to Ireland to visit the premises of a new company. Edmund Hunt, Kate's husband, was spending the day at his office in the City. Kate had agreed to house sit at Hareton Hall that night with the baby and her nanny, but only to satisfy her sister-in-law's wishes.

Kate was working on one of her final designs for the play due to open the following month, and feeding Katarina, when she rushed up to the kitchen and hung her head over the sink. Though her stomach was flat, she felt unsettled and nauseated, again. The thought of bringing a new life into her world was quite shocking although she knew Edmund would be happy about it. Kate put the symptoms of pregnancy out of her mind. After Katarina and her nanny were settled upstairs, Kate decided to explore.

It was strange to pad around Hareton Hall in bare feet and her dressing gown for the first time in years. The memories were provoking a strong reaction in her.

The mansion was quiet but it still felt more like home than The Grange. She felt the absence of Heath and her father, everywhere she wandered. The usual staff had Sunday afternoon off, including Greta. Kate had turned all the chandelier lights on (the electricity bill was sure to annoy Harrison) and turned the downstairs music up. She wasn't that far away from being a teenager even though she was now a mother; she felt like softly dancing the roof off, if only to forget how much of a mess she'd made of everything.

When she finished moving to the music, she decided to explore the upper floors. She peeked into the playroom where Katarina was soundly asleep. The nanny, whom Edmund had insisted on employing (she had raised both him and Annabelle), was knitting a cardigan in the comfortable arm chair and placed her fingers to her lips. Kate quietly shut the door. Although the nanny was brilliant, Kate sometimes thought the woman considered her too young to be an adequate mother.

Wandering alone through the top floors, she was surprised to find her former bedroom was similar to the way she had left it. Her school mementos had been placed in boxes high in the cupboard and labelled in Franny's neat, clear, handwriting. Photographs from every year of her childhood and adolescence, as well as old videos, were stacked side by side.

It was kind of Frances not to have thrown them out, Kate thought. Previously, she'd had little to do with her sister-in-law though they now lived ten minutes apart. There was even a box of old school uniforms. Kate took out her blue blazer with red piping around the edges, the one she'd worn to boarding school in Scotland. Then she pulled a large, woven basket towards her. She intended to have a huge throw out, to leave the past behind her once and for all.

Cleaning up was busy work and mid-morning; half way through throwing out her old clothes, Kate became bored. She checked on Katarina, kissed her precious face, fed her, and then considered her clothing options. Kate dragged her old riding clothes from her wardrobe and pulled on high, polished black boots that matched her long, curly dark hair. Kate twisted her curls into a loose bun and grabbed her coat. It was true that Harrison had maintained the house but it was sure to be chaotic again soon with the imminent return of the rambunctious yet adorable Hinton.

On occasion she had found Hinton, a few years older than Katarina, standing by her cot and attempting to hold hands with the baby or teach her words she didn't know. He was a very protective, sweet natured child, although Kate constantly worried for his future in the care of Harrison. Yet Hinton's good nature seemed to bring out the best in everyone around him, including her brother.

Thirsty, she stomped to the kitchen, aware of her noisy feet on the polished floors. The music had stopped and the place was almost eerie. Kate missed her father, but not enough to live in the house that held the memory of him, Heath and of their shared childhood. Kate poured herself a large glass of water and drank it quickly. Almost as quickly, she grabbed her scarf and went outside to the stables, pulling the door shut behind her. The wind, which was rising across the Heath in the distance, along the walking tracks and riding trails, was harsh. Her lips were red and her cheeks flushed with cold and exercise.

Kate patted, brushed and saddled her horse but she decided to walk alongside Hero through the park trail. It was not a great day for riding in her possible condition. Although it started out sunny, it became cool, windy and overcast. Kate knew exactly where to find shelter when the storm that had earlier threatened to interrupt her afternoon, finally arrived, after she'd been walking Hero for half an hour. Kate removed her wedding ring, the one that rubbed on her finger with the reigns and placed it in her pocket. She wore her first one around her neck, close to her heart.

**Chapter Twenty-one**

_**Revenge**_

Hampstead Heath had a thin film of lavender mist hanging over it during winter as she headed for the Glass House. There were very few people in the meadow at this hour of the day. Kate was invigorated from the cool air in a way she wouldn't have been had she stayed inside. Her usual routine - a light lunch, nurse Katarina, read or do some yoga - before wading through the play script that lay in wait for her had been replaced by her ramble. She had more ideas about the design of the play she was working on and had brought paper with her to sketch the arboretum. The garden was the central motif in the play and she wanted to take another look at the architecture.

Kate tied her horse up and got him some water. As she did this, a familiar horse rode towards her, or maybe she just thought his markings were familiar. As she looked closer through the clearing, it was the rider she recognised. He was slightly older, leaner, yet unmistakably the man who had filled her every waking dream and now her nightmares.

Heath alighted from his horse in the easy manner of a country squire.

Kate looked over at him. Even from a distance, she could hardly believe he was real.

He walked towards her, slowly, with purpose.

Before they spoke she reached over when he paused to touch his face as if to ask the vision before her if he even existed.

'Heath?' She whispered.

'Yes,' he replied. 'It's me.'

'But…you've been gone…for three years. I tried to find you. What happened? How did you come to be here?'

'Perhaps I should be the one asking questions. I saw your marriage notice in the paper not long after we parted.'

Kate was silent for a moment.

'You left me,' she said.

Heath's face displayed a knowing, hardened expression with more than a twinge of anger.

'I am staying at the pub. I have business with Harrison in relation to Hareton Hall. I went around looking for him but there was no one at home. I saw your car in the driveway and I didn't think you'd be far. The horses were there - all except Hero. One of them was practically biting his way out of the stable, so I thought I'd take him out. He seems to remember me.'

Heath patted the animal and went to tie the reigns.

'Business… with Harrison?'

'Yes. Greta told me you'd be here. You might be interested to know that I am soon to be the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

'How?'

'Harrison mortgaged it to my company; he lost his money gambling. The house was going cheap and I put a down payment on it. I officially own it as of…about three minutes ago. '

Heath smiled. Kate knew she didn't have the full details of the matter but suddenly realized how good he must feel.

She visibly shivered as Heath took her gloved hand in his.

'I am to be your new neighbour Mrs Hunt.'

Kate sighed, never having doubted, in the faint possibility if he ever revealed himself to her again, Heath would one day be the stronger of them.

'And what of Harrison?'

'Oh, he can remain in the guest cottage until he's found another place to stay. It's all arranged.'

Together they walked in breathless silence towards the glass house where they had met as children. There were overgrown hothouse flowers and benches and comfortable chairs for lovers. The chairs had been unused all winter until Kate and Heath rested upon them, side by side. Again they sat in silence for what seemed the longest stretch of time. Actually it was only a few minutes.

Both former lovers were angry. Kate was almost speechless.

'Did you read the note I left?'

'Yes, you said you'd find me,' Kate replied softly. 'It wasn't enough. All those legal terms…none of them true.'

'I needed proof. Harrison told me we shared the same biological father…' He showed Kate the note.

_Forget your unnatural desires, _it read_. Apart from the fact that you are a monster there are few grounds for an annulment and marrying a close relative is one of them. I tried to keep you both apart for a reason. Kate is your half-sister. Mother left because she knew! That's what they were fighting about that night, more than ten years ago. I heard them! You are father's biological child. He said so himself…Do Kate a favour and leave her. I'll arrange an annulment at this end. We'll tell her you changed your mind. I'm sure she'll understand once she knows the truth. I tried to warn you. Thank me later, Harrison._

Kate shook her head after she read it.

'I am not surprise. Harrison told me of the supposed connection. I suspected he was lying.'

Heath was silent. Kate tore the letter up.

'Later, after I married Edmund he admitted it was another of his lies, designed to tear us apart - only this one worked,' Kate said regretfully.

Heath noticed Kate's scarlet riding jacket. It contrasted with her black riding boots and reminded him of blood. The colours suited her well. Blood reminded him of betrayal.

He would never admit that he envied her marriage and longed for revenge upon her family that went further than just the ownership of Hareton Hall. In any case, Kate must have expected the foreclosure on her childhood home since there had been talk all over town for months that Harrison was going broke and had dragged the family name into disrepute. Then he remembered that it was likely Kate barely knew anything. She rarely spoke to her brother.

'What have we done Heath?' she said after a long silence.

He could see her breath, cold in the air and longed more than ever to do what he'd always resisted doing; to do what he'd done in the endless nights of travel, parks and animal blood. Then, after he had money, there had been the empty living of hotel suites, women and elixir to help drown his misery. It had taken him months to trace his mother, to find out the truth. The specialist had told him he could be fairly sure Harrison's allegation was untrue but for total confirmation he'd have to locate his biological mother and trace some evidence of his biological father. It had all taken so much longer than he'd expected, several weeks. He'd been in virtual limbo in the meantime, not wanting to burden Kate with his misery after he'd tried to find her. He'd seen her through the windows of The Grange that night, looking so content.

He felt more empowered inside than ever since he'd allowed his true nature to emerge. Once he'd stopped worrying about Kate's thoughts he could begin to live the life he was born to live. He looked at her again, the veins in her wrist and neck, thumping, tormenting him.

Her hand moved to his and she looked at him pleadingly. In that moment, he was sure he hated her unfairly. The glimpse of the wedding ring near her neck convinced him he was right. His plan for vengeance had stirred in him ever since he'd seen Edmund kissing Kate in the window seat that night. Weeks after Heath and Kate married; Heath's transition phase began to stabilize. He wanted her back.

Kate looked at him accusingly.

'How can you look at me like that? You married another. You didn't wait as I asked you to. Harrison had drained the family funds and I now see what a good idea it was for you to marry richly and quickly and…to that spoilt brat Hunt. I see how easily an annulment was arranged, given the feigned reasoning that we were biologically…related. I can't believe you actually went through with the new marriage. Of course, it all makes perfect sense, given the way you were raised and your brother's distorted value system…'

'In my defence, there was a good reason. You abandoned me. Harrison finally admitted it wasn't true but by then I couldn't…locate you.'

'I came to find you, weeks later, after I'd made sure…everything was as it needed to be.'

'I was dragged to Verbier to recover from my broken heart. I had a skiing accident. I was unconscious for three days! I couldn't get a message to you. I looked for you everywhere. I tried to find you but you had…disappeared. I waited for you… long enough. You had simply, vanished. It was…logical for me to…marry Edmund, I had no choice…I never believed you would ever come back to me. Not after the note Harrison wrote.'

'I said I would return. Love is not logical Kate. I'm sure your mother taught you that…' He coughed into the sleeve of his jacket as he said this. Kate was alarmed by his thinness and pallor. He looked hungry.

'You are so cruel Heath. You know my mother taught me very little except how to leave.' The woman stood, but she did not move away from him. Just being near him gave her strength and courage. The scent of Kate's perfume was an elixir to Heath, as magical as her blood which he longed to drink. He moved closer.

'Stay,' Heath said. 'Please stay. No piece of paper should separate us.' He took her gloved hand, looking desperate for the first time and slumped into her shoulder. 'Please, get me my…drink. It's in the saddle bag.'

Kate got up and grabbed a flask, taking off the top and poured Heath some amber liquid.

'How is your…condition?'

Heath took a sip and looked at her as if he might eat her.

'Manageable.'

He'd torn the leg off a turkey and eaten it before he'd come to find her. At least the leg was cooked. He hadn't stooped to raw meat yet, unless it was a fresh animal kill.

By then, from the look on her face, Heath knew he had gone too far. Kate, like him, had had very little parental guidance. The girl turned on him as he regained his strength, lashing out…

'You don't know everything…you don't know anything! You went missing after our wedding, remember? I thought you'd abandoned me or worse, that you were dead! What did you expect?'

'I… I didn't want to hurt you with the truth about our family… what I've since learnt was false. I went for a walk to clear my head but the transition caused me to collapse in a gutter. I woke up three days later in a police station…'

'You should have known…Harrison would do anything to separate us.'

Kate looked away.

'I know… for that I owe you an apology.' Heath said. 'Harrison's lie was a shock to say the least. Something I wanted to spare you. To do that, I needed the truth. I needed to find my…birth mother.'

He did not wish to elaborate upon the murkier details of the conversation he'd had when Harrison had inferred Kate was a blood relation.

Kate looked away, 'I know,' was all she said.

'When I had proof, I contacted Greta. She begged me not to make trouble but I had to find you anyway. Then I learnt you'd gone skiing…with the Hunts.'

'You had disappeared. Annabelle offered comfort and support…'

'Yes, I know, and her brother…' Heath said sarcastically, 'You've always been perfectly capable of impressing your…admirers, Kate. I hear you are the talk of the theatre world, young designer of the season, your drawings and paintings nominated for an award…'

'Oh, you never cared about me having a career…how dare you joke about it now! We both know all that seems meaningless in relation to…all of this.'

Heath turned and held Kate by the shoulders, 'You're right, I never did care about _your career_ as you put it, because all I wanted was you…'

'And you had me…'

Heath laughed sardonically.

Kate continued '… You were the one who went missing, _remember_.'

'Yes and now look at you, married to someone else with barely three months between us. Harrison must have really pulled strings to have the annulment rushed through.'

Kate looked away.

'The paperwork was destroyed. It was all hushed up. No one except the family knew we were even married.'

**Chapter Twenty-two **

_**Reunion **_

He was tempted to twist her arm with more than a little bit of force. Tempted to kiss her wrist, plunge his teeth into it, suck her blood and drain the life out of her. But he held back. If she'd come too close, he didn't know if he'd be able to control himself. Since he'd turned twenty one, everything had changed. Even with medication, he spent his nights out hunting, baying for blood, preying on animals when he couldn't resist. So far, he'd drawn the line at innocent humans but he craved their energy, especially Kate's. Her blood had always been tempting to him.

'I waited for you to return,' Kate repeated, frustrated with the tone of the conversation, 'until I could wait no longer.' Her words were greeted with stony indifference as they walked together, yet apart. 'I would've waited for you forever, if you'd just sent me some word, a proper explanation.'

'Well, it didn't take you long to make your choice,' Heath said bitterly.

'You gave up too easily…' Kate said incredulously.

Heath continued to talk. 'Stupidly, I left quickly, without talking to you. I went to find the doctor on Harley Street; I thought he would be able to shed some light on Harrison's lies, give me proof we were not brother and sister. My specialist was abroad. By the time I walked back to the bedsit to find you, it was almost midday. I went past that tiny pub near Dean Street where people had already congregated and was caught in the middle of a fight on the footpath. I don't know how it happened but I was knocked out and found myself in the back of a van being taken for questioning by the police. They locked me up that night and as we didn't have the telephone, I couldn't speak to you. I passed out.

Without my supplies, things just went from bad to worse. I became delirious. When I woke, I was desperate to find you.

There was a girl and a man that night as I walked back to our flat, and they were fighting and he brought out a knife. There was no one else around and when he threatened her, then me… I… snapped. I did not know my full strength. It was the first time I ever… fed on a human. The girl fled. The man was alive when I left him but I felt so despicable. Still, I wanted to find you, though I could hardly face you. You weren't at the bedsit and…I believed he would have killed the girl if I hadn't…stopped him - but I was out of control by then. I vowed never to let myself become like that and to find out the truth about…us.'

Kate was shocked; she didn't know what to say.

'Perhaps in some cases…violence is justified. I am not afraid of you, Heath.'

'Their fight started with a few misplaced words and a punch being thrown out on the street…but ours started so much sooner. We were always from two different worlds, Kate, but two halves of the same whole, even so.'

Heath looked embarrassed as he told Kate the rest of the story.

'I tried to contact you. I'd spent the night locked up and a further day talking my way out of everything - it's a long story - there was no match to me on the man's person so they couldn't charge me. Oh, that's the latest thing, my…fingerprints have disappeared. And… when I look in the mirror, I barely see my image. But I'm still okay in the sun, as long as I wear this.' He pulled out the amulet her father had made sure he wore as a young child.

'I was very…angry when I got back to Hampstead. I felt…unworthy of you, but I was determined to find you. I had my answer from Dr Vincent and I was satisfied the necessary tests had been made to ensure we were not related. Then, I made my way back here to Hareton Hall and walked across this park. It was almost exactly three years ago today.

As I approached the house, Hareton Hall was lit up like a Christmas tree. I felt a pang of…envy, jealousy as if I didn't know how I'd react if I saw you. Kate, for the first time in my life, after what had just happened, I didn't trust myself around you. I was determined to demand your whereabouts from Harrison if you had been, as I believed you were…sent back to Switzerland. I'd already contacted the school after I returned to our empty bedsit, but they gave me nothing, because they weren't allowed to tell me anything. Then they suggested you might be at The Hall. I thought maybe Annabelle had told someone… that we planned to run away together…'

'No,' Kate said, 'she was loyal to us both…'

Heath continued…

'When I finally saw the inside of that house, through the big lower floor bay window where you always used to sit and read, I saw Hunt's face, and Annabelle's, laughing. There was a puppy in your arms and you looked happy. Harrison and Frances seemed so… self-satisfied on the couch. Harrison was playing the "good husband" and talking amiably to Frances. I could hardly contain my…rage when I saw your beautiful, smiling face in the corner room looking outside.'

'I was looking…for you.'

'Well…I'm glad you didn't see me.' Heath said resignedly.

'I'm not glad.'

'When I saw Hunt come over and hand you a gift, something inside me, changed.'

'It was Christmas…tradition…'

'I gathered that. But it was unbearable to me. He…kissed you.'

'The party was celebrating my recovery. I could hardly walk after the ski trip. I'd been in a coma and I'd woken up…and you had been missing for so long.'

'I know. But the gloating look on Harrison's face and Hunt's obvious attraction to you, made me angry. I felt like killing him. You kissed him back, Kate.'

'I was acting. I had no choice.'

'I think you were happy with them… with the security Hunt provided for you in that moment …like that. It seemed to be what you had always wanted.'

There was a long silence that hung between them like ice.

'I vowed revenge.'

Kate nodded slowly.

'I have since thought… I may have been…partly…responsible. Heath, I called everywhere asking for you prior to the day of my marriage.'

'I was… not fit for company after that moment. I stayed watching you in the shadows, my anger slowly submerged into whatever is left of my soul, along with the happiness on your face.'

'Like I said, I was pretending. You must have turned away before Hunt carried me to the dining room table. But if you hadn't, you may have realised why I couldn't walk there myself. My foot was bandaged. It had nothing to do with love.'

Heath said, 'I thought you had made your choice.'

'Never, I spent days in the bedsit crying over you before Greta came and found me. I was whisked away to Switzerland that weekend, it's true. But I planned to find you the moment I could walk again.'

Kate looked down at her muddy boots. The horses, sheltered, were ready to move again.

Kate stood up.

Heath grabbed hold of her wrist.

'Leave him. I cannot be without you.'

'Nor I you,' Kate said. 'But I have made a promise and I cannot just walk out on that promise. Not right now.'

'What about your promise to me?'

'You left me. I can't just…abandon the family who have been good to me.' She paused, 'Please, will you come to dinner tonight? We can talk after Hunt has gone to bed. He knows I think of you … fondly.'

Heath laughed.

'Hunt will do anything, at the moment, to please me.'

'Anything? Why?'

He looked at Kate's face.

Kate blinked and sat down.

'I must have stood up too quickly,' she said.

He studied her more closely, blood rising in her cheeks. He'd seen this look before. A girl he'd hung out with in New York, a waitress who became a friend and worked in one of the clubs where he'd played had been dating a guitarist. After they left the club they got married and she had a child six months later.

Perhaps Heath knew Kate so well he knew before she did. She reached out her hand to him and pulled him close to her. His hearing had become extremely good since he'd turned. It was one of the advantages of becoming immortal. He sunk to his knees and pressed his head into her chest. He could hear conversations through walls so why not babies through skin? The two heartbeats pounded his ear as she slumped into him - Kate's and the heartbeat of her unborn child. He felt sick to his stomach and twice as betrayed as she attempted to take his hand.

'Please, come to dinner at The Grange. I have to see you again and I can't put off the dinner party I promised Annabelle we'd have. She will be thrilled that you are to be the guest of honour.'

He flinched and moved away from Kate as she moved closer.

'Annabelle? Is she still living here?'

'Yes, The Grange is half hers, Heath.'

'Oh,' Heath said, disinterestedly.

'She's finished her Art Course and has her first commission to paint some houses in this borough. She's staying with us for a few months.' Kate added.

Heath backed away from the woman he loved more than himself, with a blank expression. He wasn't ready to give her up.

'I'll be over in the car at about eight,' he said dispassionately. 'After all, Hunt should meet his new neighbour.'

**Chapter Twenty-three**

_**Return**_

The car was sleek and black. Heath loved it above the others. He'd made so much money these last few years, more than he could ever need or want and he was surprised it hadn't made him happy.

'_There is nothing in the world that will make up for a lack of real friends and family,'_ Greta said to him once, when he was a child. He knew it to be true as he slumped into his bath, took his plasma capsules and washed them down with red wine. He'd wolfed down a roasted pheasant when he returned from his meeting with Kate, his mind reeling.

The previous week, Harrison was asleep in a heap at the table when a knock on the door woke him. Most of the staff had left by the time Heath arrived at Hareton Hall. He was surprised he'd left for America without telling his sister about the house.

'What are you doing here?' Harrison slurred, surprised when Heath hovered at the doorstep.

'Come in,' Greta said, 'I was just leaving.'

Heath smiled quietly. Harrison could not prevent his entry now that he'd been formally invited in.

'I gave you six weeks to get out, Harrison. You can either stay on and look after the stables or take your stuff and leave.'

'How dare you? I haven't told my wife or Hinton…'

Unbeknownst to them, Harrison had been gambling in a disreputable part of the West End most evenings. Heath and some of his work colleagues had seen him going from one establishment to another until Heath himself had challenged him to a game of poker where the wager on the house had been set in front of at least a dozen witnesses. Still, Heath reasoned, he hadn't forced him to sign the legal documents. Harrison had done that of his own accord.

'Well, you'd better tell them soon. I just came to drop off some belongings and pick up my suit…'

'You mean my father's?'

'He was my father too.'

'Adopted,' Harrison added slyly.

'Yes, and the only father I have known…a quality you would know nothing about. I have no idea how you could possibly imagine I'd be your…blood relation. Oh, that's right, you knew I wasn't. Thank you for finally ruining our happiness. You never heard such a conversation as you detailed to me in that note…did you?'

'Of course not, mother wanted to leave. She knew father had not had an affair with your mother. It was not his way. He was honourable.'

Heath moved quickly this time. Though Harrison was tough he was amazed at the strength in Heath's hands as he had him in a headlock on the kitchen table. Then he moved closer and Heath (although drunk by midday as usual) swore he saw fangs emerge from the man's mouth and moaned and screamed for mercy as Heath threw him, using all the strength he had to resist savaging him, onto the footpath by the scruff of his neck, like an animal.

When Harrison relayed the story to his psychiatrist days later, the doctor recommended stronger medication.

Harrison had been so shocked, he could barely speak. When he did, it was more of a whisper as Heath detailed the terms of his ownership…

'You'll come to a bad end charity case… even with all your new money.'

Heath threw Harrison's suitcase on the landing outside the door.

'That's just the kind of statement I'd expect from a daylight drunk. You have a wife and a child to support. Maybe you should start thinking about how you're going to do that after going through father's millions. Face it Harrison, this day was always going to come…'

'Am I really supposed to believe that you did all this because you lost Kate?' Harrison bawled.

'I'm serving you notice, Harrison. Either accept my offer to stay on as groom until you find a job, something that goes above and beyond what is legally expected of me - and you, Frances and Hinton can have the cottage - or leave. You have two hours to decide.'

Heath brushed past him as he walked to his car.

Harrison banged his fist on the window as Heath placed the keys in the ignition.

'You really are something, aren't you, Heath Spencer. I did you a favour when I kept you away from Kate, when I insinuated the truth of your dubious heritage.'

'You mean, made it up. Yes, something I'm eternally grateful for. You know nothing about my history, as you put it, but the thought of having you as a blood relation made my stomach turn. I got tested. Kate and I share no biological relation but we have always been of like mind. Perhaps that is stronger than biology. All you did Harrison, was spend enough energy to keep Kate and me apart… for a while, but not forever.'

'She's married to someone else.'

'Not for long. Get your stuff and take it to the guest house. You're lucky Hinton's so young or I'd show no mercy and throw you out on the street.'

Harrison pitched a rock at Heath's car but the alcohol had damaged his balance and it missed, smashing a window of the house instead.

'You nearly hit me,' Heath said, rolling down the window. 'I'll add that to your debts, shall I?'

Harrison slumped to the gravel.

'It's mid-afternoon Harrison,' Heath said. 'Get yourself sobered up.'

'You…you clean yourself up!' Harrison bawled.

Heath heard the older man screaming at him as he drove off in his sleek sports car. Harrison wobbled out of the house with a shot gun that he was too drunk to point in the right direction. Threats hardly bothered Heath. He'd proved himself impervious to bullets. Heath considered feeling bad for Harrison as he drove off, but he couldn't. The years of cruelty Harrison had inflicted on him as a child made pity impossible. Now the captive would become the captor. He did not worry for his own soul or for Kate's anymore. Their fates were linked, he was sure of it.

**Chapter Twenty-four**

_**Dinner Party **_

Heath stayed in Hampstead that night, at the pub he later bought.

I had the dated receipt amongst his letters**.** Harrison had agreed to leave The Hall the next day. He'd delivered a note to Heath at the pub and was taking the family on a trip, with what remained of his assets. They would arrange to have their belongings collected. Heath was officially the owner of Hareton Hall and Harrison had finally woken up sober.

In any case, Heath did not wish to return to his home that night. He'd always liked the old pub overlooking the grounds of Hampstead Heath and had a notion, with his new found wealth, to buy it.

He pulled a Savile Row suit, newly tailored, from the wardrobe. Heath needed to look his best tonight. He showered, combed his hair, drank some Magenta and cleaned his teeth. There were few things that interested him less than fashion but he was determined to make an effort for this dinner party. He felt good to go as he grabbed his room key and walked down the stairs to his car.

Heath arrived at The Grange soon after to find it lit up magnificently. The Georgian house was as fine as Kenwood House but The Grange, being tucked behind a veil of trees, was more secure and not open to the public. It was the palace Heath and Kate had grown up alongside, but Heath thought, with some minor alterations, Hareton Hall would be grander.

The invitation was for a dinner party of sorts. Kate, Hunt, Annabelle and himself were to be the only guests.

Heath was the last to arrive.

Annabelle had spent hours getting ready that night. She wore a long, blue, figure hugging dress that reached to her ankles. To match her sparkling designer heels, she wore an expensive diamond necklace that had been handed down through generations of Hunts.

The round dining room table was set grandly as though they were entertaining a guest of honour rather than an old friend. The chandeliers were on full power and candles were lit in rows on the wall, highlighting the minimalist design. The interiorshad been recently renovated. It was a house that had always haunted Heath and compelled Kate.

When Heath rang the doorbell, expecting the butler or housekeeper to greet him, he was surprised that Kate opened the door herself and invited him in. She stood there, in a red velvet jacket, black jeans and fresh boots. Her hair hung in ringlets down her back and she looked like a girl who'd just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Kate's stomach was flat and there was not a hint of her pregnancy, although she realised she should probably have warned Heath about Katarina, since there were family photographs all over the lounge room.

'Being richer suits you,' Heath said, pushing past her and making his way into the hallway.

Kate looked at Heath and smiled, ignoring his insinuation. The girl greeted him like an old friend, a little too warmly to be a favourite brother and a little too enthusiastically for Hunt's liking.

Edmund Hunt, seated in the drawing room, was finalizing his applications to law school and reading over the notes he'd written. He had been warned by Kate to be civil. His marriage, still in its early days, was fragile. Their child, Katarina, lay sleeping upstairs. Kate had not mentioned her to Heath but her photographs were dotted all over the drawing room. Edmund Hunt, desperate to please his wife, was on his best behaviour. Hunt was aware that of the two of them, he was the one who loved more.

Edmund still couldn't believe Kate had agreed to marry him. He knew banning her from seeing Heath at this point would never work. Trying to convince Kate the man was beneath her would also be hopeless. Kate, although raised with generations of old money, had never really set aside her obsession with Heath. Hunt was aware that his money and class would never be enough to compete with Kate's childhood obsession. In Hunt's view, possession was nine tenths of the law and Kate was his now. Their soon to be born child made him sure of this.

Annabelle had dressed formally for the occasion, Kate noticed. Whilst it had recently been no surprise to see her in jeans and an old, paint-splattered shirt, her sister-in-law was dressed to kill. Belle had also spent the afternoon at the hairdresser's having her blonde hair foiled and waved in the latest celebrity style.

Kate worried about her, and not for the reasons Annabelle suspected. Jealousy was not an emotion Kate felt easily and certainly not in the direction of Annabelle. But she suspected, or really had always known that Annabelle remained infatuated with Heath. His contempt for all her sister-in-law stood for (inherited wealth, class distinction, the divide between him and Kate) would run deeper and extend to contempt for Annabelle.

Heath's pallor seemed tanned; his clothes were tailored and expensive. Annabelle had done some research and informed Kate that he owned companies all over town. Kate had barely listened. She was unimpressed by the way Heath had brought Harrison low, even though she knew how much Harrison deserved it.

Heath was dressed in a formal suit under a pure cashmere overcoat. Only Kate knew the scarf he wore was her own. To Annabelle, who was sitting in the bay window seat - the same place Kate had sat in when she was recovering after the skiing incident, waiting or rather pining for Heath - this would not register.

Heath thought Kate looked like a movie star as he hovered in the hall. He tried to ignore her as he casually glanced at the photographs on the walls. Annabelle shone in the background, but he paid her scant attention in that moment. When his eyes had finished glancing at Kate's infant daughter (she looked to be about one in the photograph), Heath glanced back at Kate, then Annabelle.

Kate withdrew to the kitchen as Annabelle raced up to Heath, enthusiastically. Heath stood formally in the hallway.

'Hello Annabelle.'

'Hello Heath,' Annabelle replied happily. 'May I take your coat?'

Normally, the butler would have done this, but Annabelle had been quick to the mark after Greta wished them all good night and given the staff the night off. Annabelle took Heath's scarf and placed it on the hall table not far from Katarina's baby picture which Heath appeared not to notice.

When Annabelle reached over to take Heath's coat, he turned around quicker than she anticipated. To her surprise and delight, just as she was going to greet him with the customary European air kiss on both cheeks, he kissed her on the mouth instead. Heath showed no expression as Annabelle blushed again and stumbled to the coat rack feeling as light as air.

The visitor smiled warmly. 'You are looking lovely tonight, Annabelle,' he said. Annabelle was excited to hear her name spoken in his velvet voice. 'It's been too long. I haven't seen you in years,' he added.

Annabelle smiled shyly and blushed at the warm greeting and unexpected compliment she had received.

'We thought you had forgotten us,' Annabelle said, pretending to be slightly put out as they walked through to the drawing room.

'Not exactly, I work in finance now. My work took me… to America.'

'I read about you in the paper today: financial wiz kid and all that. They posted a lot of details in the article. Apparently you are the most sought after bachelor in England. You should have stayed in touch,' Annabelle beamed.

'Well, the important thing is I'm back in touch now,' he said, staring directly into her eyes.

Annabelle continued, 'and then I read all about how much money you donate to charity…'

'For tax purposes,' Heath added modestly.

Annabelle ignored his response and whispered, 'I always knew you were a good person, Heath.'

Heath rolled his eyes when no one was looking and loosened his tie. His mouth watered when he smelled the steaks sizzling in the kitchen. Kate, dressed in an old-fashioned apron and playing chef, began to worry that trusting Heath to be civil tonight was a mistake. However, concerned she might lose contact with him altogether and unable to face the thought, she had hastily taken the risk to combine the three people now closest to her in the same room.

'I'm sorry not to have kept in touch, Annabelle. I suppose…real life gets in the way,' Heath added, changing the subject as Annabelle handed him a glass of red wine.

Hunt stood up when Heath entered the room as Kate re-introduced the men. They shook hands and talked about the stock market as Heath's gaze wandered, drinking in the family portraits.

During dinner, where Heath was most amiable to Hunt and Kate, it was as if the seductive kiss between him and Annabelle had never happened.

The first course was heating on the stove. Greta had left all the instructions as she departed but Kate kept getting up to check on everything. The table had been set perfectly and Heath recognised Greta's hand in all of the decorations. He knew Kate must have wanted the night to be perfect for some reason. Perhaps she somehow expected his re-introduction to the family would be a happy occasion.

Kate, who had been finalizing the sketches for Annabelle's play, had little to do with the domestic running of the house. She had been avidly researching the best food to serve at dinner parties…and the recipe for Heath's favourite dish of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

Heath walked into the kitchen, leaving brother and sister alone to chat after demolishing the first course of lobster soup. Heath offered to bring the plates and stack them in the sink. It was the first time he'd ever done menial work in a kitchen since Greta had allowed him to wipe the dishes as a six-year-old. He'd done it so badly she never asked him again. He disliked kitchen tasks but for tonight, he'd made an exception. He knew women actually liked men who pretended to be domesticated and he was keen to impress Annabelle. Heath found it funny because he thought Kate would have to be out of her mind to really be fooled by his act, but she played along.

Kate smiled, 'This is all going remarkably well, considering.'

'I'm not sure what you mean,' Heath said.

Kate leaned in and whispered, 'considering you hate my husband.'

Heath looked into her eyes, 'I don't hate him. The thought of him barely enters my mind. By the way, I saw the family portrait. How old is your daughter?'

'Katarina is just a toddler.'

'Don't you think I should meet her?'

'Not tonight. She's asleep.'

Heath shrugged. Kate sighed disbelievingly as she took the dinner plates from the top shelf above the stove. Heath looked on impatiently studying Kate's perfect curves as she retrieved various forks and spoons. The desire to plunge his retracted fangs into her neck, the curve in her arm, the crease behind her knee - demolish her altogether - was more intense than ever.

'Anything else I can do?' Heath asked standing close to her. 'I have to say, I thought Hunt would have more…staff.'

'Don't be stupid, Heath. Greta only comes in because I begged her not to leave me. Most of the servants quit ages ago. Hardly anyone in London has servants anymore. We barely afford the groom even though Hunt is, as you know, comfortable.'

Heath laughed.

'Is that meant to be a joke? '

Kate sighed. 'Of course I understand how fortunate we are. I volunteer at the local charity now.'

'Listen to you. You sound so…pious.'

'It's more than you've ever done.'

'True, but then I was born a little closer to the poverty line than you were and it's not a place I relished. Anyway, you needn't be so proud of your ability to marry well and your husband's ability to inherit money.'

'You think I married well? I thought you'd abandoned me Heath. What was I supposed to do? You disappeared for three years.' she whispered, wary that Annabelle and Edmund might hear.

'Yes, that was…unfortunate.'

'That's an understatement. If you need to blame someone, you should at least partly blame yourself.'

Heath reached for Kate when he was sure the others were in conversation in the other room. He leant in to her hair as he used to when they were younger and she hugged him, greedily, expectantly, wanting more.

Then, just as he contemplated kissing her perfect lips, he spoke.

'Oh Kate,' Heath shook his head. 'I'm just imagining what a boring little country wife you have become…'

Kate pushed him away.

'Stop it Heath, you're being horrible…'

Heath laughed softly.

'What did you expect when you invited me here?' he whispered.

'Why are we whispering? Never mind…' Kate stacked the pudding dishes. 'I just wanted us to have…'

'What,' he whispered, 'an evening reminiscing? Like the good old days! Did you hide the shot guns? Hunt can barely hide his disdain for having to dine with the help…'

'That's not fair, he's not a snob…he was…thrilled I'd invited you home.'

'I can't believe you're sticking up for him.' She was close to him now. He heard the heart beats and spoke out of turn, accusingly.

'You're pregnant aren't you? That's why you won't leave him,' Heath said as he transported the spoons to the tray.

'Heath…he's…'

'He's what? Your husband…the man you preferred to sleep with over me? The man you…love? Does he know you married him for his money, _because_ of a misunderstanding with me?'

'Now, you're being nasty…' Kate whispered, cautioning him with her intonation.

'Only now?' he replied.

Just then, Annabelle came wandering in, her long skirt floating into the room behind her as if she were part of an intangible mirage or some bizarre circus. She smiled at Heath, unable to contain her thrill at being in the same vicinity as this unknowable, beautiful man. The wind outside the kitchen windows groaned across the grounds of the estate. Winter air that had turned to a deep chill over the last few days warned them of the icy weather and snow soon to follow.

Heath felt the chill then smiled again at Annabelle. 'I don't miss the cold. America is warmer. By the way, I was just telling Kate how lovely you look tonight, Annabelle.'

'Thank you.' Annabelle said, clearly thrilled but obviously surprised to be complimented so publicly.

'I can see this is not going to be simple,' Kate said under her breath as she opened the oven door.

'Let me help you with that,' Heath said, obligingly. 'Kate was never one for the kitchen,' he said to Annabelle, 'and we wouldn't want you lifting anything heavy in your condition.'

Annabelle beamed, 'Isn't it exciting?'

'Very,' Heath said.

'Kate's told you…'

'I guessed,' Heath responded. The sound of the tiny heartbeat drummed in Heath's ears as soon as he was close to Kate. He wanted to savage her and was sated only by a double dose of Magenta before he arrived. Annabelle gazed at Heath warmly. She was thinking what an amiable and successful man he had become.

Hunt, sitting at the dining room table patiently, was closing the half opened window as Kate returned with the gravy boat.

'Darling, I told you we should have kept the staff tonight,' he said, deluded about the rising cost of living.

'It's just friends, Edmund. I didn't want anything to be formal.'

Now it was Edmund's turn to roll his eyes.

'I rather think I would have sooner entertained a rapper or a recently paroled dealer…'

'Shh…' Kate said. 'Heath is a guest… he's family.'

'He's not _my_ family,' Hunt said as Heath entered the room. It wasn't his style to pretend not to hear, to play the upper class games Kate's family were raised playing, but for tonight he would make an exception. All would continue along smoothly, for the moment.

They talked of old school acquaintances and the stock market. Edmund, steadied by Katherine, had been warned not to discuss the missing years of their lives.

Hunt boasted of Kate's brief but shining design of the classic play being talked about in the London theatre world and congratulated Heath on his obvious business successes.

'Yes,' Heath said, 'and, I'm sure Kate has told you, I'm…as of three minutes ago… the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

Hunt raised his eyebrows and looked shocked. Then he looked directly at Kate.

'Darling, you never told me this.'

Kate looked surprised. 'I only just found out…'

'Harrison lost it in a bet…and now, it's mine…' Heath added as Annabelle scooped raspberry coulis over her ice-cream. Not entirely oblivious to the family drama, she looked up wide-eyed. It was exciting that Heath was to be their newest neighbour. She would get to see him regularly. And now that Kate was married, her sister-in-law couldn't resent their friendship. Annabelle smiled warmly at Heath over her pudding. Heath looked at the raspberry sauce and imagined drinking her blood.

'But I thought… Oh, I still have a few of the pictures I was commissioned to make, left to do…of the Hall…'

'And you shall,' Heath added jubilantly.

Kate looked up, 'Would anyone like coffee?' she asked, trying to change the subject.

'Yes, please,' Heath said. 'I find myself absolutely starving for pudding, and I never eat sweets. That must have been the finest meal you've ever cooked tonight, Kate. What an excellent little wife you've made…the second time around,' he said condescendingly.

Hunt stared at him. 'We didn't ask you here to insult us,' he said.

'Mmm,' Heath replied, 'well, you didn't ask me here at all, did you?'

'Heath,' Kate cautioned.

'No, it must be said, out with it. Kate's _my_ wife now, not yours.'

Heath just looked at him and laughed.

'Yes, well, I can see by the light on her wedding ring - nearly knocked me out when we ran into each other riding yesterday. Oh, that's right. You weren't wearing one, were you?' Heath said sarcastically.

Kate shook her head.

'Let's all go into the drawing room and have a drink,' Annabelle suggested.

'Actually,' Heath announced as he stood up, 'I find I'm tired after all my…acquisitions today.' He looked straight at Kate, then at Annabelle.

'I trust you know you will be welcome at Hareton Hall anytime, Annabelle, to finish your paintings and photographs. The same goes for my new neighbours. Perhaps we could go riding again soon Kate.'

Kate looked up. In the still and without distractions, he could read her mind, _'Don't…'_ she thought, _'don't tell him…that I love you more…even after the fact that you've succeeded in making a fool out of me tonight…'_

Hunt looked at Kate, surprised she had already been socializing with this man who he had feared, it must be said, admired yes, and as a school boy, hated… Though now, he felt a slight twinge of pity for the person who was so evidently in love with what was his.

Later that night, Kate lay awake, reading one of her favourite novels, _Jane Eyre_. She read about the delusional woman in the attic, the first wife and wondered how much of the crazy it took to send a woman mad. Her husband had tossed and turned after Heath left but he had no inkling of the power Heath had over her, of how torn she now was. Underneath, she longed to be only with Heath.

That was how little Edmund understood her.

And who knew? Maybe it was a marriage of convenience, just as Heath had insinuated. Their partnership was a merge of her finances and Edmund's property. But what choice did she have back then?

Kate lay awake for hours in the dark, thinking about Annabelle's loving glances towards Heath at the dinner table. It would be a lie to say, as she tossed and turned all night, she didn't have any inkling what Heath might do next.

**Chapter Twenty-five**

_**Scholarship - Present Day**_

Slowly, Katarina and Hinton became friends.

WhenKatarina arrived at Hareton Hall at nine in the morning to help Hinton revise his written applications for the Art prize, she felt a pool of excitement in the pit of her stomach. She could hardly wait to see him again. Hinton had confided in her that he thought his written skills were lacking and Katarina had offered to help him present, "the best possible version of himself", as she put it. He had readily accepted and together they made a first draft.

The Hall, once the grandest of houses, had creeping plants growing from its foundations now, as if it were slowly crumbling from the inside. Over the past few months, the wiring needed fixing, the swimming pool had grown thick with leaves, the tennis court was left untended and the stables were nearly empty. The owner had become more and more reclusive.

Hinton didn't want to tell her why he'd felt a desire stronger than any natural one to drink blood. It was a one in ten thousand possibility, according to Heath's specialist, but somehow his condition matched that of his adopted parent. A trace had been done and it seemed somehow Hinton and Heath shared the same affliction.

Their lineage, a distant, improbable vampire link, was not all they had in common. Hinton and Heath shared a desire to feed, a fear of the sunlight and their own fading images in mirrors. Heath's was now an outline and soon there would be nothing. Today, Hinton's image in the hallway mirror had dulled considerably. Instead of a medallion, Hinton wore a signet ring that Heath had given him when he was small, to protect him from the sun. Hinton resolved not to focus on the negatives of his condition.

The winner of the scholarship was due to receive an apartment and a small stipend abroad. Prague would be darker and rainier than many places and Hinton quite liked the idea of that kind of weather, for obvious reasons. He wanted to get away. Still, only one person from the whole college would be chosen on the strength of their exhibit.

Katarina had insisted on taking him in her new car for lunch in Hampstead High Street. Her father had bought the car for her as a bribe for choosing to study in London instead of travelling far from home. Previously, the thought of Katarina leaving him was something her loving father had found nearly impossible to bear. Katarina, having recently turned eighteen, was experiencing a freedom she had longed for after passing her driving test. The girl was yet to tell her father that she had become friendly with Heath, Linus and Hinton. That was an "off limits" conversation.

It was a beautiful day, rare and summery, like the ones her father had told her about when she was first born. In those days, when she was a child, she vaguely remembered her young mother taking her to Hampstead Heath for picnics. Her studious father would hold her hand, walk her across the road and teach her to ride. When she was old enough she rode park trails on her pony and later, her horse. By the time she was a teenager, she'd become an expert, riding properly in various events on Hero's Daughter.

When Katarina asked about her mother's family, all her father told her was that he'd never been fond of Heath as a child. He grew up with nannies and in boarding schools as men of his class and in his generation did but repeatedly told Katarina he loved her - something his own family had never said to him. Katarina knew this was true and that he meant well. He had tried not to burden her with this now adult concept of his quiet, contained, isolated youth but one day he told his daughter something that surprised her.

'I never saw my parents show any affection to one another,' he told Katarina when they were out riding together.

'Something of an overshare, Papa,' she'd replied.

Katarina realised how different her upbringing had been from her father's.

How strange and quiet the heath had become in winter, her father thought, when he first bundled this little girl up and took her for long walks to Kenwood House. As she grew older, and had her own nanny, the family would often go for picnics in the grounds of the heath. Though the gardens of their own house were magnificent, Hunt wanted Katarina to have the normal childhood that had eluded him, or as normal as it was possible for her to have, so he took her exploring.

Being in his daughter's company pleased Edmund Hunt endlessly. He remembered so many dinners with his own father, separated by an expanse of dining room table. He was never allowed to chatter during meals. He determined to raise Katarina differently. Together they played a game called… _What if? _From the time Katarina could talk she was encouraged to ask questions: '_What if the world was coloured pink? What if the grass was blue? What if Mummy hadn't left?'_ This question ended the game. There were some questions Hunt wouldn't answer.

As she grew older he worried for her and for himself. His daughter was sweet-natured and generous. She had gifted him further understanding of the world beyond his front door. Katarina made Hunt see life for what it was, rather than in isolation and in relation to his needs and those of his family. He knew he loved her so much he would never be able to say "no" to her and dreaded the day she would ask him for something he could not or did not wish to give her.

Like the truth.

The morning Katarina and Hinton decided to drive over to Hampstead High Street, the place, busy with post-Christmas bargain hunters, was busy. Together they sat in the French patisserie and ordered coffee, sandwiches and sweet cakes. Hinton barely ate in her presence and when he did, he picked the chicken off his plate and chewed that first.

'Do you know why our families don't speak?' Katarina asked as she stirred sugar into her latte.

'Age old feud,' Hinton said. 'I think Linus knows the whole story. I only know my version of it. I'm sure your father would have a different account of what happened.'

'He wouldn't be happy if he knew we were all in contact, that's for sure. But I'm so glad you and Linus and I are friends.'

'Is that what we are?' Hinton looked at her quickly, wondering for a moment if she would say something more.

In response, Katarina looked into his eyes as Hinton took her hand. His fingers were pleasantly cool.

'I want to…thank you for helping me so much.'

Hinton slipped a tiny packet in the saucer of her tea cup. The envelope contained a delicate, gold bracelet with the initials KH carved on the inside. It must have cost Hinton at least a month of the wages he'd earned, working at the pub.

Katarina smiled as Hinton helped her to fasten the clasp around her wrist.

'Thank you,' she said, finishing her toast. Then she did something that surprised him. Katarina leant over and kissed him with her honey lips.

Hinton's face flushed red. He wasn't really sure what to say next. He'd dated girls, lots of them, but he'd never felt for anyone the way he felt for Katarina. He shyly took her hand and kissed it.

They had been reading together every day. Heath still got the odd word the wrong way round, but had improved considerably. He was sure the extra study he did with the tutor he'd hired (encouraged by Katarina) had gone a long way to making words much easier for him to read. His world had opened up and he was less afraid of what the future held when she was near. He didn't want to let go of her fingers.

'Over these months …you helped me to have some confidence, not just in reading, but in…myself.'

Katarina was speechless. She had looked forward to every moment she spent with Hinton walking through Hampstead and working together in the studio in Soho. He dreaded what he had to tell her so instead he passed her some documents.

'You need to read something,' Hinton said, 'before you decide if you want to…be my girlfriend…'

Katarina smiled, it was the first time he'd used that word. Then she frowned, what possible barrier stood in the way of this, her first real romance?

Hinton passed her his medical records.

'You need to be aware,' he said, 'that I'm not…normal.'

Katarina looked at him quizzically, unsure of the correct response. Hinton got up and left the coffee shop as Katarina opened the cover of the first folder marked: **Type A Requirements**.

Later that day, Hinton was in the college studio, quietly painting. He had a small supply of Magenta that he kept in the student common room kitchen in a flask. He quietly sucked on lunch through a straw. Since he'd turned twenty-one his desire for human blood had been overwhelming but this daily treat of Magenta kept it at bay. Vampiricism was another reason he and his uncle both liked and loathed each other.

Heath had been the first to identify him as a fellow bloodsucker. Hinton had been so full of self-loathing he was almost glad Harrison and Franny had never lived to see him develop from hybrid to vampire. Harrison had drunk himself to death in his early thirties and his wife, Frances, had been killed in a nightclub in Paris at the age of twenty-six. That's how Hinton wound up with Heath. It was discovered Heath and Frances (remarkably) shared a supernatural gene. Although Heath had not been biologically related to Harrison or Kate, he was a very distant cousin (two hundred years removed) to Frances and Hinton.

Hinton didn't share Heath's passion for chicken but he gnawed on a cooked chop that had been specially marinated, pan fried and wrapped in foil. He'd left Katarina with the open folder on her desk and didn't want to think about what her reaction might be.

Hinton painted freely. He was sure with brush strokes in a way that he had never been with words. He disliked any form of authority but was aware of his need to improve his basic reading skills. He was embarrassed to be this age, to be this bright (he had no trouble comprehending the world and had a photographic memory for numbers and people's names…), yet to still be such a terrible reader was confronting. He'd long ago accepted his daily need for blood but he was ashamed of his lack of education. He'd stuttered as a child and somehow he'd overcome this affliction in his teens. If Katarina believed in him, he felt sure, with her help, he could overcome his wicked desires.

He liked the solitude of the studio, deep in the quiet hub of the empty Art College.

Nobody was here late in the afternoon and there was not a soul to suggest changes to what he was creating. He thought of Katarina and checked the messages on his mobile; nothing. He wondered what she was thinking but didn't want to press her until she had fully digested what the words in that folder meant.

They'd been working on abstract expressionism in class, but for the first time in weeks Hinton's brush seemed to have a mind of its own as he removed the drying artwork from his desk and set to work on a blank canvas attached to a wooden easel.

He sketched the outline from a photograph taken on his mobile but then he relied on the memory of her perfect face. As if writing a first draft, he sketched with abandon, adding the base with great ease and little emphasis on detail. But then, as the hours wore on, and afternoon became evening, he built the intricate shades of colour that became skin on his subject's neck. The textures made him uneasy. Still, with no answer from the girl, his first layer of the image was becoming more complex, like a photograph of Katarina's face. Hinton leaned in and painted two perfect red dots on the paper frail skin above her collar bone. Then he bowed his head in his hands and sighed.

That afternoon, Katarina re-read Hinton's file.

It was less shocking than she'd suspected.

The word 'blood' stood out in all its satin, red stained essence.

The description of Hinton's "type" was unusual but not conclusive. For years now, there had been talk in the press about a rogue species; human-vampires. Born with a weak strain of vampiricism, they developed fully over a period of time and into adulthood. It was different for males and females. The females could linger for up to twenty years in hibernation and it was impossible to tell the difference between hybrids and human beings. Katarina had not taken as much notice as she should have but she remembered these details from a recent article on the web.

She wanted to discover as many facts as she could; she wanted to find out what this strain meant for them and how she could help. Regardless of words on paper, Hinton was still Hinton. Katarina realized this as she read the doctor's dramatic introduction: _he may not sleep at night, he may not wish to eat…it may be possible he lives far beyond the years of normal humans… _The words "immortality", "bloodsucker", "vanished", "feeding", "type A", "hunger", "forever", jumped out at her on the page. Katarina resolved to do some more research that evening.

Upon waking, after Katarina had had a few hours' sleep and the enormity of Hinton's condition had set in, Hinton would be greeted with the message - **it's okay. I love you and that doesn't change. I want to help in any way possible. Meet you tomorrow afternoon Hareton Hall. **

Katarina was determined to finish her Art folio the next day (of a series of photographs of Hareton Hall) using different levels of light. The girl also intended to start reading the files and finish the journals. She knew there was a secret that went beyond Hinton. The hush ran through the family. There had been whispers of a human-hybrid species for years in the media, but no one she ever knew had met an actual vampire; whole or hybrid. They kept to themselves, or maybe they just hid in the shadows.

Hinton, in retrospect, had displayed all the symptoms she'd researched on the web upon waking. His specialist had scrawled in the files… 'The young man has cravings for protein, then citrus, then…animal blood…which may develop upon adulthood as a craving for humans…' Katarina looked away. Further details were in the files that she forced herself to read.

The boy displayed a nocturnal instinct as a child. He'd tried to bite his own mother (at birth) and she had declared him 'impossible' to raise.

It was true. Hinton had gravitated towards Heath as a child. His sister, Frances, had stayed at the Hall briefly until she fled to Paris. Harrison had been discovered trying to beat Hinton with a stick, before he drank himself into oblivion. That part was true; it was like history repeating itself.

Katarina was surprised as she read the social worker's reports sitting in the car. Her desire to help and protect Hinton grew stronger with every sentence.

**Chapter Twenty-six**

_**Secrets**_

When Katarina arrived at The Hall the next afternoon, Heath was out riding and no one answered the door. Since she'd never met her mother as an adult, she relied on the memories of others. In her bag, she kept her fine cashmere scarf, and longed for more information about the woman in the photographs. Katarina knew there were many images of the young Kate in the boxes hidden in the cupboard. The man who had loved her, perhaps as much as her father (if not more), kept these images tucked away, hidden, along with her mother's memory.

Katarina got out of her car. She wore a scarlet coat today and the fierce, biting air made her catch her breath as she walked up to the house. Her dark curls fell in ringlets down her back. The girl took out her mother's old-fashioned film camera. The camera took amazing photographs and she wanted the particular effect film could create. Katarina snapped The Hall in the morning light, from a distance, then close up on the door handle as the gargoyles threatened her.

There was an eerie creak, ever present, when Katarina tiptoed into the house.

Heath suddenly stomped in through the kitchen, taking off his muddy boots in the larder.

'Who's there?' he bawled.

'Just me,' Katarina said softly.

'Oh,' he replied, 'I'd forgotten you were coming. Don't go to the top floor…renovations,' he grumbled, hurrying upstairs to shower and change.

'I just wanted to take your picture…'

'No…' he replied quickly.

He'd always refused to have his photograph taken. It would be a pointless exercise but Katarina was not to know that. She had begun to get used to his mercurial personality and shrugged to herself as she wandered through The Hall. Tucked in a corner, she discovered the Blue Room, which was lit with soft lights, chandeliers hanging from the roof and a hall of mirrors. It was so amazing it had once been featured in architectural magazines.

The girl wandered through the room catching sight of Heath ushering his dog out of the library. As Katarina glanced into the wall of reflections, hers was there but Heath's was missing. Of course, Katarina thought. The strangeness filled her world.

Katarina was nervous, but as she created art by snapping photographs, her nerves disappeared. By mid-morning, it helped that she had not seen a vision of the woman who'd appeared the night of the storm, nor had she heard her. Silence was littered by the sound of paper being ripped and thrown in the rubbish bin once Heath returned from walking the dog. There was a ray of light under the door of Heath's library and Katarina got the feeling he did not wish to be disturbed.

Minutes later, the silence was marked by the loud noise Katarina made, as she unlocked her mother's bedroom with Hinton's key. Inside, the room was all but empty. It was like a danceless ballroom with billowing long curtains in place of skirts and open windows and a wet floor where the rain had swept in, for company. As she stood, breathless, sensing a visitor apart from herself, Katarina heard a chewing sound and a striped boiled sweet wrapper fell from the ceiling onto her hair, like a feather.

Immediately, Katarina looked up; nothing. She noticed the floor around her feet was littered with discarded candy wrappers. They had dropped from the shadows in the roof. Katarina peered closer. In the corner of the large room there was a pile of messy, muddied, riding clothes. The jodhpurs and a jacket appeared to have been recently worn and discarded. As Katarina went to touch the fabric, a bird screeched outside the window. Katarina jumped. She wanted to take a closer look inside the room when she heard a voice behind her and a man took her arm.

'I told you not to go in here,' Heath said.

He was standing to her right, fully dressed for the office.

'Whose clothes?'

Heath led her out of the room.

'Please…just ignore what you see here. Most of it is…old washing. Greta must have left it. I've made us some tea.'

Katarina was so stunned she followed meekly. The interior of the room loomed behind like a secret as they walked downstairs.

Heath seemed oblivious to the anomalies of Hareton Hall. In the kitchen, he was more interested in demolishing the honey soy chicken drumsticks Greta had left sealed in a dish. He ate at least three of these while Katarina stood there, sipping tea, even though it was barely mid-morning.

They observed the view from the parlour of a now famous statue of one of their ancestors (an author or poet, no doubt, Katty thought) that was all but obscured behind a fence. Occasionally, tourists stopped by in summer to take photographs. Sometimes the iron gates would open quicker than they realised and usher those same tourists out of the way. Who knows what these tourists had really seen through the windows.

'I never planned to open the house and grounds up to the public, but with the worldwide financial situation, my advisors convinced me it was the smart thing to do. I want this house to stay in the family…forever,' he added quietly.

Katarina changed the film in her camera as they sat at the table watching day turn to dusk.

'May I?' Katarina took Heath's photograph as he turned to take his car keys from the fruit ball. The crystal bowl was full of peaches and Italian oranges.

'Hinton told me you know our secret. You must have worked it out by now. You can take as many photographs of me as you like. The images won't come out. I have to go to my office, there's something going on at work. Greta is coming around soon. Don't return to the rooms upstairs. They're locked now. Just shut the door when you leave,' Heath said, offering no further explanation. Not fond of idle chit chat, he stood up and walked away.

Katarina was left to ponder her predicament. Then she remembered that Hinton told her he used to scale the wall to his room when he was a child.

Katarina wandered outside. The gardens grew wild. According to her mother's journals, they were once perfectly manicured. Although now unkempt, they appeared lusher than any of her mother's recollections. The wind began to howl as Katarina followed the path from the surrounding grounds of the estate, towards the lap pool (covered in a blanket of leaves) and past the stables. Katarina noticed a few security cameras which unnerved her, but there were no lights on, so she assumed like everything else, they were in a state of disrepair. It was remarkable how useless the cameras would be in tracking the real inhabitants of the estate, Katarina thought, but then she supposed that was not the reason they were installed. At the gates, beyond the stables, Katarina saw her first sign of human life.

There was an elderly groom working with a horse - the other horse remained under cover. Both animals were black and sleek with sweat. It was obvious Heath had not been out riding alone.

'Good Afternoon, Miss. Katarina isn't it?' he mumbled, looking at her quizzically, as if he'd seen a ghost.

'Good Afternoon,' Katarina replied.

'I'm George. I've been working for the Spencers… forever. Greta said you'd be coming. She got held up at her meeting. She collects her grandson from his pre-school on Fridays…'

'Oh,' Katarina said. 'That's okay. The…owner has given me permission to take photographs over there.'

George shook his head as she walked towards the garden. Seconds later, rain started to spit from the sky and Katarina found herself standing near the outside wall that led to the upper floors of the house, contemplating how to climb it.

She'd forgotten it was Friday; she'd promised Linus and Hinton that she'd meet them for dinner tonight. Katarina would have to be quick. She would also try to act as normally as possible with Hinton. They hadn't had a moment alone to talk and Katarina wasn't sure what to say, but she knew she had less and less recollection of her real life outside the family she was beginning to understand. She glanced over her shoulder. George was nowhere to be seen. Quickly, she climbed the wall, using the strength and muscles she'd developed from years of riding. When Katarina reached the window, she lifted the glass easily and crawled through the dusty ledge, landing on her feet inside her mother's old room.

She looked above her, to the roof of the room. It was empty. There was nothing except chandeliers. Then she walked to the hallway and up the stairs. They creaked with every step she took. The girl was compelled to walk higher, to the forbidden floor. Linus had told her where Heath had stashed the keys and she retrieved them from his desk.

When Katarina reached the attic, the door was slightly ajar. The curtains were open and blowing in the wind. Rain splayed the sill. The door did not creak when she pushed it further. The rain stopped; birds sang. Outside, a rainbow appeared. She stood silent as the door quietly closed behind her, untouched.

It was quieter and lighter up here than she imagined. There were no cobwebs. In the corner lay another pile of girls' clothes, used and unused, thrown into a washing basket. At the top of the pile lay the same bunch of riding clothes, recently worn. There were boots with fresh mud on them discarded in the corner of the room.

Kate looked at the carpet; no footprints. Then she looked at the window sill. Mud dripped upon it. An exaltation of larks outside the window announced her intrusion.

The fine hairs on Katarina's arms stood up. When she tried to take a photograph through the closed window, the black covering in her camera froze. The birds hushed and through the silence, Katarina heard only the softness of her breathing and her beating heart. She sighed and leaned into the bar nailed on to the attic wall. It occurred to her then that the whole room had been converted into some kind of ballet studio. There were floor length mirrors along one entire wall. The roof of Hareton Hall loomed above her like one of the great baroque ceilings she'd seen in Italy on a school trip. Only the outside scenery, the wrought iron gate, fragile in the mist, placed her at Hareton Hall as opposed to some kind of Netherworld.

Just then, a bird flew in through the window, startling Katarina who crouched onto the floor. A scream rang out before she realized it was hers. When Katarina stopped screaming, the sound of another breath took over.

Slowly, slowly, Katarina raised her head until she looked directly above her. Hovering in the roof beams was a young woman. Sleeping, eyes closed, hair matted across her eyes, her face was obscured. She was curled up in pink cotton pyjamas and seemed no older than twenty-one although it was difficult to tell in the dark. The tiny hint of a corner cobweb touched the edge of her hair. Her arms were folded across her chest. She was cocooned in a pink, mohair blanket.

Katarina's scream woke her and the hybrid girl somersaulted down from the rafters. In a split second she back flipped off the high beam and landed on her feet. The young woman, a mirror image of Katarina, opened her eyes where she landed. Then she stood and drank in Katarina's face as if she could hardly believe the vision was real. With the threat of tears in her eyes, the beautiful hybrid uncrossed her arms and reached out her hand. She walked towards Katarina with an open palm. In the same moment, her image disappeared into shadows, leaving nothing but air.

The objects in the attic - an antique hairbrush, some ballet shoes in a basket, a used pink towel with cream lace edging, more wrappers of lollipops and sweets - also disappeared in that moment. The only thing Katarina had left was a memory. She stood frozen. Katarina felt sure no one would believe her if she told them what she saw. The girl's face had been identical to her own.

The teenage girl backed out of the room then turned and ran down the stairs, two at a time. Her camera strap was still wrapped around her wrist and she heard the snap in sunlight as the film started automatically, winding again.

George, the groundsman, hovered at the front door.

'The master won't be happy about you wandering through the house alone.'

'He gave me permission to take photographs,' Katarina sniffed. 'Besides, he's not my master!' Katarina added. 'Nor yours. Do you… Do you know what… _who_ is in this house?

George raised his eyes and pulled some leaves out of the rake he held.

'Yes.' He spoke in a thick, Northern accent. Katarina could still hear the high, sweet voice of a Lark, singing in the rafters.

'Did you hear that?' Katarina asked aloud.

He nodded. 'There's been talk of… bloodsuckers here for years. Some like to refer to them as ghosts…makes people feel better I suppose. It's because they're up all night,' he added. The pretty tune stopped and all that remained was the noise of George's rake, as if he'd already forgotten what he said.

Reality seemed to elude all who visited The Hall, except her. Katarina felt sure the secrets held the key to the mystery of her family. The vampire girl in the roof was similar to her and to…her mother. Katarina needed answers.

George simply stared into the distance.

Katarina waited on the front steps. Greta had texted to apologise and re-schedule. It was all that kept Katarina from running away forever. It was late in the day by then and already the sun was setting.

'They say memory is something that exists in a person's mind forever; we just have to know how to unlock it when we forget something.' George said out of the blue.

'You must have a lot of memories of this place,' Katarina replied.

'Oh yes, Miss. What I have seen… ' he sighed as he walked towards the shed.

**Chapter Twenty-seven**

_**The Girl in The Attic**_

Hinton had a bad feeling. He texted Katarina and they agreed to meet in the Glass House. They could go to dinner at The Grange after they'd had a chance to speak. At least outside was safer and, still needing more external shots of the heath in twilight, Katarina lifted the latch of the iron gate. The entrance to the private garden was the exact place she had read about in her mother's journal.

The gate led to a maze that in turn spilt into an abandoned part of the heath. Katarina wore her walking boots as she rambled in her rolled up jeans, a long coat and scarf draped around her shoulders. As the winter evening closed in on her, Katarina buttoned up her coat and pulled the belt tight around her tiny waist. The young girl walked towards the now private arboretum, largely abandoned in winter and known only to those who lived close by. The directions had been detailed in her mother's journal. Her father had taken her there, only once, as a child.

The wind howled and Katarina's camera tossed and whipped around her wrist. She suddenly wished she'd modernized her instrument. If she'd had a passion for digital, the camera would not be so heavy or so much trouble.

Almost immediately and without warning, the air had turned to pre-snow iciness. Katarina could see her breath and soft flecks of powder fell around her feet. Autumn had been so unpredictable this year. As ice began to spit from the sky, Katarina stumbled inside the shelter.

The glass house, located behind a woodland meadow, had been restored in recent years. It was so beautiful that she resolved to take Hinton here. When Katarina thought of Hinton, she smiled. Their tutoring sessions had started playfully enough but then Hinton seemed to improve exponentially. She was certain his initial unfriendliness towards her had been related to his secrets and not his arrogance. It was a wonder Hinton was the person he was, when she considered how many challenges he had had - the loss of his parents, the discovery of his rare needs. She was proud of him. Hinton had the courage to seek acceptance however weird and bizarre his lineage.

Somehow, everything would work out. There was a quote from a Shakespearean sonnet she had read at school that came to mind: _Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds… O no! It is an ever-fixed mark / That looks on tempests and is never shaken…_

The deep thrill she felt inside at the merest thought of seeing him again was unlike anything she had experienced. She wondered if he felt the same and hoped that he did.

Katarina knew for certain that her father would not be happy about her connection to the Spencers, and would never have encouraged their meeting in the first place. In just a few weeks, the course of her life had altered completely. Katarina felt sure of her decision to support Hinton as she sat in the garden seat waiting for him.

Her breath was visible on the glass now. It was heating up as Katarina waited patiently for Hinton who had just texted her to say he was on his way. She unwound her scarf, took off her woollen snood and pulled off her gloves. As she did so, she dropped one of them on the ground and reached to pick it up.

Hadn't Linus, taking into account his stupid theatrical superstitions, once told her, that, "in the theatre a lady should never retrieve her own glove. Instead, she should wait for another to pick it up for her." Katarina, knowing how silly this seemed, reached down for the glove but couldn't find it in the shadows.

Finally, hunched under the chair and looking for the glove, she was confronted with the words of ancient lovers - or they seemed ancient to her.

At the base of the tree, behind the arboretum chair were the words HEATH & KATE 1988 carved into the growing wood. Like a child, Kate wound her fingers over the engraving, forgetting all about her missing glove in the process. An onlooker might have thought the glove had simply disappeared or been taken by a ghost. Outside, the wind drove a branch into the glass wall which frightened Katarina and made her turn around suddenly to see a grown man in a long coat, standing, illuminated by lightening in the darkness.

'Hinton can't come,' Heath said.

Katarina looked up so quickly she slipped and Heath moved and caught her by the arm.

'I came home from the city to collect a file I left. George said you'd be here.'

'I…I was just…'

'Tutoring Hinton? Yes, he told me. He's certainly improving. Well, anything would be an improvement. That boy's spelling is atrocious and no tutor I've paid has ever done anything for him.' Heath seemed annoyed. 'George told me you've been…inside the attic, taking photographs. Good luck, the images won't develop.'

It was time for a little bit of honesty, Katarina thought, as they both walked outside to her Uncle's sleek, waiting car.

'Never mind, there is honour in the attempt,' Katarina said. Heath walked quickly and Katarina asked directly, 'Who is the girl in the attic?'

Heath paused for a moment and then responded. 'She is a hybrid, a human transitioning into a vampire who has lived at Hareton Hall longer than me. There were complications with her transition. It has taken longer than expected. You must know there is strangeness in this… family'

'Yes. So I've gathered. I've been told some things about Hinton. But, I'm not just his tutor. I'm his friend. And it's pretty obvious Hareton Hall is haunted.'

Heath smiled at the use of her old fashioned word.

'The house has always attracted comment,' was all he added.

The sleek Jaguar was waiting on the other side of the park and they seemed to reach the car in double quick time as Heath hurried Katarina along.

'Get in,' Heath said as he reversed the car. 'Listen to me. Hinton is a player. He doesn't have friends who are girls.'

Katarina looked at him sharply. 'Well, he does now.'

There was silence for a moment as Heath digested this.

Katarina changed the subject. 'Is that why I can't see your breath?'

Heath was lost for words for the first time as they drove through the winding road towards her house. He did not answer her question directly. 'Now, there's a bit more of your mother in you,' he responded. 'You can't see my breath… because it's not cold enough.'

'You could see mine. Why is there a… girl in the attic?'

Katarina looked down, jealous that he knew so much more about the cocooned hybrid than she did.

'What do you mean?'

'She looked like me, sleeping on the ledge, and I look like my mother.'

'Katarina… you're imagining things. I can take you there now and the attic will be empty. Yes, it has been said the girl haunts the house but you have to forget this. It will bring you no comfort. You can never touch her or speak to her… or even see her properly. I know Linus took you to one of his wild parties. I can only imagine what they get up to there. You're not…on anything are you? I mean anything that might make you hallucinate.'

'No,' Katarina said quickly.

'Ah… there's the fire.'

'What do you mean?'

'The fire that your mother had in her personality.'

Katarina cringed. 'Is that why you liked her?'

'I, I suppose so,' Heath said.

'Are you going to tell me the truth?'

'I'm going to try, but not now.' he responded.

'When?'

'Soon. In the meantime, read your mother's journal. I know you have it.'

Katarina glanced at Heath incredulously.

The man didn't want to talk any more tonight. This girl was half his age, far too young to understand the depth of his feelings for her mother. He was in no mood for explaining the supernatural. Not now. He was tired; a long day trading stocks and shares will do that to a man.

He was also concerned that the cousins were getting close. It wasn't meant to happen like this, so far out of his control. His son had been given instructions to befriend then dump her, and it wasn't really going to plan now that Hinton had taken it further and just left it at "befriend her". Didn't he realise how much Heath hated her father? How little they owed the Hunts? It was time to end this stupid game.

Heath pulled up suddenly.

'Where are we going?' Katarina asked.

'To The Grange, your father is expecting you. I called him. The dinner date has been cancelled. Hinton and Linus sent me to tell you. Neither of them could get away from having to work late.'

They drove in silence, the short way, before arriving at the gravel driveway of The Grange.

'Would you like to come inside?' Katarina offered. 'It's very warm and cosy compared to The Hall.'

Heath contemplated her offer for a moment. 'I suppose you would think that. But I went to dinner at The Grange once and the atmosphere just about froze ice.'

Katarina looked startled.

'The snow seems to have settled, go on then. You're safe to walk up the path. I'll stay here until you've gone inside.'

Katarina slammed the door loudly as she got out of Heath's car.

Heath was quite annoyed at himself. This young girl was making him less brash, kinder. It didn't suit him at all, and she'd discovered Kate's hiding place and the glass house, which was irritating. How long before she discovered even more secrets?

Once again, Heath didn't like the thought of her becoming too close, though it was his desire that she and Hinton… well, ultimately he wanted The Grange and it hadn't been on the market, ever. Katarina was heir. It was important his plan proceed. Heath was glad she hadn't acknowledged the tree markings he and Kate had carved on that bitterly cold afternoon. It was so long ago now. The girl must have seen them. He longed for a return to those days, for Kate to come back to him. He had waited so long to unlock the past.

In the distance, The Grange reminded him of Annabelle.

**Chapter Twenty-eight **

_**Annabelle **_

The day after the infamous Grange dinner party, Heath decided to ring Annabelle. He asked her to come to dinner with him. Bored with the usual pattern: work, money, a feeding frenzy sated by the local blood bank - he needed a distraction. He'd been denying his true nature for too long, but there was very little alternative in polite society. Besides, Kate had moved on.

He would do the same.

That evening, Annabel arrived at his office in her work clothes. She'd been promoted at the gallery to Publicity Officer and her expensive blue suit shimmered under the lights as Heath gave her a tour of the new company premises. Afterwards, they went to dinner. Every night the following week, they did the same.

Sometimes they met up in Soho near the gallery where Annabelle was working with a more experienced Art Historian. She hoped to manage the gallery one day and Heath was surprised at her entrepreneurial vision. Annabelle was delighted by Heath's availability and newly amenable nature. He was like a new person, genuinely complementary of her work in the gallery, the place Kate one day planned to display some of her pictures.

They'd been going out for about six weeks when they met for lunch in a popular restaurant with long glass windows overlooking the Thames. Annabelle had a frown as she scanned the lunch menu. Heath once preferred pubs but his new job came with an expense account that he felt obligated to use. Annabelle was very impressed with this, but barely ordered anything.

'I'll have the soup please,' Annabelle said to the waiter who seemed unsure, as if it was his first day.

'Typical,' Heath thought, as he noticed Annabelle eating like a bird.

After they'd eaten, Annabelle told him about her day and Heath pretended to be interested. He knew he'd have to try a little harder if he wanted to pass the six-week boyfriend stage with Annabelle.

'Heath…did you hear me?'

Miles away, Heath had tuned out and was staring through the window at the panoramic London views. This was not a good sign. He was wondering how he'd dis-entangle himself from the possibility of an actual relationship with this woman whom he'd thought of as a friend - at worst, a plan. Sensing this, Annabelle did something unusual. She shocked him.

'Did you hear me Heath?'

Annabelle burst into tears as she talked.

Heath, sensing her need, couldn't believe his good fortune. Though never very interested in problems of a female nature, he'd have to make an exception in this instance. The words "unexpected pregnancy" gave him a chance to play the hero, no questions asked and also to get back at the woman he loved. The circumstances were too good to resist. He could take the plan further than he'd initially intended.

'I…I don't know what to do,' she gulped as she talked, irritating Heath who was nothing less than riveted by her out of character tale. It shouldn't have surprised him; Annabelle was needy and unpredictable. She'd barely waited for him to pay for dinner the third time they'd dated before she'd arranged his seduction in a hotel room. He knew he'd become a person Kate disliked and he didn't care. Perhaps his recently acquired egotism needed to be kept in check. The truth was he'd planned for days to spend the night with Annabelle. Still, he hadn't encountered anything but enthusiasm from her. Annabelle was almost entirely predictable and her neediness for his love was no less than riveting to a man who, since Kate's betrayal, was almost entirely devoid of emotion.

He knew Kate would think less of him for having almost no feelings for Annabelle yet taking things further with her. Since Kate had abandoned him and married someone else, he felt she had no right to an opinion. He'd been out clubbing and fanging and going home with whomever, since he'd read Kate's marriage notice in the paper years ago.

Now Heath wanted to use and discard anything and everyone he encountered. Most of all, he wanted to make Kate and her family pay for their transgressions, for leaving him alone as a small child, for beating him and, in Kate's case, for choosing someone else. Annabelle had needed little inducement from Heath to re-form a romantic attachment towards him that had never existed on his part. They had spent the night together after just one bottle of wine. Admittedly, she'd done most of the drinking. He had to give her some credit as she stared at him with her big, tearful eyes. The look of love on her face was implacable.

That night was a distant memory to Heath and he'd purposely not phoned her the next day.

After he'd impressed her with the cheap thrill of an exclusive hotel and his undivided attention, that one night with Annabelle had ended in the usual disappointment as he woke up beside her the next day. He did not need reminding that she was not Kate. Annabelle's arm across his chest represented her neediness, not his. Heath had sat on the lounge chair opposite her after he'd dressed, resisting the urge to run off early and leave her lying there alone.

That morning, a plan had begun to form. He'd left a respectable length of time between the first meeting and trying to impress her at Claridges. This was nothing less than Annabelle was used to, given her spoilt upbringing. He smiled inwardly as he realized she and Kate had at least one thing in common.

She was connected to the only woman he'd ever loved and that connection would serve a higher purpose; revenge.

Heath tried not to dislike her as she sat opposite him in the restaurant. She was attractive enough, nothing like her sister-in-law which really should have been a point in Annabelle's favour. Kate, beautiful and goddess-like, was also disloyal - Heath would never forgive her. He found Annabelle emotionally needy and thus high-maintenance and even a little bit boring, but she also held the keys to The Grange, a property he wished to purchase.

Heath was surprised when Annabelle spluttered out in sobs her baby news. He had been careful and made sure he looked empathetic as he sipped his blood orange juice mixed with Magenta.

He'd learnt to control his desires to drain his lovers, especially the ones he liked and his specialist had warned him that there was a chance he could pro-create. If he did, his offspring would only have a small chance of inheriting his hybrid gene. A boy child would have a sixty percent chance of being a fully-fledged bloodsucker. A girl child would carry the gene but likely be human. Heath hoped for a girl. He'd never want a child to suffer the way he had. He had no idea how he would explain himself to Annabelle. He'd tried to tell her about his freakiness, but she refused to listen. When he was tempted to fang, her meek compliance repelled him, and he held back. She still held little appeal. To Heath, Annabelle was bloodless.

All she said was, 'I know you are different. Kate has warned me but I don't care.'

He knew it was his call - either way Annabelle would raise his child.

'Annabelle, stop crying, there is no need for that,' he said softly, feigning sympathy which Annabelle misinterpreted as empathy. (They should have been more careful. They'd been careful, or so he thought). He'd lately started to read the thoughts of people close to him. It was a habit he'd tried to control but as he tuned in to Annabelle all he could hear in her mind was, 'please offer…please do the right thing…'

Heath stared out the window, bored with the woes of human life. This news should have excited him, he was sure of it. Once, the prospect of creating a family would have been grounding, essential. But now, he just stared into the abyss of eternity, the cruelty of outliving those he raised and dared to love in return.

Heath viewed the river and its many bridges, the skyline along the houses of parliament and thought what a wonderful city to behold. The bloodsuckers who'd come before him had told many stories about Edwardian England. Evenings were filled with tales of beautiful women, dark cobbled lanes, ruby carpeted theatre halls and eager street vendors. His ancestors drank brandy seated around log fires during their cold, mansion nights. And here was the chance to add his lineage.

He realized he was in control and wasn't proud of the fact that he'd made Annabelle feel beholden, when all along he'd wanted something beyond what was obvious to her. Marrying Annabelle would make Kate feel what he felt. The situation was meant to be. He looked towards the boats and the line of the shore that carried cargo and supported both ancient buildings and high rises. He wondered how far one of those boats could carry him if he kidnapped Kate and forced her to stay away from her poisonous family and all that was familiar until she was his, and only his, forever more. He thought about the time he'd gone to meet her in the glass house and wished they'd never parted.

He paused before he spoke. In his fantasies, the only source of comfort to him was a reversal of betrayal.

'Here, dry your tears,' he said, handing Annabelle an unused handkerchief.

Annabelle pressed it under her eyes.

'I have a solution. Your child shall have a father, Annabelle. We'll get married. I brought you here today to tell you…well, to ask you to marry me anyway. I'm not suggesting for a minute that this hasn't surprised me, but we needn't let it derail our lives…'

Annabelle looked at him with a surprised expression on her face. She used an old-fashioned phrase, "You could have knocked me over with a feather," when she announced her intentions to Kate later that evening, just as Heath imagined she would. He only wished he could have seen Kate's face when Annabelle told Kate that Heath had asked her to marry him and that she'd said "yes". Kate had guessed Heath was up to something but she also knew there was nothing she could do. She was married to Edmund now, she was having his child.

Over breakfast a week later, Edmund raised the subject of Annabelle with his wife.

'I feel as if I have lost a sister,' Hunt said, as he read the finance news. 'But never mind, she will come to her senses, eventually - and when she does I shall not be so forgiving. I think I shall re-structure the family trusts, make it harder for him to get his hands on her property… '

'Annabelle is pregnant,' Kate said, her hand on her own expanding stomach.

Hunt put down his newspaper, but delivered the calm, rational words Kate had come to expect from him.

'Then I suppose it will be a while before we see her again.'

The wedding was a lavish affair. The impending nuptials were announced in the most conservative broadsheet newspapers and covered in all the glossy magazines. Kate attended, of course, in a pink silk dress, fashionable and ruched at the shoulder. It was a close family affair and Hunt had told Kate she must attend.

Kate couldn't describe how she felt, sitting in the reception as the young couple danced their first dance. They looked amazing together - Annabelle so blonde and pretty like the sun, Heath so dark and handsome, like night.

**Chapter Twenty-nine **

_**Glass House**_

In retrospect, he had tried to show enthusiasm for the marriage.

As they grew apart, Annabelle was unaware they'd never really been together, except as friends and briefly, lovers. If his wife had ever asked, he would have told her everything. Deep down, he knew the truth; Annabelle didn't want to know.

Work was always his excuse.

The office needed him - the businesses. The family fortune required overseeing now that Harrison had drunk himself into despair and lost most of the shares that had remained in his name. Harrison sold the rest to Heath's company for a third of what they were worth. Of this recent business deal, he was not ashamed. He knew Kate, whom he hadn't spoken to for months, would be angry at him for stooping to Harrison's level.

The adoption of Hinton had not brought the family any closer together and Heath made more excuses to stay out of the house. Heath's career was escalating and he was expanding the company overseas, preparing to leave London for Asia for three months.

'I'm asking you not to go,' Annabelle said. 'It's too soon with the baby.'

'Well Annabelle, you knew where this was going when you married me. I can't abandon my career; it's important.'

'For what? You've earned more money than we could ever use and you have mine. You've spent half your life trying to get back at Harrison, now you've succeeded. You own his house, his companies.'

'Co-own. Remember it's mortgaged.'

'The same thing, you will own it. And my brother, you won't even speak to Hunt.'

'It is an understatement to say we didn't get along at school…'

'But we are adults now, Heath; I just want you to forget…'

Annabelle put her hands on her husband's face. Normally her blood did not appeal to him overly, but he hadn't taken his vitamins and was low on plasma. He pushed her hand away, afraid the yearning to feed and munch on the cool blue vein in her wrist would repel her. If only he could share with her his longings, his issues, himself. Perhaps the marriage would have had a chance. But, let's face it, she wasn't Kate. He knew Annabelle would run from him when she discovered the truth. He was sure of it.

Annabelle, for her part, suspected Heath was not normal from the earliest days of their marriage. She thought he might need therapy but he brushed her away when she tried to talk to him about his mood swings, as she called them. He'd always been cold towards her, Annabelle realized in retrospect. She had thought Hinton and the baby would bring them together but after he'd satisfied himself that the foetus would be "normal" (going so far as to take her to a strange specialist in Harley Street when she seemed overly fond of lamb chops), Heath had distanced himself from her once again.

Every person was worthy of love. It seemed to Annabelle that Heath had received more from the marriage than she had. Annabelle only expected her husband to love her, yet he made her feel unworthy. Sometimes he looked at her as if she was air and Belle caught him looking at Kate's old photographs more than once. Annabelle didn't even want to think about her sister-in-law. She was sure it was their love that had wrecked her marriage. On other occasions she realised that Heath was the sort of man who would have found it hard to make any marriage work.

Belle regretted the loss of her only female friend. She missed being close to her sister-in-law. Months earlier, Kate had pleaded with Annabelle not to marry Heath and Annabelle hated to admit Kate was right.

'He only wants to hurt you…he wants to hurt me.'

'How can you say that, Kate? Why do you think you are the only person worthy of love?' Annabelle asked.

'It's not like that,' Kate had replied.

'Not like what?'

'Heath and I…we grew up together…I know him. He's not like other people, he's…different…' Annabelle misunderstood her intentions almost entirely.

'He still loves you…doesn't he?'

'I…I don't think Heath's capable of love anymore…he…uses women and he's not above using you for his own purposes,' Kate had warned her.

'What purposes? He's already got his own money. Yes, our family is wealthy but so is Heath…'

'It's not like that. He wants ownership, power. First it was Harrison, now it's Edmund… once he marries you, he controls you. He wants to hurt me…promised me he'd get me back, for marrying Edmund…'

'Why did you marry my brother, Kate? I've always wondered…'

'Because… I loved him.'

'Because you loved him or because you needed him? Heath wasn't there and my brother was! Well now I need someone Kate and you can't stop me from being with him…'

'I'm trying to warn you… he will make your life very difficult Annabelle.'

Annabelle had packed her suitcase.

'Promise me you'll give me a chance, Kate. Stay away from us until after the baby is born.'

'If that is what you wish, Annabelle, but you are making an enormous mistake. You barely know this person. Heath is not like you. He's strong but angry and he's vengeful. He'll take all of his frustrations out on you…'

'I don't care,' Annabelle raged for the first time in her life. 'I love him.'

Kate was not surprised and she wished her sister-in-law well but suddenly they were like strangers in the same room.

'You know what your words do Kate? They make me more anxious than ever to leave this house…tonight.'

Kate sat on the bed; she knew she had tried to reveal Heath's full nature to Annabelle but it had backfired. In fact, she'd made the situation worse. Kate had just alienated her only female friend.

'I cannot say I'm surprised,' Hunt said later. 'I spent hours trying to talk her out of the marriage last night, but there was nothing to be done.'

Edmund leaned in to kiss his wife on the cheek. Kate pulled away.

'Annabelle is very determined to make this mistake,' Kate said.

One night, after they were married, unable to contain himself as Annabelle kissed him, Heath sunk his fangs into her neck (the taste of her blood was expectedly bitter to him). He knew, even after she'd fled the house, they could never be friends again.

Annabelle, endlessly forgiving, wanted to try but he could never explain his true condition or his sense of unworthiness. There seemed little point, especially after Annabelle had finally lost it and screamed at him for being a freak. The next day, Annabelle fled to Cornwall and the family estate. It was just until the baby was born, or so she'd said.

He didn't blame Annabelle. He was glad, in some ways, to see the back of her. He was becoming exactly what he was born to be, an animal. Soon there would not be a shred of humanity left in him. He littered his wardrobe with discarded packets of plasma and when the maid found the empty packages she screamed. He wasn't proud of who he was or what he'd done but after his wife left, he reconnected with his specialist and had a new elixir designed for him, Magenta Plus. This liquid began to control the variant in his condition.

When Annabelle returned to Hareton Hall, she occupied a separate bedroom. Heath was surprised Annabelle didn't leave him permanently. His wife had reverted to type and wanted to keep up appearances at all costs. Heath could read her thoughts by the time she returned and he knew she would run off once the baby was born, perhaps return to The Grange, but never to him. He thought she would leave again after catching him gorging discarded plasma from a plastic bag after a particularly long day at the office. He'd married her for all the wrong reasons; to get back at Kate and Hunt; to possess her and her property. Who could blame her? He'd respect her more for leaving. Deep down, he should have been more careful, controlled himself more around her. He resolved not to be such a fang freak in the bedroom.

In truth, he was surprised Annabelle had stayed as long as she had. He knew she only tried for the sake of the baby and he wished he could be a better man for her, could love her even, but his heart always belonged to someone else.

After she left, everyone left. Heath stopped taking his medication and began to drink too much elixir again. This resulted in an imbalance in his system and disturbing side-effects. He craved blood…human blood but had learnt how not to kill, how to just take enough, how to control himself. This control came from the part of him that was still fully human.

Heath started to bring home girlfriends, randomly. This was an easy thing to do since he was so good-looking and hugely rich. None of them compared to Kate. Always, Heath was dissatisfied.

Greta was disgusted by his immoral behaviour and resigned, telling him to join a twelve step recovery program and get himself back on track with his medication. She sent his Harley Street specialist for a home visit the day she left and whispered that she would call to check on him in a few days to re-negotiate the details of her employment contract.

During that time, Heath detoxed and was put under careful observation until he finally got himself back on track. He did some soul searching. In truth, none of the Spencers appeared to make good husbands, yet he wasn't a Spencer, not really. He contemplated researching his bloodline but that would take him far from Kate and he didn't want to leave her again. Though they hadn't spoken for weeks, he knew she was close by at The Grange.

It had been six months since he'd seen Kate and Greta had told him news of her pregnancy. After Heath married, he'd sent her running back to her weak and irritating husband. At the time, he was glad to see Kate go. He'd watched her turn and run out of the arboretum that night. He thought she deserved his indifference and was glad to bestow it upon her.

Only he hadn't felt indifferent afterwards.

He could still feel her under his skin. With every breath, he thought of her, couldn't stop dreaming about her. He felt she must be feeling the same. His senses were more acute, even though he'd been denying them.

**Chapter Thirty**

**First Night**

At the Grange, Kate was finalizing new sketches for another play. There was talk of working on designs for the Art direction of a big American film that was being made over summer not far from Hampstead.

Kate wrote all her fears and longings in her journals, something she had enjoyed doing since her earliest memories were recorded. She placed the journals in a space at the back of her wardrobe.

Her own pregnancy gave her some comfort, although she couldn't help but feel somehow the child growing within her was an alien. Occasionally, she went walking across Hampstead Heath holding the tiny hand of Katarina, who had just begun to toddle. Her daughter gave her endless hours of joy.

As she leant down to pull her child's knitted hat over Katarina's lush, dark curls, Kate was struck by her resemblance to Heath. It was impossible for him not to know. Edmund did. He had told her he didn't care; that they should marry anyway and start a family of their own; that Heath had likely been killed or disappeared never to return. They'd been hunting hybrids back then. This was a few years before the Vampire Act had been passed giving hybrids the same rights as humans, theoretically.

Edmund Hunt had been a good, kind, loving husband and father. He doted on little Katarina who adored him. Yet, Kate was haunted by her decision.

Kate longed to go back in time, to the night she and Heath had run away and they had married as teenagers in love in the tiny church in Chelsea. They had spent barely one night together before the note was delivered that had revealed a possible connection, a lie that changed everything.

'To everlasting love,' Heath had toasted her in the tiny pub, 'and my beautiful wife. I love you Kate Spencer and I will love you forever.'

Kate smiled, knowing she felt the same, knowing that in that moment there was nothing she loved more than secret marriages and the man before her. The love of her dreams sat later on their hotel bed, with its new mattress and sheets. Heath's perfect chest revealed his hard body, forbidden beauty and immense yet dangerous perfection. Heath had nuzzled into her wrist as Kate wound her body around his. She was sure he was tempted to bite but he never did. It was almost as if they were the same person. That night, they lay together on the bed, the vial of elixir half-empty.

'It worked,' Kate said. 'And you stayed in control…sort of,' she smiled, rubbing her wrist where the nuzzle of Heath's lips had left a slight red mark. Heath felt human and invincible, sleepy for the first time in years. 'I love you,' Kate said.

They were simple words but Heath had waited a lifetime to hear them.

'There is nothing I can say to that, except, I love you more,' he said, kissing her again. Kate could not believe that was true.

They bathed and dressed for dinner, contemplating their imminent return to the world as husband and wife. Kate was pale at the prospect and began to look less like the honeymooning bride and more like a frightened school girl as she contemplated their departure from the hotel. Heath took his pills and drank some plasma outside on the balcony. Kate remembered the note that contained not a shred of truth. The words had been for Heath's eyes only.

Kate thought about the truth as she gathered wildflowers with Katarina. Harrison had always played hard and fast with his lies. But of course, the letter he'd written was the reason she and Heath had parted; the reason Kate had sought sanctuary on that skiing holiday; the reason she'd had time alone to imagine herself with Edmund. The tests were arranged and were conclusive. Harrison had lied. But the whole process took more than a month and in the meantime, Heath disappeared. She was told he had died, most likely from exposure and lack of blood.

_And there he lives_, Kate thought, as she glanced over at Hareton Hall from the safe distance of the Arboretum.

Inside The Hall, Heath sat listening to his telephone messages on that day.

He hadn't seen Kate's face for a long time. Greta occasionally took Hinton to the park to play with his cousin. Heath didn't know about this. Kate always asked after them.

When Hinton turned three, Harrison fled the Guest house, a crazy drunk. He had mostly left Hinton with Greta once Hinton's desire to bite had become almost uncontrollable. Hinton displayed many of the characteristics that Heath had. A mild form of Magenta sated his thirst. Neither Harrison nor Frances understood the child's condition and were happy when Greta agreed to keep him with her. After Frances disappeared in Paris, Harrison went mad. He drank all day and refused to hold down any kind of work.

Heath stepped in and offered to adopt Hinton along with the house and Harrison couldn't have cared less by then. Although the specialist assured Heath the Spencers were not even a distant genetic relation, Heath knew somehow, he and Frances had once been related. Heath felt closer to Hinton, who ate hungrily in the kitchen. Hinton was blissfully unaware of all that had become of his family. He gravitated towards Heath, a father and fellow bloodsucker. Heath hoped the world Hinton grew up in would be more accepting than the one he'd had to hide in, as he shared a piece of chicken with the child who gnawed hungrily with his first teeth and gave Heath a winning smile.

**Chapter Thirty-one **

_**Revelations**_

Once Kate heard about the trouble in Annabelle's marriage, Kate decided it was time to speak to Heath, alone.

Kate was rugged up in her usual riding gear and had the car keys in her hand, making a rattling noise which woke her sleeping husband. She'd woken up early and told Edmund that she was going for a walk.

'At six in the morning, darling?' he asked sleepily. 'Should you really be going out in your condition? The air is like ice outside.'

'Of course,' Kate said. 'I have the car. I intend to walk the easy path. It's my new regime,' she said, sarcastically. 'Besides, exercise is good for the baby. Now go back to sleep…darling,' she added as an afterthought.

Kate pulled on her overcoat and looked into the mirror. At eighteen, when Kate had married Edmund, she'd felt older than her years. Now she was barely twenty-one and she had never told Heath why she had married Edmund so quickly; never told Heath why the pictures hadn't been splashed all over the papers; why the marriage hadn't been announced. He probably guessed and didn't care. There were so many mistakes that had been made and more than enough time to put them right, even if somebody got hurt in the process. They were meant to be together and that was that. She had telephoned him, asked him to meet her.

When Heath arrived at the glass house, having pulled up in one of his sleek sports cars, Kate knew she had to gauge his behaviour.

She moved to touch him but he pulled away and turned his face. Kate wondered if he had already fed that morning on Magenta or… if his tastes had become more refined and… diverse. Kate would have offered her blood to him there and then if she'd felt it would fix the situation between them and not harm the baby.

'Why did you want to meet me here Kate?' Heath asked in a weary tone. Heath noticed her messed up hair.

'Look at you. You've just got out of Hunt's bed. I never thought I'd see the day…'

'Heath…he's my husband…If it makes you feel any better, we have separate bedrooms.'

Heath's eyes combed her face, her body, her round belly hidden under the coat. Kate must have thought he was really stupid.

'Why do you need to talk to me when you've got him?'

'I needed to see you again.'

Kate touched his hand, and all the emotions were like before. She could not deny this passion and Kate wondered if Heath felt the same.

If he did, he didn't show it.

'I'm asking you not to…hurt Annabelle. She's been a good sister-in-law to me, a good friend to us both.'

'Oh, this is rich, sticking up for the other woman. What do you call this then? I'm sure if she knew we were meeting in secret she'd be thrilled,' Heath added sarcastically. Then he moved towards Kate. At first, it seemed like he was going to kiss her. Instead, he was distracted by the baby's heart beat and placed his hands over his ears.

'Having a baby…makes it impossible for me to leave now. It does not mean I love you less.'

Heath looked at her, 'And you brought me here to tell me that? As if I didn't already know? How could you Kate? You should have waited for me. I just wanted proof that Harrison had lied, and then nothing would have kept me away from you.'

'I…I know,' Kate said, weeping.

He was so angry he moved to shove her, but thought better of it, though she didn't resist his touch or step back. Instead he moved in close, swayed almost as if he was going to kiss her. Kate moved towards him at the same time.

'Now, we meet as equals, Mrs Hunt,' Heath said. 'Now you get to be the jealous one.'

That was the problem. Heath had all but ignored her since the night after the dinner party. The closeness of her, the nearness of her almost touch, was enough to set him off. His mouth watered, his teeth sharpened. Kate stumbled and moved to sit down.

'A fine mess we have made of our lives,' she whispered. She looked at Heath and realized her love for him was like the air that surrounded them, ever-changing but eternal, always. Her love for Heath transcended time and space and even themselves. She couldn't believe it had been so fragile, that she had been foolish enough to believe it would survive betrayal. Now Heath was married to another and gone forever.

Kate moved to stand up but sat down again, quickly.

'Are you alright?' Heath asked, suddenly spooked.

'Yes, I'm…I'm just upset, that is all. Please, Heath, don't go, please come. Put your arms around me one last time. I…I would give up Hunt if only you'd ask me to.'

And it was then, that Heath realized he'd finally gotten to her.

Now was his chance.

'You must be kidding,' Heath said. 'Do you really think I'd want you now? About to give birth to another man's child…'

'I wish it were your child,' Kate said.

'Well, it isn't,' Heath said, 'and I don't want you,' he lied.

Kate withdrew her hand.

'Please don't be like that.'

'It was you, Kate, with all of your stupid airs and graces, the minute you were poisoned by the Hunts, you came to believe yourself one of them, better than the rest of us, better than me with my eternal…curse. I longed for immortality once but only to share it with you.

'Share it with me now…'

'You'd have to be joking. You're not thinking straight in your…condition. You are so selfish you can't even put your child first.'

'Not now…later, after the baby is born.'

'Forget it. No matter how miserable you are, you belong to him now…'

'Never.'

'And I have made another choice…'

'I don't believe you.'

'Oh, I could never lie to you and tell you I love Annabelle. I don't even like her, though I've tried hard enough. But hating you, Kate…is almost as good as loving you and how I have wished for this moment, to see you as you really are…empty and alone but for your selfish choices.'

'It was not selfish, Heath. I couldn't find you.'

'You should have looked harder.'

'I did. But I was lied to…Harrison convinced me you no longer lived.'

'Well, he was wrong and he's always plotted against us. You were foolish to believe him in the first place.' Heath said, the morning's gorge from the blood bank fresh in his veins. He felt empowered. There was strength in such a lack of desire.

'It was your fault too,' Kate said, 'for leaving me, for doubting us.'

Heath remained silent. 'Harrison swore we were…blood relations…'

Kate looked shocked.

'But it is not true. Here,' Heath said, he unfolded a paper from his pocket. 'There is no connection. I also spoke to my…mother. It appears my biological father disappeared one night after drinking… the blood of others. He has not been sighted since. Heath pulled out his original birth certificate, written in Spanish. The date was clear.

'I'm a year older than I thought.'

'Oh Heath, what have we done?'

'If I did wrong, we both did wrong and now you are paying for it. Revenge is sweet.'

'Really? Greta used to say revenge is a dish best served cold.'

'Well, she always had a cliché at the ready.'

Both the lovers were spent in their argument.

'Please…Heath… Don't do anything you will regret.'

'Like what? Like leaving Annabelle? No, Annabelle will go of her own accord just like all the women in this family. I'm surprised it has taken her this long to work out that I only married her to hurt you and get my hands on The Grange.'

'I don't believe that. Annabelle loves you. She won't go anywhere unless you force her to.'

'She's left me once already. You really think you can control all our lives Kate? I despise you for marrying Hunt. I despise you for not believing in me enough to wait.'

'I… never stopped believing in you. I never stopped loving you. I wanted to do what was best for… Katarina.'

'And yet you married another.'

'I was told you'd gone forever!'

'Mmm… a convenient excuse. How could you ever be with another man?' Heath spat.

'Like I said, he's my husband.'

'I was your husband.'

'I know, but we were so young, I thought you'd changed your mind, abandoned me.'

'Stop, stop crying. This is not the Kate I wish to see.'

'It is the one you created. I have never stopped loving you…will never stop loving you Heath,' Kate said as she stood up, 'but I think this argument is going nowhere, Edmund.'

'Ah yes, the wonderful Hunt.'

'Don't be jealous. He has never taken your place.'

'That's exactly what he has done,' Heath laughed bitterly.

'When I first saw you, Heath, I loved you. It is almost as if we are the one soul and that doesn't change, no matter what. After the baby is born I want to be with you, forever.'

Kate stood in the open doorway of the glass house as the wind began to howl and swept up her hair. 'I can see there is no point in continuing to discuss this until then.'

'You sound just like him.'

'And you have become so much worse, swindling Harrison out of his own fortune, marrying my sister-in-law to hurt me.'

'Your brother was a vicious drunk and a liar. He deserved it. Besides, it wasn't a difficult thing to accomplish and Annabelle knew what she was getting herself into.'

'And making his child your own.'

'Hinton needed a home after he was abandoned by his own father.'

'A home? You sent him to boarding school.'

'From where he shall return once he is educated.'

'Educated enough to run wild like you and I did? I could never bear to let my child be that far away from me. And as for Annabelle, I've seen the scars on her wrist where you bit her.'

'She asked me to. She thinks blood sucking is more of a kink and less of a need.'

Kate shook her head. 'I can see we're getting nowhere with this conversation.'

'Everything that went wrong Kate, we did to each other. If you had just waited…if you had just believed in me like you promised you would…we said we'd never abandon one another.'

'You abandoned me.'

'I never stopped loving you.'

'…Until now.'

'You married another.'

'So did you.'

Heath shook his head, 'To make you pay…'

'I must go.'

'Yes,' Heath said, 'your husband must miss you.'

'I see you are determined to stay with Annabelle and ruin all our lives.'

Heath raised an eyebrow angrily, 'She is my wife.'

'Just don't hurt her,' Kate said as she walked away. She did not wish to tell him the full truth about their child tonight. It had been a mistake to call him. Heath was left in the dark once again; his vow of revenge seemed hollow and pointless.

**Chapter Thirty-two**

_**Birth **_

Nights later, Kate woke in the dark. Her stomach grumbled as she listened to the rain lick the roof. It was two in the morning. Hunt was sleeping soundly, as Kate crept silently to the wardrobe and removed her long, winter coat, her woollen hat, scarf and gloves. Instead of slippers she slid on her waterproof boots as she prepared for the winter night after many months of clear weather. Kate could hardly breathe she felt so cooped up. She couldn't explain her need to get out of the house. Her mind was overworked. She was not thinking clearly. Kate wished she had told Heath about Katarina. She woke up, dreaming of Heath and thought if she didn't get a breath of fresh air there was no way she'd have the strength to deliver the child that kicked inside her. She knew Heath had rejected her, yet she was compelled to find him.

Kate grabbed the keys to her car then realized she probably shouldn't drive. Besides, her car was at the garage getting serviced. She knew Edmund's Range Rover would make a loud scraping noise coming out of the gravel driveway. Instead, Kate walked quietly downstairs, found the keys to the house in the kitchen and walked very quietly out the door. It was a good distance from the Grange yet she knew a shortcut across the heath towards Hareton Hall that she hadn't used in months. She needed to see Heath again; she would wait for him - forever, if she had to. Tell him it was a mistake, that they belonged side by side, that she never wished to be parted from him again.

Kate was not prepared for the cold air that slapped her face as she stepped into the night. She wasn't far from the beginning of the trail that led between the two houses and she was sure she could find it. Rain started to spit down and the irrational part of Kate did not think about the stupidity of walking in the dark, alone, in her condition.

The manicured garden formed a pattern - a maze that she remembered from childhood -and led the exact way across the heath towards Hareton Hall. The lone house was filled with secrets and lies. Kate was determined to find Heath, to talk to him about Katarina, to make him understand that she had made a stupid mistake. She knew this track, knew the way by dark and from memory.

Kate peered through the midnight air. She caught her breath for the first time in hours and pulled her overcoat tight around her. Kate knew she shouldn't do it, but she thought, if she could just get a glimpse of her old home, the place she now missed, the only place she really belonged to, everything would be all right. She'd had a bad dream, about herself, about Heath and the baby. She needed to know that Heath was alright, needed to tell him about Katarina and wanted to see him again. It had been almost a week since they'd talked. Kate walked on.

The baby stirred inside her and the rain spat down suddenly but softly from the sky. Kate kept going as crystal tears, like the ones from her childhood, began to roll down her cheeks. She put one foot in front of the other, driven. The wind howled, the night closed in on her. She stumbled and hit her head on the rocks. Kate was as far from The Grange as she was close to The Hall. The pain was unbearable as she screamed into the dark.

Hunt woke, restless in the night.

'Kate,' he called.

He wondered which part of the house his beautiful, thankless wife had roamed off to. He saw that her cream dressing gown lay crumpled on a chair and something about the emptiness of the room, the silence in the hallway, bothered him. Hunt got out of bed, put on his slippers in his ordered way and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

'Kate,' he called again, 'Kate.'

In response, there was howling wind and an open window. He walked over to pull it down and latch it shut as the rain fell and the wind seemed to gather momentum. Then he noticed his keys were missing, which meant his wife had gone out driving (a ridiculous notion given that she could barely fit behind the wheel) or walking in the rain. Hunt was beside himself with worry and looked at the telephone. He knew where she had gone just as surely as if she had told him herself. Although the last thing he wanted was to talk to his sister, he picked up the receiver and dialled Hareton Hall.

Heath never expected a call in the middle of the night so he hadn't bothered to take the telephone off the hook. He couldn't believe someone would bother to ring so he tried to ignore the noise until, restless and unable to sleep himself, he picked up the telephone.

'Yes,' he said, sleepily and irritated. Annabelle was asleep at the other end of the hall but woke when she heard raised voices. Belle wandered into the room, wrapped in a blanket.

Heath had spoken only a few sentences before he handed the phone to Annabelle and left the room. He dragged on his boots, riding britches and a long coat. He'd had barely any time to dress because he knew, as surely as if Hunt had told him, where Kate was.

'Is it Kate? What's wrong?'

'She's gone missing. Your brother said she'd been acting strange. She's been cooped up. He's worried she was coming here and something's happened…here, you talk to him…'

'Shouldn't you ring the police?'

'It will be hours before they do anything, but yes, you do that. I'm going out, I think I know where she might have gone - it will be quicker.'

It was moments later that Annabelle realised Heath had picked all of this information up from one sentence. If Annabelle hadn't known better she would have said her husband was a mind reader. Annabelle looked both put out and worried as she walked over to the telephone.

Heath could read Hunt's mind but he'd also dreamt about her. He dreamt about Kate every night.

In his dream they were running along Hampstead Heath together. They were children, again. It was summer. They were bare footed and laughing as the sun shone. Heath only needed a hat and sunglasses. His dream became a nightmare as the sky darkened and the rain came down and Kate, older, turned to him with rain on her face and said, 'Remember…when I'm missing to look harder. I'll be there… I love you…I'll always love you. When you find me we'll be together…forever.'

Then he must have woken and fallen asleep again and in the next dream he was lying in Kate's old room with all her photographs on the dressing table where she'd left them, trying to sleep but constantly woken up by a tap at the window. Rain poured down and the rattle of her tiny fingers became harder and louder until the glass shattered and a voice, Kate's voice snarled, 'Let me in, let me in!' Her neck was red with blood, her skin white as snow. Venom-filled fangs were bared as she hissed…_I've been away for eighteen years_…'

Heath had woken and gone to touch the small hand of his beloved but just as her icy fingertips moved on the broken glass of the window pane, cut and bloody, she disappeared.

Rain poured down as Heath walked, ran, and then merged speedily through the park. The meadow was becoming an ocean of water and mud.

'Kate! Katherine!' Heath yelled, shining a torch into the mist. 'Katherine!' He merged faster then ran towards the glass house. A bundle of shawl, overcoat, boots and wet hair lay waiting for him, shivering in the shelter. There was a gash on her forehead. Heath walked to her and put his arms around her, holding her in an embrace that locked them together like one person.

'Kate, my darling Kate, what have you done? No one knew where you were. You shouldn't have gone out on a night like tonight…'

Kate looked pale and her face was wet from the rain and cold which was perhaps even worse. He knew he had to normalize her body temperature and although he was getting colder by the day, his coat would warm her. He bundled her up inside it.

'I'm taking you to the car, Kate. I parked it not far from here. I knew where you would be.'

Kate stumbled to her feet as Heath helped her. 'You wouldn't speak to me, Heath. You stopped talking to me…'

'I was desperate. I tried to forget you.'

'I know. We've both made mistakes…'

'I should never have left you. It's all my fault…'

'No, it's mine,' Kate said, half delirious. 'Oh Heath, I came back to you…' She put her arms around his neck. He leant in and whispered, 'I never stopped loving you'. Her voice was fading. Then she curled up in pain and cried. Heath scooped her up and lifted her from the ground. Normally, carrying a heavily pregnant woman would be difficult but Kate was surprisingly light.

'We have to get you home, get you warm,' Heath said.

'I'm…I'm sorry. Forgive me for what I did. I made a mistake, should never have married Hunt…but Katarina…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'I know, you're delirious.' He placed his hand on her brow, worried that her skin was burning. 'None of that matters now…'

'It is…as if we are the same person…I cannot exist without my love…I cannot exist without you…'

'Nor I you,' Heath whispered but it wasn't clear if Kate could hear him. He knew he had to get her to a doctor, quickly.

Heath bundled her into the car and rang emergency.

'Kate, you're not thinking straight. Try to stay awake. We're almost…there,' Heath looked over, and touched her forehead which was still warm but Kate's eyes were closed, she was slumped into the seat belt and her breath was laboured.

**Chapter Thirty-three**

_**Reborn **_

Heath had stayed with Kate in her room and refused to be moved until Hunt barged in and demanded to see his wife. Heath was asked to leave. He reluctantly agreed to wait in the hall after he was assured by the nurses that Kate would live through the night and the child would be safe.

At six in the morning he was told the child had been born and both mother and baby were sleeping. Relieved, Heath sighed. Hunt walked out of the room and said, 'She wanted to see you. They say she will be alright…she's sleeping now. I have a son.'

Afterwards, when he had assured himself Kate was resting peacefully, Heath went home, and fell asleep on the couch as the sun came up. He was wrapped in Kate's old blanket. Greta pulled the drawing room curtains shut, shielding him from the harsh light that made his pale skin sizzle.

Greta woke Heath from a slumber he never thought he'd fall into, almost as if he were drugged from lack of sleep. Greta had her coat wrapped around her. Her face was downcast yet welcoming. Heath's mind was a sea of nothingness. Morning rose like a cloud as the faintest trickle of sun shone through the imminent afternoon storm that would lead to yet another wild night.

Heath rubbed his eyes.

'How is she?'

'The baby, the boy, is well and healthy. They have named him Edmund after his father. Annabelle has gone to help her brother with the baby…'

'I wasn't asking about the child.' Heath said wearily.

'I know you weren't. Kate is weak. She asked to be transferred home, she asked for you.'

Heath pulled on his sweater and drove with Greta back to The Grange. He'd never had any desire to come here again, to the house with perfectly manicured gardens. Heath had always preferred the wild, unkempt beauty of Hareton Hall. The Grange held no secrets, until now.

Hunt was standing at the door.

'Oh,' he said, 'it's you. She's been asking for you, they say there is nothing I can do except let her rest. She lost a lot of blood but she insisted on coming home. There is a medical team with her…'

Heath knew she hadn't meant her home, here, at The Grange. He knew she'd meant her childhood home, Hareton Hall.

In Hunt's arms lay a sleeping baby with fair hair, like Edmund's. Heath brushed past Hunt and the baby and bounded up the stairs, two at a time.

Kate lay on the bed covered in a pale duvet. Her pain was dulled by the drip in her arm. Kate smiled when she saw Heath.

'Oh Heath, you've come back to me,' she whispered as he leant over her.

Kate pulled him into her, his warm, strong body giving her the strength to speak.

'I wanted to see you one last time…'

'Quiet Kate…you need to rest.'

'Plenty of time for that,' she whispered. 'I wanted to say how much…I loved you…love you still and that I have paid for my mistake…'

'Quiet Kate, it is I who has paid also…for loving you…'

'No…no…you don't understand,' Kate leant in close to him '…the baby is your child. I've named her Katarina. Please…please don't take her from Hunt. I know he will be a…good father, but I wanted you to know the truth before I…so you can always keep a close…eye on her… my last wish is for Hunt to raise her Heath…because…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'You're delusional. I know…all that is past.'

Heath tried to hide his anger.

Kate continued, 'I know how…ambitious you are… there would be no place for a child in the world you seek…and because I know it will be hard for you to raise her, reminding you of me. Hunt will love her… as if she is his own.'

Heath pushed his face into Kate's cheek.

'No Kate, you are talking madness. Don't leave me…don't leave us…'

'I can't…stay,' she swallowed. 'I'm so tired…no choice…' A tear dropped down Heath's face and onto her lips, paler than chalk. 'I want you to know, there was no one in this world I loved more than you and I will love you beyond this earth.'

'Don't go…' Heath whispered, 'Fight…'

'I dreamt, when I was under the anaesthetic, when they took the baby…I dreamt that I didn't go to Heaven, Heath…'

'Stop talking this way, Kate.'

'I dreamt that I stayed with you…forever…here at The Hall…'

'You're at The Grange, Kate.'

Kate continued, deliriously. 'I dreamt that I haunted you…and we went to the heath every day and lay in the sun and it didn't hurt us… we rode our horses…and had picnics and…raised Katarina…and it was as it always should have been. I never cared about…my career or travel or any of those things you enjoyed…I only ever wanted to be loved by you…to love…you. We are the same person you and I. We were never meant to be parted.'

'No,' Heath said, 'Kate, Kate,' he whispered '… I love you. I cannot live without you…'

'Then don't…' Kate whispered. 'Turn me…make me like you. I know you can do it…'

Heath held her to him gently, trying to will the life back into her aching, bruised body but her breath was fading. There was blood on the sheets when she coughed. When her breathing stopped the medical staff wrestled Kate from Heath and started administering every possible remedy to her lifeless body until there was nothing further to be done.

Kate, in her breathless whisper, asked everyone to leave; she only wanted Heath.

Later, Heath let out a piercing scream as he stormed past Greta, who held the quiet baby boy, in the drawing room. The infant was unaware of the tragedy and commotion that was the post-script to his birth.

**Chapter Thirty-four**

_**Transition **_

In the dark, Kate had whispered, 'Heath, you have come back to me.'

He lifted his head, contemplating her neck, only for a second.

Kate stirred as he leant in to whisper, 'Don't leave me. I cannot live without you, come back to me, come back to me. I never stopped loving you.'

Heath pulled her arm towards him and rested his head in the crook of her shoulder.

'Nor I you, I just wanted to make you suffer. I'm sorry Kate. Stay with me, don't leave. I cannot be without you…'

'You don't have to,' she whispered. 'If it's not too late, turn me into you, even as a ghost, let me haunt you, drive you mad.'

'Your transition may take decades. Changing you will change me. Neither of us will ever be the same.'

'I don't care.'

He had been warned by Greta that she had only minutes left. It seemed like seconds. The doctors had done all they could.

Heath barely paused before he lifted her towards him, plunging his teeth into her wrist, then her neck. The taste of her blood was honey and nectar to him but his tears were bitter. Without her, he felt nothing. With her by his side, they were invincible. Kate shuddered and closed her eyes.

She did not stir. Moments passed. He could hear the doctors discuss how many more seconds they should be left alone. He'd been inside Kate's room for less than three.

Heath turned and looked at the blackened sky. It reminded him of their shared childhoods. He resolved to take her, drag her out of the window if he had to, but physically, her recovery was quick. Her wounds began to heal, almost immediately, but the venom of a hybrid was not as strong in transition. Heath felt weaker. He wasn't sure this would save her.

Kate opened her eyes, yet her skin remained white, almost translucent. The fever, hot, began to cool. Her fingers responded to his touch as he lifted her from the bed to see the view from the window, the view in the night across Hampstead Heath and towards Hareton Hall, where she grew up.

'Heath,' she said, 'there is no man on earth I love more than I love you…' Then she shut her eyes. Kate's body lay mute and lifeless in his arms and Heath let out a howl in the dark that made the staff and Edmund come rushing into the room.

'And that is how the story went…' Greta said, 'A sad story, with no happy ending.'

Greta looked around her as she took the keys from the kitchen fruit bowl, freshly filled with blood oranges. The older woman's eyes filled with tears.

'Katarina, your mother would have been glad that you came here, to discover more about her, but now I think you should leave and think twice about coming back…You see, when we burst into the room that day… her body was lifeless. Then, they took her from him and she was buried far beneath the ground. There is no coming back from that. But people say… no body exists where she was laid to rest. Heath was raving on about immortality for days after but he was talking to a ghost.

I tried to placate him, but he was inconsolable. She'd whispered something in his ear before she passed; something to drive him mad. He bared his teeth and hissed at me when I found him lying beside the place she was buried and to my shame… I ran. I always knew that he was different. I thought it made him special, but that night… he was beyond help. I only imagine what he may have done to bring her back…at least, partly.'

The wind blew a gale outside. The night closed in on them.

'There are ghosts here,' Greta said. 'And more than that, besides… You don't want to make the same mistakes your parents did…'

**Chapter Thirty-five**

_**Family**_

Katarina and Hinton were seated in the Hidden Garden.

'I've read the file, Hinton. Of course, I can't pretend I'm not…surprised but it doesn't change you. Not really. It really doesn't matter to me.'

Hinton looked surprised and hugely relieved.

'I… I've drawn you something. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you. Do you…think of me?'

'Do I think of you? Always.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning I accept you for who you are,' Katarina said, as she ate the lunch she'd brought. She and Hinton, both dressed in long, dark coats (Katarina wore a red beret and gloves covering the expensive bracelet her father had given her for her birthday). They'd met here for lunch to celebrate Hinton's win – with the help of a perfectly worded essay attached to his entry.

'Finally I can spell, read and write almost perfectly, thanks to you Katarina. Although I have to admit, it still takes extra effort to translate some words.'

'I am so proud of you, Hinton. What words are still difficult?'

'I love you.'

Katarina smiled.

Hinton continued, 'they are simple words but hard for me to say.'

'I love you too,' Katarina replied.

Hinton could not contain his smile.

'I have been thinking of the future. The truth is, Katarina, I was never very interested in school. I preferred the horses and my Art and was never very big on study, nor was Heath. We were both too wrapped up in our own little worlds; Heath and his ghost, me and my cravings. Well, we shared the cravings. Perhaps Linus is the one you should congratulate. He just got accepted into Cambridge.'

'Wow. That's amazing,' Katarina said. 'I have to say I'm kind of surprised. He's so into his weekend dance parties. I didn't realize he ever studied. I'm still waiting to hear about Art College.'

'Well, I've been thinking, wondering. I'm planning to go travelling this summer. I was going to start in Italy, and then maybe Greece…The scholarship gives me enough money for two if I travel second class. I was hoping you might come with…'

'Yes,' Katarina said. She was barely eighteen but she knew perfect when she saw it (or perfect for her) and the love she felt for Hinton was real and present. She didn't care what her father thought of the Spencers and she had little memory of her mother apart from the ghostly young girl on the roof that day. The thought saddened Katarina so much she put the image out of her mind and convinced herself the moment could never be replicated.

She'd demanded an explanation from Heath the next time they spoke but he'd just dismissed her sighting and said, 'I warned you not to go up there…'

'Perhaps some things are….inexplicable,' was all Kate could think. The girl had looked so… real, so inexplicably like her. Katarina had barely seen the pyjama-clad intruder's face, but she remembered her clear blue eyes, flashing in the dark, a ghost, a vision, a pretty little vampire.

Katarina understood that somewhere, way back in time, near the place she and Hinton now walked, towards the glass house on Hampstead Heath, her mother had once met Hinton's father, a meeting that created this new moment for her now.

In her mother's antique locket, which she always wore (it had been passed down through generations of Spencer women), Kate had placed a photograph of her mother, and herself; together. The locket, she was sure, kept her safe. Katarina looked over at the handsome young man next to her. It was hard to believe, eight weeks ago, they had barely spoken. Now, she couldn't imagine being without him as he took her hand and they walked across the frosty mist of the Heath.

The truth was in the final pages of the journal. That was why Linus had given it to her to read; she knew that now. The words contained strange truths but necessary ones. Her father was not her biological father. This was something she had guessed from the early chapters of the journal. To discover her heritage was a shock, to discover she had a half-brother in Linus, was revelatory. Katarina also had a younger brother but they had been in different years at separate schools and had conflicting interests. Katarina hoped they would become closer when they were both adults.

She thought of the last time she had spoken to Heath. She was alone on the meadow, angry and tear-stained when she went to him. Heath had had the strangest feeling he was not alone riding his horse that day. He'd lately, in his thirties, begun to hear the thoughts of every human being he came into contact with, something he found disturbing. Once it had only happened when he listened closely. Recently his specialist had warned him about it, warned him that he'd be fully immortal if he lived past thirty, free to roam the heath forever if he wanted to, free to turn himself to ash in the sun if he did not. His image would not be betrayed in mirrors or print. After twenty-six, he'd ceased to exist in photographs entirely.

Heath heard her angry thoughts before he saw his daughter again that day and was not surprised to see her standing before him when he turned. Katarina wore the same long coat as her mother had worn, twenty years ago. Edmund must have kept it with Kate's things. He owed her an explanation. Before she could speak, he apologized.

'Here,' he said, handing her his waterproof jacket. 'The rain is coming down and it will protect you from the storm.'

They rode together to the glass house in silence. When she asked him a question, instead of replying in words, he vanished in mist. Katarina wasn't sure if she would ever see him again.

Months passed. There were so many questions and so few answers that Katarina had stopped asking for them. Her own father had died before she had ever challenged him on the matters of her parentage. Edmund had been a good father to her and she had loved him and mourned his loss and that was all that mattered. Katarina had inherited The Grange.

Heath had not once visited them but Linus came around often for dinner. The three young people had wild parties in the drawing room that were the talk of the borough and many friends from Italy and Europe came to visit. It was a world of lightness and socializing that none of them - Linus, Hinton or Katarina - ever experienced during their solitary childhoods. Heath had become more and more reclusive and barely spoke to his own son, let alone Hinton, when they moved out of Hareton Hall. By then, Heath had stopped going to work, repairing the now crumbling mansion, and never appeared at his own pub for dinner like he used to.

**Chapter Thirty-six**

_**Birthday Party **_

Almost twenty years had passed since the night she was born, and Heath remembered it was Katarina's birthday. He'd had the gift wrapped. A gold necklace with diamonds tastefully worked into swans on the pendant. A fine piece of jewellery, new, not from the family crypt, Heath mused. He also had another gift, the deeds to Hareton Hall, made out to Linus, Katarina and Hinton. He placed inside the envelope the gift of a round the world plane ticket, and access to the shares he had set aside for her since she was born. It was the least he could do, with all his money. He knew it would never be enough to make up for the neglect she'd suffered from him. The gift was merely a gesture and he expected nothing in return. Her desire to be friendly surprised him, given that there were so many unanswered questions about their family.

Katarina was surprised that Heath remembered her birthday since he had ignored every other one and had refused an invitation to the party that evening. Instead, he had driven over to The Grange to see her. He explained he didn't "do" parties anymore, especially ones with a Great Gatsby theme. Instead, he asked her to go walking with him across Hampstead Heath. Katarina smiled and said, 'I'll get my coat.'

They walked in tandem across the meadow in the mild winter light.

"I need to get some more decorations for tonight in Hampstead High Street,' Katarina said, making small talk. 'Linus will be there, you know. And Hinton would love to see you again. You never replied to my invitation, so I just assumed you…forgot.'

'Do you honestly think I could forget the day you were born?'

'No,' Katarina said, 'I suppose not.'

'What was she like, my mother? People say you were both… inseparable. They talk of a ghostly teenaged girl…like the girl I saw in the rafters that day. Tell me what she was like…'

'Well, at first I thought she was nothing like you, but I have changed my mind. You share the same curiosity about things you should not… and there is a determination in your manner that is similar.'

Heath looked down at his feet.

Katarina could hardly believe that this stranger was actually her father. After discovering her mother's old journals she had always suspected there was a story she was never allowed to know. She did not understood her need to reach out to this strange, alone man, who hadn't really shown her any love. Only her mother's journals filled in the blanks, shocking though they were to her. Deep down, there had always been something missing from her family history, something that she'd always suspected. Now she knew there was a vampire in the bloodline. She wanted to go far away from here, at least for a while.

'Your eyes are the same,' Heath said, reaching out to Katarina. He touched her hair when she stood in front of him, overlooking the meadow. Katarina could not feel or sense the touch. The man's fingers were like the air.

'And you look, almost identical - so similar that it was hard for me, at first.'

Then she understood, even slightly, that her mother had been right to let Hunt raise her. Her real father knew nothing about selflessness and love, or did he? He seemed to feel he owed her an explanation, however, and she was interested to hear it.

Heath admitted he'd always known she was his.

'I used to check on you from time to time. It was the reason I never left The Hall. Your mother thought Hunt should raise you and I did not object. I thought raising you in a house full of memories of your mother would not be in your best interests. Your mother and I were meant to be together, always…and I have never truly loved another…'

'I know,' Kate said.

'Then you know, everything?' he asked.

'I read her journals. I know what she wrote in them. It made me understand her…and you, more. But I don't love you. I don't think I even like you. I have forgiven you. That is all.'

'I understand,' Heath said. 'I owed you an explanation…but you found it yourself. I thought I was not fit to be your father…with the boys, I barely had a choice. It was…perhaps wrong of me not to claim you. It was Kate's wish that you be raised at The Grange. I think she thought it was less…haunted than Hareton Hall.'

Heath touched his daughter's cheek and walked on. He wandered further ahead of Katarina, ending the brief moment of rare and unexpected closeness between them.

He added as an afterthought, 'Your mother would be very proud to see you as you are.'

Heath moved quickly and deliberately. Katarina was left standing alone in silence once again.

**Chapter Thirty-seven**

_**Eternal**_

The Grange was decorated like something out of the 1920s. Light filled the room. It was surprising to Katarina that she felt so happy. Hinton had not expected her acceptance. Together they worked.

Though she could only recall the length of her mother's hair, her large, pretty eyes and the warmth of her touch – barely – Kate's writing brought her back to Katarina. She could not, of course, detail her transformation into the girl in the attic that day and Katarina resolved that the more fantastical elements of her visit to The Hall might have been a terrible dream or vision.

Katarina had each of the journals stored in a locked drawer of her desk. They represented a year of Kate's life on this earth, and Katarina had read all of them. The words began in large, childish letters, written in an unsophisticated way. Kate had skipped forward to the good parts, and that was how she knew that Heath was her father, although she never thought of him as that. Not yet. Not ever. They were how she had learnt of the existence of hybrids and humans and vampires and bloodsucking and night terrors. It was where she began to believe in the secrets of the impossible.

The day in the mist, the last time Katarina had seen him, had been the day he started to disappear. Heath had begun to move faster, some say at the speed of light. His powers were so diverse now. He thought they might have brought him happiness but eternity without the one he loved was…worthless. He waited for her.

It was not meant to be that way. He'd been waiting for a long time. But a vampire turned by a hybrid is the longest hibernation of all. Twenty years, he'd been told. And even then, she'd need another eight to reach maturity (girl hybrids aged until twenty-eight when they sometimes attained immortality). It was a risk. There was a chance.

For twenty years the teenage girl had hidden and grown, showing herself only in the early dawn of first light. She could not speak to him or any other person, let alone touch them. Recently, she began to attain human form, as she had been the day she saw Katarina.

For the past month, Kate had come to him in the night, older, not translucent anymore, still talkative, like a child. Her skin had transformed from see through to pale. She no longer took the form of a ghost.

Heath was preparing their first moments together. Their first trip to Italy, where he intended to take her, was to coincide with Kate's twenty-first birthday as a hybrid. He'd been told it was different for women. She'd take longer to emerge.

Tomorrow would be the day. Tomorrow eternity began.

Kate had writhed in pain for months in her attic space, hidden in corners, curled up in blankets. Heath had wandered the heath in the evening to spare himself the pain of her suffering. No one else could hear or see her and he couldn't help her, could not even touch her. He was sure she must regret her choice but when her memory returned, from the wild dark spirit she had become, she reminded him constantly, how much she loved him. It was the pain of seeing Katarina for the first time that rendered her silent. Unable to speak to her grown child, or touch her, she'd disappeared for a long time into the dark. No one could ever find her when they went looking, not even Heath. Kate languished in a ghostly form, pined to hold her daughter, longed to take human shape. It was no use.

Tomorrow, however, they would be free to roam together. Heath would give up his human form for now and they would no longer be seen by the rest of the world, at least until her transition was complete. One day hybrids and vampires would be accepted by the human race but that day had not yet arrived and it would not be safe for them to reveal themselves. Those were the rules. Being hybrid, Heath could only turn one human and that human, being part vampire, had had to wait two decades for restoration. Kate's form would be human, her body hybrid, with all the term implied. Neither of them would ever look older than their mid-twenties. Heath would be there to help her final transition, to encourage her, to love her.

He had been travelling, on a tour of his European offices as she had languished in hibernation in The Hall. Over the years she looked on in agony as the children grew. They were her greatest joy. On occasion she visited Katarina at night, resting her face on the child's cheek, mindful she could never actually touch her. Eventually, she hoped they would discover an elixir; that instead of vanishing together, (the price Heath would pay for her complete transformation), they would be revealed simultaneously.

Heath had told no one he was winding up the companies in America and selling most of his property. It took many weeks. When he returned to London he only left the house to go riding on his favourite horse and sometimes he went for long walks across Hampstead, through the park, and back again. Kate was transforming. Her image appeared to him more than briefly, for moments, and in daylight, not just dreams. He'd become more and more silent to the point where even Greta, who had long ago realized that Heath was not like other men, had taken to worrying constantly about him.

He would miss Greta and the children, who were now grown but they would not miss him. He knew it.

He'd stopped pestering the boys about study or work, stopped worrying about the future of his companies (they would cease to exist soon enough and the cash signed over to Katarina, Linus and Hinton). Heath had long ago stopped asking about any of his old rivals and acquaintances, stopped being interested in the world around him.

That night, before the morning of change, when Hinton, Linus and Katarina came to see him, he was congratulatory but distant. Linus seemed more terse than usual and Katarina and Hinton were blissful in each other's company. The general malaise which Heath had embraced now seemed to affect all areas of his life. He had long since ceased trying to control the younger generation around him. He even congratulated Linus on his new start at University, he told him he was 'extremely proud of him, whatever he chose to do but that "enjoying life" was just as important as a formal education.'

It was all very out of character, according to Greta, who left early after the party that night. Heath had relented and made a brief appearance after Katarina left another invitation at The Hall. Hinton insisted on kissing her goodbye on the cheek and hugged her. His body was cool, his breath light. He assured her he was feeling perfectly alright.

The next morning, Greta noticed Heath's bed had not been slept in and he'd lost weight, so much weight that suits hung off him, but he'd stopped wearing them, anyway. Greta had long since stopped suggesting he take anti-depressants. Heath just laughed and told her he didn't need her help or anyone else's.

Something strange happened in the silence and emptiness of Hareton Hall when he returned. These days, it wasn't just when he slept. The attic was inhabited by a young girl, there was no question. Greta invaded the attic one day and found packets of lollies, uneaten crisps, shoes, socks, dresses, ancient dolls and ribbons. Then there were the strange, empty vials of elixir which looked like…blood.

The first time Kate came to him in human form, he'd been in the drawing room attending to the paperwork on his latest company acquisition. He looked up to see some birds flying beyond where Hareton Hall was situated. They looked so free, so wild.

It was three in the afternoon and a clear day. No one was in the house, on the floor where the study was, yet all his pens and papers had been sorted into neat piles when he walked back to his desk.

It had been eighteen human years since he'd seen her. He sat on his favourite chair and felt a reach on his shoulder, like a whisper, the touch of her hands was so light, so transient.

'Kate.'

'Heath.'

'I knew you'd come back to me,' he said.

He held her hand for a moment and looked at her perfect face until she was gone.

From that moment, he searched for her with some hope of finding her transitioned and whole. He was reminded of the night he begged her as she lay lifeless on her bed, 'Come back to me, Kate. Haunt me, drive me mad…'

'Only if you turn me, change me…make me yours forever.' Somehow the timing was wrong. Somehow they'd met in the middle and once again, they'd been kept apart, made to wait. Both of them like ghosts, only one of them real.

That day, she must have heard him.

He tried to put the image of her from his mind, at first, because it interfered with work, with his day. For many years, she only visited at night in what he tried to believe were his dreams.

_When Hinton came to stay, permanently, after Harrison had drunk himself stupid and wished to stay in the cottage, I insisted Hinton should stay in the main house and Heath should hire more help (he did, without question or interest)._ _Heath always seemed distracted and secretive, for a reason,_ Greta wrote in the journals I read that night, after my final visit to Hareton Hall. _I had as soft a spot for Hareton as I had for Heath, _she wrote._ Although I know I helped to raise a wolfish man, you must understand how difficult life had been for him and how his ambition had been fuelled by his loss and his early life and his…condition. Both Heath and Kate, both young and headstrong, helped to create the adult paths their lives had taken, but they deserved better. They deserved to be together, it is just a shame they managed to hurt so many people in the process. Although Annabelle remarried and found happiness at last - becoming the manager of her own gallery…' _Greta added as an afterthought.

Heath wandered up the stairs that final night, with a copy of Kate's favourite novel, _Jane Eyre, _in his hands. He placed it by the bed next to her photograph. He'd removed the photograph when Annabelle had lived with him here, but it hadn't helped him forget Kate. He'd read _Jane Eyre_ when he was younger, at Kate's insistence, unable to see the parallels to their own isolated existence and the seeking of great love.

**Chapter Thirty-eight**

_**Happiness**_

Katarina had been meeting Hinton for months by the time Heath had made plans to sign the freehold title of his estate over to them. It was a regular pattern.They met at a studio space, rented out by the Art College, in Soho.

Katarina loved getting out of North London. She was used to being in central London but she particularly loved the winding cobbled streets of Soho and the West End lights. She'd dressed up for the occasion, knowing that she and Hinton had a special dinner planned to celebrate the one year anniversary of their first meeting.

Instead of going to Hampstead, they decided on a tiny restaurant here, beside the studio space. Hinton had something he wanted to show her that did not include a pen and paper.

In return, Katarina had a gift she had made to give him.

They kissed as lovers do, warm and close. It was as if they had always been like this. Although it had taken them many months to feel comfortable in each other's company, they now trusted each other completely. Hinton took Katarina's hand as they went to the studio together, tripping through crowds and Christmas lights of a frosty London winter.

'Quick, Katarina, I want to show you something.'

'Yes Hinton, I have something important to tell you also, something I've been saving for today.'

Hinton looked at her in the street, as they stood still together as the crowds bustled around them. Her face shone with beauty, hope and expectation.

Hinton had dreaded this moment - the moment he knew in his heart would eventually arrive. Everyone he had been close to, even momentarily, had abandoned him. First his own parents, whom he'd never met, then his adopted parents; even his adopted uncle had shown little interest in him beyond teaching him to fight back and be sullen and not trust another living soul. But he trusted this girl and she sensed his desperation when she said she had something important to tell him. Hinton's face was downcast, he knew it was irrational. They'd never had an argument since the day they'd met but still the thought remained that she might be breaking up with him. After all, he needed plasma every nine hours to exist.

'I…I knew you would…tire of me…you are such an amazing person but…'

'Oh no, Hinton, you misunderstand…Hinton …I …love you. I think I've loved you since we both sounded out the word "incandescent" …you are…the most original, amazing…'

He put his finger on her mouth, happy that the night had not been ruined, and the surprise was still before them.

'Before you say anything else, you need to see this…'

They had reached the studio, a small building, one floor up on a tiny side street in Soho.

Hinton opened the door slowly.

He wrapped his tie across her eyes.

'Wait,' he said.

'Hinton, what are you up to?'

'I'm showing you something I've been working on over the autumn. It's something special…it's my future.'

Kate stood still in the centre of the room, an empty room with tall ceilings apart from the painting on the easel in the middle.

'Open your eyes.'

Katarina stood in her coat, flicks of snow upon her shoulders and glanced at the tall, handsome boy with the kind eyes, then glanced back at the painting of her.

'What do you think Katarina?'

'It's…amazing. I'm speechless…'

'It won first prize. You won me first prize.'

The picture that stared back at them was of a young woman's face, an identical artist's interpretation of the beautiful girl in the room. The haunted look in her eyes was replaced with something verging on both satisfaction and calm. If there was a word to describe the expression on Katarina's face in the portrait, it would be love.

'You are the reason I won this scholarship. I'm going abroad for the summer…'

Kate's face dropped…

'Well, that's wonderful… I had something for you but now…'

Kate realized Hinton had meant more to her than she to him, for he was the one contemplating leaving.

Hinton took her hands in the shadow of the exquisite painting. Light beamed in from Soho streetlamps. Wind whipped up leaves on the cobbled stone. He could hear her heart and tried to stop himself from hearing her thoughts. He'd consulted a specialist who'd said by twenty-one, his needs would be fully formed. But for tonight, he was okay. Together, they were warm and safe.

'It's just that… I made something for you, but I don't know if I should give it to you now. I mean, now that you are going…'

Katarina sat on the forgotten lounge which had been covered in an old painter's canvas sheet. There were splotches of blue and pink oil paint around the frayed edges of the material.

Hinton moved towards her slowly, blood tightening in his veins. He hesitated.

'That's just it, Katarina. I don't want to go alone. I know you shouldn't accept me, as I am and I know it's early to ask you this - we are young…I am…different, to say the least but…'

Katarina looked more intently at him, not wanting to anticipate his meaning without having it spelt out before her. He wanted her to go with him… or did he?

It was easier for him. All his life he had felt unloved until now. Hinton did not want any misunderstandings or any lack of clarity to mess things up the way love had messed up the people around him - his adopted Uncle, for example.

'I… I love you. And I was wondering if you could overlook…'

Hinton got down on one knee on the bare floors, his mouth watering with nerves, his blood tight in his veins…

'I…am wondering…would you do me the honour…'

Katarina was surprised. She had thought he'd meant her to travel with him but…this.

'Yes,' Katarina said…

'I haven't asked…' he began.

'Ask the question,' Katarina smiled.

'Katarina Spencer…I know we are young, I know we should be fearful of my…condition, but I've never been surer of anyone. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'

'Yes,' Katarina said.

In the shadow formed by street lamps, the young lovers kissed.

**Chapter Thirty-nine**

_**Wuthering Nights **_

It was an icy winter evening in Hampstead as he spread out all of the documents that ridiculous lawyer had required of him for the transferral of property and funds. He was sure he hadn't neglected anything. He left no notes but he knew Greta would do as he wished. She had not been forgotten either. There was an envelope for her which would be sure to allow her to live in luxury for the rest of her life. Apart from Kate, she had been the most loyal person he'd known.

Heath dressed in his warmest black turtle neck jumper and found his boots and the coat he liked best and wore most often. He heard a tap at the window, rain mixed with the branches of the tree outside, hail trickling onto the roof, reminding him of her beautiful face and pale fingers reaching for him.

It was not unusual any more. The waiting, the anticipation, the brief visits that had prolonged his years. He had taken to staying out late then driving home at two in the morning. But tonight was different, tonight she hadn't come to him and he knew it was because it was his turn to find her. Kate was waiting for him in the dark, on the heath, in human form.

She called to him when no one could hear, no one but him.

'I've missed you…' She said, 'I told you I'd come back to you.'

'Kate,' he whispered, 'it's been forever…' he said under his breath, glad she was so restless, like him, a twin soul.

**Epilogue**

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London. **_

In the morning, I was called to investigate the business transactions of a certain Heath Spencer and the links amongst his family which allowed him to divide his assets between three heirs. I was alarmed by news of his passing, but not surprised. The Spencers hadn't made it public and there was no note so it had taken some years for the law to rule that he'd died "of exposure" in the night. It was all rather strange, since his body was never found.

Rather than try to navigate the heath on a frosty winter morning, I stopped and parked near the local pub again and decided to enjoy the ten minute walk along the winding, private road that led to the imposing exterior of Hareton Hall. I was due to visit the new owner, Hinton Spencer, a young man who was married to Katarina Hunt. They had a three year old child and were in a hurry to get the documents signed because they were due to leave for America to spend a summer painting abroad. They were taking an extended vacation and assured me they did not care to live at The Hall but did not wish to sell the place, either. It was a simple matter of the transfer of documents that I'd waited some years to finalize. Hareton Hall would then be returned to its rightful owners.

It was a grinding walk, starting flat and easy and heading ever so slightly up hill, and then, when the sleet and wet started, down again. I was glad I could see the imposing house in the distance.

When I finally arrived there was not a hint of movement, save wind across ground, whipping the heather into a lavender mix in the distance. Up close, there was no sign of the housekeeper either whom I'd been led to believe still lived at Hareton Hall. There was no sign of anything. The fact that the owner had gone "missing" had led to many years of legal uncertainty.

An elderly man, wearing gloves, who looked like he worked with animals, wandered out from the stables, as if from nowhere. He must have been close to ninety years old.

'Is anyone at home?' I asked.

'Not likely,' he replied. 'I've just come from exercising the horses…'

'Is the owner here?'

'You could say that, many do…' he replied enigmatically. He looked at me strangely as he walked into air.

I wandered around to the side of the house, where the cobwebs grew and the foliage had been left wild, giving the lower floor of Hareton Hall the appearance of being covered in unruly brownish lace. There were windows and doors shut tight and locked. The garages were closed and the stables remained empty apart from one where a door had been left swinging open. The grounds themselves, once manicured, had grown wild and lush with secrets.

The owner, I thought, the young man I sought, a Mr Hinton Spencer, must have risen early to go riding across the heath with his wife.

Then I remembered the tales of ghouls and ghosts, the objects seen moving in windows, the people long gone that neighbours reported having seen only days ago. Someone in particular, a young woman with long dark hair who wandered the corridors and played loud music, turning on all the lights during wild, evening parties and lighting hundreds of fire -hazardous candles. I'd assumed the reports were simply jealous neighbours complaining about the noise created by the beautiful young wife, the new Mrs Spencer who'd also had the keys and the run of Hareton Hall. Since the noise always stopped at midnight, there was little anyone could do.

I was about to give up, admit defeat and return the copies of the papers declaring transfer of original ownership to the rightful heirs of Hareton Hall, when I saw the curtains in the upstairs window move. A young girl with long dark hair glanced down at me and smiled. I knocked loudly and waited for a long time, but still, no one answered.

'Katarina Spencer,' I announced, calling out distinctly, although I knew Katarina would be older now and the woman at the window was barely out of her teens. The downstairs curtains waved and I thought perhaps the housekeeper might be there. I looked up again. The girl who stood at the window was beautiful, otherworldly. The image disappeared before my eyes in a mirage of dark curls, cream lace and ruby cheeks.

I was convinced the cold, like the heat, could make you see a mirage in the mist yet I waited on the doorstep for a long time. No one answered. I was tempted to look back as I walked towards my car. For the first time in my life I didn't need proof. I was sure the rumours I'd heard were true, though my notes had many pages missing. As I drove towards The Grange, I was certain the lovers who had once inhabited Hareton Hall, lived there still. The girl had not aged a day since she was last seen alive, more than twenty years ago.

Summer Day is the author of Pride & Princesses, a novel for young adults inspired by Pride and Prejudice and Anne Eyre, a YA novel inspired by Jane Eyre. Follow Summer Day on:

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276


	7. Katarina Chapter 6

Wuthering Nights by Summer Day

Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer: 

Wuthering Nights

Copyright © 2012 Summer Day

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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*Note to Readers: UK Spelling / Punctuation used in Wuthering Nights

**WUTHERING NIGHTS **

**Prologue**

**From the journal of Greta Gardner, February 1978**

_The boy arrived at night, wrapped in a blanket. He was carried by his adopted father who placed him on the kitchen floor next to me. His big blue eyes stared out from under his wild black hair. He shrank from the fire, he shrank from my touch, yet his skin was cold as ice… _

_He arrived with a list of instructions tucked into the pocket of his jacket. _

_Eats - mostly chicken and oranges (likes: roast chicken, blood oranges and plums). _

_Drinks - mostly water and citrus juice._

_First warning - do not let him go in the sun often as he burns easily. _

_Second warning - make sure he wears his necklace amulet (a parting gift from his biological mother). He screams if you take it. _

_Final Warning - do not let him go out at night alone. _

_As a small boy (just walking) he had a tendency to wander off, and many times staff at the orphanage were unable to find the little fellow for hours. Once, he was found hanging upside down from the roof of the school gymnasium, like a bat. The only giveaway was the drip drip drip of juice as he stuffed his baby face with blood oranges._

_His file was then stamped: Special Needs. _

_I shook my head as I read this. I was sure Mr Spencer had finally lost his mind dragging the mite all the way back from Spain. It was many years before I learnt the full extent of his malady._

**Chapter One**

_**Hareton Hall**_

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London, Present Day**_

When I saw the house in the fragile light, I could barely make out the lines of gothic architecture in the morning mist. I'd heard whispers about the strangeness of the place. I was told that I risked my life going there; that the owner brandished a gun and roamed the heath looking for his lost love. Music and chatter, laughter and screams could be heard miles away in the night. Neighbours said the lovers who'd inhabited Hareton Hall lived there still, as young and beautiful as they ever were; haunted.

The family, the Spencers, originated in Yorkshire and could trace their lineage back a thousand years. Their secrets wove through history and time and family portraits. I held in my hand a photograph of Mr Spencer, an aristocrat with an interest in archaeology, returning from a trip to Spain with a small child. Among other documents, there was a photograph of the entire family, arriving to greet Mr Spencer and his newly adopted son at the airport. The family were generationally wealthy. Mr Spencer had an interest in Botany. According to my documents, he kept to himself and his study. Within the file, I also retained the marriage notice of the daughter, Kate. This was long before the family feud that had ignited decades of dispute.

In the picture was a beautiful mother with ink black curls. The older teenage boy, Harrison, had a scowl on his face and headphones on his ears. He appeared tuned out from the proceedings. The girl, her dark curls tied with an unruly red ribbon, revealed an adorable cherub face. Aged six, she peeked out from behind her mother and stole the picture. It was this child's face I remembered long after I'd set the image aside.

As I walked along the winding road that led from Hampstead Heath towards Hareton Hall, I passed another magnificent home, The Grange. This was a Georgian mansion hidden behind a maze of orange trees as opposed to The Hall where photographs showed gargoyles at its entrance. The signatures I was required to collect involved the ownership of both properties.

I'd been advised not to try to park along the icy road that connected the houses on opposite sides of the heath. Instead, I'd driven to a spot along the frosty lane which meant I had to walk the rest of the way in the rain. Late afternoon seemed to be losing light but then all the days were dark now as London turned rapidly into winter. It was not a good time to walk about the borough. A man had recently gone missing and was yet to be found. As I was surrounded by street crime in my first position as junior solicitor at a criminal law firm, I was not perturbed.

I pushed the family photograph, covered in plastic, deep inside my briefcase along with some handwritten journals kept by Kate Spencer, the only daughter of the house, and one by the housekeeper, Greta Gardner. Greta's journal contained a collection of various yearly expenses with some alarming family details written in the margins. Both contained valuable information entrusted to me. I noticed The Grange to my right, a well-kept home, built not far from a local landmark, Kenwood House. The Grange held some of the allure, yet I suspected hosted none of the secrets, of Hareton Hall.

The history of the Spencer family haunted me as I walked. I remembered words and snippets from the bizarre journals. For example, Heath was described as_, "a pale little boy with sharp milk teeth!" _This journal scribble was mixed with the photographs I resolved to return to their rightful owner. As I rounded the corner, I was almost as keen to talk to Greta Gardner, the housekeeper and keeper of secrets, as I was to speak with the owner of The Hall.

The heath was silent and stark in bare winter.

I'd visited during summer as a child but never with such purpose in my step. To my right and to my great relief, I saw the entrance to a pub. I'd been there with my family once, just after I'd graduated from university. I decided to warm myself and ask for directions.

The Horse and Ale used to serve delicious roast dinners and hot toddies. I hoped it hadn't changed too much in the intervening years.

I settled in front of the fire, grateful for the familiarity as I drank my hot, strong mulled wine. When the waiter asked me if I needed anything extra, I asked him for directions to Hareton Hall.

'Who wants to know?' The low, gruff voice of a man, perhaps in his thirties, spoke to me from behind one of the many sofas. He had a plate of what appeared to be lamb, dipped in gravy and a large pint of dark ale in his hand. His dog lay lovingly, sleeping at his feet, apparently unbothered by the smell of roasted meat.

'Ah, I do.'

'Really? And who might you be?'

To say he was unfriendly would be an understatement.

'I'm well, who are you?'

He almost laughed.

'I asked you first.'

'I'm Tom Bennett, the junior partner from _Bennett & Sons_. I have an appointment at Hareton Hall.'

'To see the owner?'

'Yes, and who might you be?'

'I am the owner.'

He didn't smile. He rose slowly. For a youngish man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. He looked like a hard partying insomniac. I offered him my hand and he took it obligingly. If I was trained to comment on such things, which I suppose I am, I'd say he was tall and fairly handsome. The air of sleeplessness hung over him like a cloud. He was polite yet unfriendly; he did not smile. He was unshaven; his dark shirt was unironed but expensive. He stared at me coldly.

The publican scurried off to some far flung corner of the establishment. One of the lights overhead flickered as the man moved closer to me. He picked up an implement from the fireside and stoked the flame.

I took another sip of my drink and waited for him to speak.

'Well then, it's me you've come to see. Place is empty, except for my housekeeper Greta, a few horses in the stables and the dogs.

'Perhaps I could come to Hareton Hall?'

'What for?'

'It would help if I sighted the property and it may be easier to talk there.'

'I am busy this evening. If you had come earlier as arranged…'

'I was detained. It was further away from Hampstead than I expected.'

'Even so, I don't have visitors at night. I shall arrange for you to come tomorrow morning. Twenty minutes.'

'It may take more than twenty minutes.'

The rain poured down overhead and with it the darkness of early winter. For once, I was glad as a young man, not to have to hurry back to a wife and family.

The man shrugged.

'Well, it's getting late. You can stay here tonight - for free; I own the pub. I'll send my driver to get you at nine in the morning. We can finalize the matter then.'

He smiled for the first time at the blonde, middle-aged woman who entered the room and moved softly behind the bar.

'This is Greta; she used to be the housekeeper at Hareton Hall; raised me as a child; she'll fill you in on the story. Look after him Greta and see he gets a comfortable bed.'

Greta looked at me warily.

He whistled to his dog, a large amiable Labrador who obviously worshipped his master.

The dog sat up and barked. I think his owner was used to people behaving in a similar manner.

It turned out Greta had quite a tale to tell as she chatted to me by the fireside that evening. I asked her to identify her household journal and she was pleased to do so. I marked it as "Exhibit A" in my head; it was to be a wealth of information. I had the journal open on my knee as we talked. The Spencer crest hovered above us as Greta spoke in detail about the family she'd once served. Before I retired to bed, I could not resist writing down what she said as I did not want to forget what she told me. As I offered to pay for my drinks, I was more intrigued than ever about the legends of Hareton Hall and the fate of the Spencer children who lived there, more than thirty years ago…

**Chapter Two**

_**Wild Child **_

I read Greta's words as I rested on the hotel bed. They were written in a firm, definite hand:

_February 1978 (second entry) - we were not sure what country the child originated from. When Mr Spencer brought him back from his trip, I thought he'd finally gone mad, like his ancestors. I said, 'You were searching for fossils, not people!' But he just shrugged and said, 'Well, I saw him on the street and no one claimed him so I filled in the paperwork, paid a requisite sum and now here he is. All this had happened many months before the actual collection. Perhaps the child was originally from Europe or maybe as close as Liverpool? The foundling had papers to say he was ours, signed by a solicitor, no less. He didn't speak a word that first night. His bell bottom jeans and shoes were filthy and caked with mud from the walk along the driveway. Dirt splattered on my kitchen floor. I thought it was very inconsiderate of Mr Spencer not to have put clean clothes on him but grown men rarely think of small comforts. The dark haired, six-year-old person stared at me blankly and flinched when I tried to go anywhere near him. He kicked and scratched me so hard when I went to take his jacket (where I read the "instructions") that I honestly wondered how I'd cope looking after a child in such a…state. Harrison, almost eight years the child's senior, shoved the boy when he thought no one was looking and whispered to him before leaving the house, 'Who do you think you are? Invading my home like this… I'll make you pay, charity case!'_

_Kate, who had always been naughty (a fact belied by her pretty and innocent face), and never close to her much older brother or absent socialite mother, became attached to the new boy who we named Heath and resolved to raise as part of our family… _

It was all rather formal yet strangely personal.

I'd learnt, as a child, Heath Spencer had no language and apparently very little memory of his origins. He'd certainly made up for it judging by the detailed and sophisticated legal correspondence he'd addressed to me personally and which I had spread out on the desk in my room. Heath's letters addressed the various ownership and personal scandals involving both himself and his adopted relatives in almost forensic detail. Events happened a long time ago, but the origins and complex story of the properties in question, both Hareton Hall and The Grange, involved both the Spencer and Hunt families whose paperwork I now studied. Their generational feuds had been the talk of the firm, behind closed doors, of course.

According to family tradition, the Spencer children were sent away to school the year they turned twelve. However, the friendship between the two youngest children began much earlier, with a whisper. It was as if Kate was the first to know, although his adopted father must have suspected. There was something different about Heath.

The first night the child arrived, Kate wandered up to him when he was left alone in the kitchen and the little boy hissed at her, baring his tiny, white incisor fangs. Kate scowled then smiled and moved towards the small boy, rather than rejecting him. As if he were some exotic pet, she tried to pat his head. The boy, suddenly ashamed of his behaviour, covered his mouth. Heath had only recently learned how to recede his little fangs but sometimes they came out when he was frightened or stressed. Kate took his hand and led him upstairs.

When they were in the play room, she asked him to explain more. It was their secret, she told him. Kate loved to have secrets. The little boy didn't know what to tell her.

'I was born this way,' he whispered.

His biological father had kept notes but Mr Spencer wanted proof. After many secretive tests with a Vampire specialist on Harley Street it was explained to Mr Spencer that the child had a rare condition. There was a line of Spanish vampires from thousands of years ago that he possibly descended from through his mother. His blood type was unknown. What they did ascertain was that the child might grow out of his ways and never fully mature into a "blood sucker" as the specialist called his "breed". He also warned Mr Spencer, "Tell no one." Fearing society would reject his new son, Mr Spencer agreed.

Heath was told his cravings for blood would not reach full maturity until he did (at around eighteen) and in the meantime, he could be easily sustained with a diet high in protein and iron. He would keep ageing until then. As the venom in his blood was diluted, he would be given protection from sun. His image would appear in photographs and mirrors until it began to fade in adulthood. Kate's father had been assured by the vampire specialist it was completely safe for Heath to go to church and be around other children.

Mr Spencer was given a list of instructions similar to the ones the boy arrived with; that he had to be careful of the child's fair skin in the sun, (although a small amount wouldn't hurt as long as he took his daily supplements and wore a pendant protecting him from daylight). According to the notes, the child's mother was horrified the baby had crackled and almost burnt in the light. Heath had also tried to bite her when nursing. Finally, unable to cope, his mother had left him with Spanish nuns when he was just three months old. She had placed the protective amulet around the baby's neck along with a kiss as she broke down and put him in a basket outside the gates of the orphanage. As he grew, incorrigible, the child daily escaped and ran himself ragged along the Spanish streets. That was how Mr Spencer found him, pale and hungry for protein, like a wild kitten.

After the child arrived at Hareton Hall his incisors were painlessly filed down during regular check-ups at the family dentist and life resumed as normal. Life for Heath was a regular routine of vitamin taking, avoiding the sun, wearing his amulet (even in the bath) and craving roast dinners (his favourite). The child was deemed eccentric and wild but no one except Mr Spencer, Kate and Heath knew he was actually different. He had cravings for cooked, red meat, a desire to sleep half the day and stay up all night, but those were habits and slowly, Heath conformed to the ways of the household.

On one occasion, he had been caught off-guard when Kate's mother had walked in on the child playing with his train set and Heath, suddenly frightened, sensed an intruder. He turned round and hissed, before realizing the full impact of what he had done. His new mother fled from the room screaming, "He's not normal! He's just not normal!" Heath tried to apologize. The woman wouldn't listen. She packed her bags and wanted to take Kate with her; the little girl refused to go.

After Kate's mother left Hareton Hall, her father withdrew from the world. Mr Spencer retired from normal life and began to live in relative seclusion. He went for long walks during the day and took trips abroad, collecting plants to study and write about in his home office.

Growing up, Kate and Heath ran wild. As the years wore on, Mr Spencer became a hermit and slept often, worked in the garden and read the Bible fireside in the afternoons. One by one, the staff began to give notice, except the housekeeper Greta, who'd been with the family since she was sixteen. Greta had more to do than keep track of the wayward children who were soon expelled from the local primary school for "non-attendance, unruly behaviour" and (worst), "attempted biting," something Kate hotly denied as Heath looked on sheepishly.

Although Greta knew Heath was unusual, he'd managed not to reveal his secret to her. There had to be something wrong with him, Greta thought, but nothing that boarding school wouldn't fix. Besides, no one was perfect.

Although Mr Spencer felt especially partial to his youngest children, he began counting the days until they were old enough to be sent to Yardley Mansion School in Scotland, a Spencer family tradition. Perhaps they would learn something useful about discipline in such a prestigious establishment. After all, it would be nearly impossible to escape lessons there and Heath's condition seemed almost entirely under control, his penchant for roast dinners aside. But after all, who except vegetarians did not like a good roast?

When Heath grew stronger (useful against Harrison) and his inclinations grew rougher, he hid them and learned to control his desire to sometimes nip Kate on her leg or arm. In fact, he'd be horrified if she knew he once imagined tasting the pretty little vein in her wrist.

He'd educated himself and knew biting was wrong and never in a billion years would he wish to hurt the person he loved most in the world. Heath religiously took his supplements, wore his amulet and kept himself sustained with his favourite juice and meat. As he grew older, his cravings were not subsiding quite as easily.

Heath was closer to Kate than anyone. Apart from Kate's father, whom Heath regarded warmly, she was the only friend he'd ever had. Well, except for Greta, who, after a faltering start, grew to look upon Heath with great fondness. At first Heath didn't like Greta. She was always huffing and puffing in the kitchen about the extra work and ignored him when he asked lots of questions until he stopped talking altogether and then she said things like, "Has the cat got your tongue, young man?"

Harrison was at home for half-term holidays when the children started playing a particularly savage game of sardines. Heath had been caught running through the attic by Harrison and was beaten with a stick. Heath then (unsuccessfully) tried to drive his homemade stake into the older boy's leg. After witnessing Harrison's cruelty, Greta had become Heath's ally. She told Mr Spencer who reprimanded Harrison for picking on the smaller child and withdrew the older boy's financial privileges for a month. Harrison was angry; the boy was half his height but twice as strong.

'I'll get you back for this, charity case,' the older boy said as he again hit Heath when nobody else was about. There was enough force in that clip to make Heath's ear bleed. Heath bared his teeth, as he waited for the strength in his venom to take over. Kate swiped her elder brother and before long the three of them were wrestling, pushing, kicking and shoving each other until the little girl was almost squashed in the pile beneath. This just led the two boys to start fighting all over again. Heath bit Harrison on the wrist and spat out the taste just as quickly. Harrison called him a "little animal". Kate screamed so hard Greta had to race up the stairs to break them up.

Harrison would have been sent back to school to suffer the long weekend alone before term started but Greta noticed spots on all three children as she was sending them out of the room separately. They had developed chicken pox, which Harrison blamed on the local "state school scum" - Heath and his bratty little sister's school friends.

'Oh be quiet, Harrison!' Greta warned. 'I think it is far more likely that you carried the chicken pox back with you from that posh boys' school your father pays the earth for…'

Chastened, Harrison went back to bed moaning and demanding more sympathy. Both Harrison and Kate, spoiled before their mother left, demanded to be waited on hand and foot but not Heath. He had lain there, expecting very little sympathy (eyeing the specially delivered basket of blood oranges), sleeping most of the day and happy to gnaw on a chicken leg when it was given. Because he was a stoic little boy, Heath had won Greta over. She kept the best treats for him - fruit and sandwiches for his lunch (the boy always left the bread and ate the meat) - fussing over him like a young mother. This too, bred Harrison's resentment. Heath, for the first time in his young life, basked in the adoration the females of Hareton Hall gave him, and he grew into a tall, robust child whom Greta predicted would be, "a real lady killer one day".

At eight years old, that day hadn't quite arrived.

**Chapter Three**

_**Kate and Heath**_

After Mr and Mrs Spencer separated, Hareton Hall was never the same.__Mutual loneliness, secrets and headstrong natures had drawn Heath and Kate into an alliance. The days went by and as they grew together, the children craved freedom.

One cold day in November Kate and Heath lay side by side on Hampstead Heath making starfish in the snow. There was no sun as usual. Their arms and legs reached out forming windmills in the ice, so that their fingers almost touched.

'Kate?' the small boy asked as he sat up and wrapped his scarf around his neck and ears. He had dark hair and blue eyes and was as strikingly good looking as the girl, with her midnight curls and icy, reddened cheeks. Both of them had perfectly white teeth from their frequent trips to the dentist and Heath, in eighteen months, had learnt how to control his fangs, perfectly. Now that he was a little older, he never revealed them in public and they didn't need to be filed anymore.

'Yes,' she replied.

'I wish Harrison would stop picking on us.'

'Me too, he's…mean. Every time he comes home from school I dread it. He takes over the house and pinches me and locks me in my room when no one is about. Ever since mother…I can't say the words,' she said as she put her small hand to her mouth and Heath noticed a tear drying on her face. The recent abandonment of Kate by her mother had not overly concerned Heath, since the woman had had nothing to do with him on a daily basis and had shown little interest in his upkeep. But he understood how it felt to be left and reached out to commiserate with Kate.

That first night, after Mrs Spencer left, Kate and Heath had played with the train set until, eyes heavy, they fell asleep together on the floor. Greta had placed a pillow under each small head. Ever after, they slept near each other or on opposite sides of the wall. They made hand puppet shows in the moonlight on the walls of the play room and Heath always let Kate win at games.

'Don't cry,' Heath told Kate that day in the Hampstead meadow. 'You have to be strong. If you cry, your tears will turn to crystal in this weather and freeze on your face. Imagine how awful that would look. Yuck.'

Kate laughed. 'Perhaps it's for the best. You can save my crystal tears in a jar,' she joked.

'I don't like it when you cry,' Heath said, wiping the tears from her face.

Kate sat up and sniffed into her coat sleeve.

The boy took her mittened hand.

'Never cry again, Kate. We must be stronger than that, stronger than them.'

'Stronger than this?'

Kate rolled up the edge of her jeans to where her knee showed the beginnings of a scab and a remarkably deep bruise.

'It happened when Harrison kicked me because I wouldn't give him the riding whip father bought me for my birthday. I was afraid he'd whip Hero too much.'

To her surprise, Heath moved forward, leaned over her leg, touched the scab and moved closer, almost as if he was going to lick it.

'That's gross,' Kate said, 'you were going to kiss it better like Greta would. , I hate kisses, unless I'm the one giving them!' the girl announced, pulling her leg closer.

Heath looked very dejected and turned his face away.

Kate smiled; glad to have evoked such a strong reaction. She was 'quite the little exhibitionist', as Greta told her once.

'I'm only kidding! Gotcha…' Kate smiled.

Heath grudgingly turned to face her.

Kate covered her knee and changed the subject. 'I heard you playing guitar this morning. I can hear you from my room when I wake up. You play much better than Harrison.'

Heath beamed with pride. He wasn't used to hearing praise before he'd moved to The Hall. His only real problem was his adopted brother.

As if reading his thoughts, Kate said, 'Never mind, we'll get Harrison back one of these days. C'mon, I'll race you to the bus stop. I found some coins in Harrison's coat pocket when he was sleeping. Now we can go and buy sweeties.'

Heath didn't want to disappoint her with his unnatural lack of desire for sugary lollies.

Instead, Heath picked up a stick and used it to plough through the snow quickly. He withheld the urge, like small children sometimes have, to bash the flower beds because he was fairly sure Kate wouldn't approve. In this way, the children civilized and complimented one another's personalities.

'One day, when we're grown up, I'll take care of you, Kate,' he said.

'Silly, you take care of me already.'

'When we're grown up we'll get married.'

'Even sillier, we're brother and sister.'

'Not really. We're not actually related.'

The boy was annoyed his suggestion had not been taken seriously. He reached into his pocket and dragged out a remarkably fresh, although slightly crumpled, wildflower.

'I've been saving this all morning to give to you,' he said, handing her the daisy.

'Thank you,' she said, dismissively. Kate was already thinking about how easily they could avoid going to school and go straight to the sweet shop instead.

The boy picked up his brown leather satchel and headed to the bus stop, ignoring Kate as he walked past her. 'That will teach her a lesson,' he thought.

'Stop! Now you are being the silly one,' the girl said. 'We both know we're not really brother and sister.'

Heath smiled at Kate as she took his hand. The frozen winds played with their hair and both children forgot their conversation as they ran to stop the bus as it moved forward. The little boy was amazed at how fast he'd begun to run, almost merging in double quick time across the meadow. He had to wait at the bus stop for the girl to catch up.

**Chapter Four**

_**The Grange**_

It was so cold Greta noticed Kate's breath first as she entered the kitchen and placed her school bag on the floor. Heath dawdled behind his eye-catching counterpart. Kate was meticulous about her appearance. Her perfect curls lay in bunches behind her ears, tied in royal blue ribbons, the colours of her school. Her long socks were not rippled as other children's were. In fact, the uniform she wore was in good condition, unstained and nearly uncrushed. Greta looked at Kate again. She knew that after her mother had fled, literally fled the house one night to go gallivanting around Europe with a man she'd met in rehab, Kate had become unmanageable - but bunking school? She really didn't know what to do about this.

From the moment Kate had been born her Papa had indulged her every childish whim, much to the displeasure of her mother who worried that the child would be spoiled and difficult, like Harrison. Well, he was in boarding school where Kate would surely be sent soon, just as her older brother had been.

As for the "wild child", as Greta thought of him, he looked completely unkempt – shirt hanging out, hair unbrushed, knees scratched. He ran upstairs to Kate's bedroom (a converted ballroom) or to his own, the more modestly sized room opposite, to play video games and listen to music. The children would lounge around on the floor (strewn with the striped wrappers of Kate's favourite boiled sweets) in the afternoons. They ate and listened to music, hardly bothering to even attempt their homework.

Heath had long ago discovered the path around the side of the house, through the kitchen door where the new au pair was standing and peeling potatoes for dinner. He fled past their elderly gardener and crept inside the kitchen, thinking he might sneak past, but Greta was too quick. She grabbed him by the hands.

'Wait.'

'What Greta?'

'Don't say "what", I know what you've been doing, or rather not doing.'

'You just said "what".'

'That's not what I meant.'

'Said it again…'

'Oh, you little rascal!'

Heath sighed.

'What is it Greta?'

'You haven't been to school, have you? You and Kate have been gallivanting on the High Street. I can't believe you've not been detained by police! The meadow must be too freezing even for both of you, scamps. And look at that bruise on your leg, Kate.'

Kate moved behind the bench protectively. She didn't want Greta to have too much knowledge about the behind-the-scenes household warfare.

'If that's Harrison's doing, I told you to tell me if he ever tries to hit either of you again! He's twice your age. Honestly, I don't know what this family has come to ever since your mother left. I'll be calling social services next. Or they'll be calling me.'

'Oh don't do that Greta. I just knocked into something when I was out riding…at pony club.'

Heath looked at Kate quickly, knowing if they told on Harrison again, it would only make matters worse the next time he came home.

'I told you to tell me if that older brother of yours so much as raises his voice. He wouldn't dare do it in my presence. But that doesn't give either of you an excuse to avoid school. It's a good thing Harrison is going away to University. By then, he won't even be coming home for holidays…'

Heath and Kate were too quick. Greta talked on whilst they ate everything on the kitchen countertop behind her.

When Greta stopped talking, Kate took a bottle of fizzy drink and Heath grabbed a packet of Parma ham and they raced up the stairs, rejoicing in the time when their play room was empty of responsible adults (almost always). They had the whole ancient second floor to themselves in the afternoons. They could play their games or crawl outside, along the ledge that connected them to the ground and the road that led them to The Grange. Heath liked to go fishing in the stream and learned to make an open fire and cook the food on it. He was more and more interested in living in this natural, primal way, even at such a young age.

Annabelle and Edmund Hunt were the same age as Heath and Kate and their nearest neighbours. They were so stuck up neither Heath nor Kate had ever spoken to them. The blonde girl had poked her tongue out at Kate once during ballet lessons at the local church hall. Neither of the girls had spoken to each another since.

Kate and Heath lived in a world of their own - a world with a secret language and two rooms that adjoined each other with archaic light fittings, tall ceilings and furniture passed down through generations.There was a shabby opulence surrounding their secret society of two. Kate's room had a canopied bed with cream sheets and a blanket and an old fashioned cream lace doll.

On occasions when the neighbourhood children were invited to tea, the doll's house intrigued all of Kate's jealous little acquaintances (mainly from school). But Kate never let Heath catch her staring at the perfect dolls in their pristine world longingly. She knew he'd think envy beneath her.

As he grew older, he became tougher and more boisterous, wanting to be outside more than inside which, Greta reasoned, was only natural in an almost twelve-year old boy. Heath remembered little of his origins. It was as if he'd only ever existed in Kate's world, something he knew to be untrue. Yet Kate's father was the only father he remembered. Mr Spencer had been kind to him so he loved him as he loved Kate. But he knew her father was not his real father and that the "blood" running through his veins had some kind of magic in it. He felt different to other boys his age - happier roaming the woods than sitting in a classroom.

Harrison, in his final year of school, was still a problem. Once, when he was home from school for a weekend and Mr Spencer was at a business conference in Brussels, Greta was called away for the afternoon. Kate's older brother rounded up the children after she left and locked them together in the attic after inviting some of his older school friends round to party. Harrison thought it would be fun to terrify the "little kids". Neither Kate nor Heath rewarded him with their tears but there had been an all-out fight in the hallway after the children had somehow managed to break the lock. Harrison hadn't expected this but it was the last time he underestimated Heath's strength.

When Kate's father arrived home early, only to discover Heath and Kate amidst a mess of teen partying and chaos, he hit the roof. Mr Spencer packed Harrison off to the strictest boy's boarding school in the South of England to complete his finals. It was a place where corporal punishment was yet to be banned another reason for the older brother to harbour resentment against the smaller children. They were soon to be packed off to Scotland, to a co-educational school, strict but far less rigid than where Harrison was going.

It was summer by then; Mr Spencer had grown frail just as Heath and Kate grew stronger and taller.

Hampstead was quiet. It was as if the entire borough had gone on holiday. Heath had taken to staying outside but on one particular rainy and overcast day, Kate took an entire chicken and a jug of orange juice out of the fridge and set out lunch in the upstairs playroom.

They sat together, enjoying their meal that last Saturday before they were due to board the train to Scotland. Both Kate and Heath had grown more studious in preparation for boarding school. They even finished reading the required list of books, lying on their backs, in the window seats of the playroom. Kate smiled at Heath - sometimes she thought her father had brought Heath home to be her exclusive friend.

September arrived after an endless summer of reading and night swimming in the indoor pool. The day before they were due to leave for Scotland, bright sun shone through the bay windows. Heath, uncomfortable, pulled his amulet close to his chest. His eyes felt sensitive to the light.

'C'mon children,' Greta said, wanting to make their last day at Hareton Hall memorable. 'Rise and shine. It's a lovely day. Why don't we all take a picnic outside and go to Hampstead Heath? School doesn't start until Monday. C'mon, get dressed.'

The children were excited as they pulled on their shoes.

In the parklands, Greta spread the checked blanket out on the lavender field under an umbrella and the children hungrily heaped food on plates. Heath got bitten by ants but barely made a peep even when Greta soothed his calf with warm tea. The boy had never known such care and in all his young years, never seen a spread of such magnificence. He ate three pieces of turkey, a chicken leg, ham, a left over chop, a slice of bacon and a huge glass of orange juice. Kate and Greta drank tea and ate most of the cucumber sandwiches.

Afterwards, the children went running to the ponds to feed the ducks. As Greta lay reading a magazine, Kate and Heath discovered the hidden conservatory in a secluded part of the park. It was like being in another world, one far removed from London or Spain or family fighting or anywhere they had ever known - a glass palace with a covered in roof and shards of dappled, muted light (not enough to make Heath's skin burn). The building was filled with remarkable tropical trees and flowers growing in an adjusted temperature. There were even garden chairs to sit on and stare in wonderment at the magical surroundings. Both children thought the same thing; that they'd found a remarkable secret, a place where they could hide…and meet.

**Chapter Five**

_**Edmund and Annabelle**_

This secluded section of Hampstead Heath also led to a hidden laneway that attached Hareton Hall to The Grange. Kate and Heath ran down the lane and it brought them out in the garden of the neighbouring property. They laughed when they saw their neighbours, Edmund and Annabelle, in the distance. Viewed through the low, floor-length windows of the Grange, the Hunt siblings were taking private dancing lessons. Heath had never seen a ballet class and thought the whole thing was hysterically funny. Kate thought it was rather beautiful, but she would never admit that. The Grange was a world beyond billowing cream curtains where all seemed tranquil and safe. When the dance teacher tried to demonstrate with Edmund, how to partner, Heath literally fell on the ground laughing.

'Who's out there?' Edmund shouted, turning towards the window. Heath and Kate crouched out of sight, beneath the sill.

'Mind you keep your eyes up here while we are dancing,' the woman, wearing leg warmers and a tight hair bun, scolded him. Edmund reluctantly looked away. Annabelle glanced up when the teacher wasn't looking and noticed two children. The boy looked vaguely familiar to her, about the same age, running away from the house in the long grass. The girl tumbled in the heather and before long they were laughing and running, fading into the meadow.

If anyone had asked, Annabelle would have described them as the opposite of her and her brother; free. The blonde girl wished she could join them. Instead, her glacial, childish image, secured in tight ballet slippers and pink ribbons, her unsmiling yet lovely face, mocked her in the mirror.

That night, Heath lay awake under the covers of his bed, his school trunk packed, his uniforms tagged with his initials, perfectly starched and ironed. The summer wind outside howled through the trees and rain fell softly on the roof. He could see shadows of the branches outside. A breeze swept through the heath across the pond and along the heather fields. Then all he could hear were the traces of it, and in those traces, a whisper, and in that whisper, the sound of a tap at his door.

Kate came wandering into his room with her hair in curlers as she wanted to make a good "first day" impression at her new school.

'You look ridiculous,' Heath said. 'Go back to bed. You know Greta has warned you about not distracting me now that we are going to be in separate houses at our new school.'

Kate, hurt, turned and walked out of the room. Heath was sorry to have been so mean but how could he explain his issues to Kate? Lately, the desire to sink his teeth into her wrist was becoming stronger. He'd been taking his medication twice a day and was just about to take his evening dose when Kate arrived to tell him her hopes and dreams for the future. She'd gone back to her room, crawled upon her quilted bed and fallen asleep, listening to the storm rage outside her window.

Late, very late that night, the young girl woke to the sound of the screaming trees and the branches thrashing the window pane. She would not be rejected this time and opened the connecting door to find Heath fast asleep.

'Heath,' Kate whispered. 'Wake up.'

'What's wrong?' the boy said, crawling out from the sleeping bag he slept in for security – the one Greta had tried, with little success, to take away from him these past six years.

'I had a dream about us.'

'Shh. Go back to sleep, Kate.'

'I dreamt I was left outside in the rain, freezing in winter. I cut my arm on your window and it bled and hurt and I had to beg you to let me inside…'

Heath groaned. 'Don't say things like that Kate. I would never hurt you.' He moved uncomfortably, the venom sometimes pulsed more strongly in his blood at night, but he'd never told anyone this. 'Go back to sleep, Kate. It's almost morning. You know Greta doesn't like it when you come in here anymore…' He was due to take his morning vitamins, and then he'd be sure to feel normal for at least eight hours.

Heath rolled over. Kate hovered again and began to cry as she rocked his sleeping bag, forcing him to open his eyes.

'Heath, Heath, wake up.' He rolled over unwillingly. 'Promise me…promise me something.'

'Alright, I promise, now go back to sleep.'

'Promise me, if that ever happens, you'll let me in.'

'Heath smiled and shook his head sleepily, 'I promise. Now go back to bed.' Heath took his capsules from the bedside table and gulped them down in the morning light.

Kate crawled beside him, dragging her blanket around her, as he turned over. The girl gained comfort from her nightmare only when she managed to rest her head in the crook of the reluctant boy's shoulder.

**Chapter Six **

_**Katarina – Present Day**_

After a relatively comfortable sleep and the beginnings of an unusual story told to me by Greta Gardner as I sat by the fire in the owner's favourite chair, I was more than intrigued. I finally visited The Hall the next morning, cited the property, spoke briefly to the owner regarding matters of importance and took down the details required. I was then, surprisingly, invited to dinner at the pub the following week to finish up our business. As I drove out of the gravel driveway and slowly passed the pub, I saw that it was closed for the morning. I imagined the fireside warmly lit in the evening and the owner, who harboured his own secrets, sitting in my place.

That evening, Heath sat in his favourite armchair, reading the newspaper with more interest than he usually showed. He had the look of a burnt out rock star in his late twenties, still handsome and relatively young. He called his dog to heel and turned to sit at his chair near the fire. Greta was nowhere in sight; she'd gone home earlier to take care of her own children. A barman had taken her place.

Heath was sipping ale and still reading the newspaper when he heard a gaggle of shrieking teenagers who instantly irritated him. It was legal to drink at eighteen but he wondered why - girls dressed like tramps in denim shorts and black tights chugging down alcohol was a negative result. He should have imposed a dress code, he thought gruffly. Society had really gone downhill since the nineties. Then he remembered some of the looks of that era were pretty bad, too. He must be getting old, he thought, although no one would have known it. His face was harder but retained the handsome, boyish features of his youth. Recently, since turning thirty-nine, he'd felt quite ancient. Yet many of his business associates assumed he was much younger than he really was. There was no point in an explanation, revealing the secret of his youth.

He resigned to gruffly patting his dog and when he looked up the teenaged girls began joking around, making more noise than before. One of them, with long blonde hair and too much black mascara, waved at him. He turned away and stoked the fire. He wondered where their parents were and felt annoyed that his candle-lit lair was being infiltrated by the local riff raff. He looked back at his paper and shook his head.

His own son, annoyingly public school educated and hopelessly addicted to clubbing and drinking and smart-mouthing him, would no doubt have tried to chat them up. Heath had mostly, throughout his bizarre and unexpected life, been interested in people who at least seemed the same age as he really was. Since school, he'd felt people who hadn't lived as much of the journey as he had, had less to teach him. There was also the inevitable problem of his lack of ageing. People had started to notice. One of his old school acquaintances had asked him if he was on human growth hormones.

Hard living had taken its toll but Heath would never look older than thirty. His specialist told him that, realistically, he shouldn't expect to physically age more than twenty-six years (the age when his bones stopped growing and his venom fully matured). His sleeplessness kept him looking closer to thirty. The only thing that could finish him was a prolonged dose of sunlight or a stake through his heart, but agelessness, immortality was becoming a problem. His friends and associates looked a decade older. The longer he stayed in Hampstead, the more the whispers grew until they became openly hostile questions.

Heath flicked past the entertainment section in the paper, highlighting yet another vapid celebrity. His gaze then rested on the financial columns of the newspaper.

Normally these articles would have bored him but since the most recent financial crisis, he'd found them a lot more interesting. The companies he'd bought and discarded prior to 2008 had made him very rich, even richer than the acquisition of land and residential property. He was so wealthy that he only kept the Hampstead house out of sentiment. Just the thought of being nostalgic at his age, when some were just beginning family life, made him question his own sanity.

The candle on the low table near him flickered and his dog barked, unexpectedly, causing Heath to look up from his paper; what he saw made him catch his breath for the first time in years.

Kate's face.

The hair was lighter and straighter, but the face and body were the same. Her eyes were identical. Dark brown and large with long black lashes, hiding secrets he had only learnt once: same height, same face, same voice. His breath was taken away with a low sigh and he knew if he didn't speak to this woman… who was barely more than a girl, he would regret it forever. Still, it would take another drink to work up the courage.

The girl, in her long cream scarf looked up and matched his gaze. In the minute it took for Heath to decide whether to speak with her, the band played that song Kate loved….

'_It's my favourite,' Kate had said, laughing as she swapped earphones and grabbed Heath's hand in the clandestine meeting they'd had in the ten minutes before morning classes started. 'You can't imagine how much I love this song,' she added, dragging him through the school hall making a sunny spectacle of herself…wearing way too much eyeliner to get through the day without detention._

The girl was the image of Kate, yet not Kate. She ordered a fizzy drink but a pint of ale was placed in front of her. She glanced around the room, noting Heath's drink which had somehow been swapped with hers. The waiter was clearly not paying attention. Heath wondered if he'd finally lost his mind as the girl's stare intensified. She looked back at the barman. Oblivious to being studied, Kate's double wore a jaunty beret on her dark hair and had a colourful smile on her lips as her friends toasted her birthday.

'Happy eighteenth Katarina!' they yelled in unison.

Heath remembered the date. He was reminded every year.

In that moment, he hesitated to approach her and instead, glanced down at his paper. Moments later, as Heath read wearily beside the fire, a voice said, 'I think we've been given the wrong drink.'

Heath could not resist a question as he looked up at her shiny adolescent face and she replaced the cocktail glass in front of him with the ale.

'You're not, it can't be, Kate Spencer's daughter?'

'Kate? Oh, you mean my mother Kate?'

'Yes.'

'I suppose so. I'm Katarina Hunt. This is my birthday, obviously,' the girl said, glancing back at her friends who hovered near the bar.

'I know,' Heath said, surprised anyone would think he could forget such a thing.

'My father and I live just across the Heath. I've seen your photograph in the newspaper. You must be, my uncle?'

Her statement was so loaded Heath didn't know where to begin.

'Yes. You…you are my son's cousin.'

'My cousin… that's right… big family secret, no one speaks about it. None of the family even speaks to each other, clearly. How is it possible you don't look a day over thirty?'

'It's…the dark,' Heath replied.

She made a joke of it as only the young can. She was looming at the table now and had the audacity to pat his dog on its shaggy head. Heath's pet beamed from all her attention, a fact that Heath found mildly irritating.

'Do I… do I look like my mother?' the teenage girl said as the fire flickered.

And then it occurred to Heath, that instead of answering he could make her an offer she'd find difficult to refuse. After all, it was not too late and it was the girl's right to meet her cousin and see her mother's childhood home.

'Why don't you come back with me… to Hareton Hall? Her portrait remains on the wall. I'm headed there now. You can meet your cousin. There are also some photographs you might never have seen from…before. I'm sure your…father…won't mind.'

Katarina's eyes flashed and Heath saw a great deal of Kate's personality once again. It almost scared him, but not quite.

'Heel,' he said to his dog who'd started yapping excitedly (again) and was obviously beside himself at the smell of new company.

'Behave yourself,' Heath growled.

'Well, my friends…'

Katarina glanced back to the bar as the tall girl with blonde hair wandered over and gave Heath a bemused smile. Katarina introduced them to each other.

'Oh, so this is your uncle, Katty?' the girl asked in disbelief, as if to say, _yeah, right, he's way too young and hot._

'Kind of…we've only just met.'

Katarina's friend stifled a giggle as if she didn't believe her but either way, she didn't care. If Katty wanted to chat to this hot older man, that was her affair.

'Well, the night is young and so are we but we have to be going, early game tomorrow and all that. Are you coming with us Kat?'

At that moment Heath wore his most amiable expression.

Katarina knew she might only get this one chance to discover all she could about the people she'd only seen once or twice in old photographs.

The man in front of her was young and extremely handsome, yet so hard and cold. Something in her desired to visit his world, meet the cousin she'd never met as a child, see the house where her mother had been raised, learn the secret her family had kept for a generation.

'No,' Kate said. Then she looked at Heath and added, 'I'm coming with you.'

**Chapter Seven**

_**The Storm **_

His cravings had been less extreme this evening and he was fairly sure the parlour, where he kept his supply of freshly caught game, was locked. He did not wish this stranger to encounter an instant surprise. It would turn her off ever returning and Heath did not want to risk that just yet. He could only imagine the look of horror on her face if she was to discover his secret. They reached the gates through the midnight mist and Heath stopped the car with a jolt. He drove the vehicle fast and hard. He was not used to having guests. Heath had little thought for his passenger. Katarina arrived at the house looking white and surprised.

The girl shivered.

'Are you cold?'

'Yes.'

'Here, take this,' he said absently.

Heath pulled a red shawl out of the glove compartment and handed it to her.

'Who's?'

'It was your mother's,' he added.

Katarina didn't bother to ask what it was doing in his car.

The girl's fingers had practically frozen during the twenty minute drive that took them from icy country lane to mansion gates. Katarina had heard about this place only once during her childhood, had seen it from the heath but had never dared venture into its overrun grounds. They entered the hidden garden through the foggy, wrought iron gates that led to Hareton Hall.

After a few minutes of walking across slippery grounds, strange, open-mouthed statues greeted Katarina at the grand entrance.

Her father had never allowed her to speak of the Spencers and especially not her uncle. But recently, she and her cousin Linus had connected via the web and Katarina was more than a little intrigued about the mysterious 'other half' of her family. The outside lights came on as they walked over the gravel towards the front door which was overrun with creepers.

Her father would be concerned about her late night visit to The Hall but Katarina was fed up with being wrapped in egg shells. She pulled the red shawl round her shoulders and stuffed her curls into her woollen cap, dragging it over her ears.

'Quick,' Heath said, rubbing his hands. 'It's frozen out here. Be careful of the ice.'

She took his arm, surprised at how hard and strong the muscles felt. She hadn't expected her workaholic uncle to be so welcoming.

'I give the staff leave on weekends, can't stand them about me and I usually work on Saturdays anyway,' he added, amiably enough. _Rude, arrogant, reclusive_ were all words she had heard in connection with this man. So far, he was nothing like his press.

Apart from a few cobwebs at the side of the stone entrance, which was covered with climbing plants, the interior of the hall was miraculous; turning a simple switch lit up grand chandeliers that led to a parlour, kitchen and vast hall and dining room. There was a series of ancestral portraits lining the walls to the right of the entrance - one of her mother. The interiors were lush but tasteful.

Heath wandered into the kitchen after they'd walked the length of the entrance.

Katarina was agog. She was used to being the richest girl at her all-girls' school but she had never seen such opulence. Her hand brushed the entrance hall side table and wall

of mirrors as they walked towards the drawing room.

'Ah, I see Greta's left a note. Greta was my housekeeper and she used to look after your mother and me…when we were little. She was not much older than we were. Seems funny now,' he mused as he found the key to the cabinet.

'Greta locks it, she gets worried when I drink alone,' Heath said, 'but I know where she hides the key.'

Katarina looked around her.

'Another drink?' Heath asked.

'Yes,' Katarina said.

'Something stronger?'

'Yes, please.'

'Brandy?'

'Okay.'

'Brandy is best on cold winter nights,' Heath chuckled to himself, pouring her less than he normally would, though she had officially reached legal drinking age. Katarina wondered if he was over the limit but his hand was steady as he carried the decanter into the Edwardian drawing room. Drinking brandy in the evenings was as normal to Heath as breathing.

'Was this once…a ballroom?' Katarina asked as she unwound her red scarf with the graceful moves of a ballet dancer.

'It was not,' Heath said, sitting easily on the black leather sofa.

'It is definitely big enough.'

'Funny. I remember thinking that when I arrived here the first time. Actually, the ballroom was upstairs. For some reason, the children's rooms were built connecting to it, so we often heard dancing - "partying" as you'd put it - loud noises, fighting. He noticed the look of surprise on Kate's face.

'Where's Linus?'

'Not home yet, apparently. Probably at a dance club.'

'Oh. I met him once, online.'

'How modern,' Heath mused.

Heath checked his text as the wind started to howl and announce its presence in a storm. The rain trickled down slowly at first, like water on tin, then the storm gushed through the

open window, spraying its fury over the low table and threatening a vase of flowers. Katarina moved to hold it upright.

Heath's phone beeped, relaying a text.

'That's Linus. He won't be home for an hour or so; nice of him to let me know. To be honest Katarina, I thought you might be a…good influence on my son.'

Heath pulled the window down as far as it would go, shutting out most of the storm.

'Why? Is he out of control?' Katarina joked.

Heath turned to look at the girl squarely.

'He is spoiled, Katarina, and weak. I fear I may have indulged him.'

Katarina glanced at the photographs on the wall. She wasn't sure how to respond to his directness.

'But you have another…son?'

'Oh, that's Harrison's wife's brother, Hinton. He lives here and works in the evenings. You may have already met him. He studies at the same college,' Heath said, starting to feel the familiar tightness in his arms. He'd need to feed and take his medication soon.

Katarina had told Heath during the car trip all about where she studied.

'I've heard about him,' she said, reluctant to tell Heath about his nephew's reputation. The girl looked around and sighed as the storm and the darkness swamping the confines of The Hall seemed to embrace her. Heath was taken aback at the image she made in the half-light, so similar to the photographs he had of Kate, tucked away in his wardrobe. The need to take his vitamins and drink Magenta overcame Heath. He quickly excused himself and began to walk out of the room.

'I'll get some photographs,' he offered. 'Should keep you busy until Linus returns at some unearthly hour. I'm not even sure which club he's gone to but once he's out he doesn't come home until late. I could drive you back to The Grange, but to be honest, we should wait for the weather to clear.'

'Of course,' Katarina said. There was obviously no choice since storm warning, news flashes were being broadcast. Heath turned to leave the room and Katarina flicked the switch on the flat screen and turned on some music instead. Something old and classical, Katarina thought. The low lighting flashed once and then the power went completely: no television, no CD, no sound except the thrashing of water on trees.

'I'll get the candles,' Heath offered. 'I know where Greta keeps them,' he added.

'Okay.'

Kate froze. The house was way creepier in the dark.

Moments later, Heath came back with lamps for each of them.

'Old-fashioned, I know, but they work.'

It occurred to Heath that from outside the window any stranger could see him entertaining a young female. Of course, they'd have to make it past the vast security on the neighbouring property, which he also owned, to find this place. Still, the thought suddenly bothered him as he pulled the curtains. His intentions for this girl had nothing to do with forming any kind of connection with her. She was merely the final piece in the jigsaw puzzle that formed his bizarre life, if that's what it was called.

He was determined not to let her realize she was trapped. The girl must want to stay, he thought, at least for now. He wondered how to get her to agree, as he stopped in the kitchen and took his medication mixed with protein powder. Heath was able to drink a variety of blood but tonight he felt like 0-negative. He glanced out the window as he guzzled, noting the heaviness of the rain. The dark, vicious winters fuelled his fantasies… and his nightmares. When he finished drinking, he thought he should find the photographs first - distract the girl.

He'd heard the neighbours at the pub gossiping about Hareton Hall but their stories had never bothered him until now.

He ventured into Kate's old room in the half-light and opened the door to her wardrobe which was a converted spare room. Her things had barely been touched since they'd been packed away when Kate had left The Hall forever. He was tall and could easily reach the top shelf but her many shoes had been piled together. There was a loud crash as some folders tumbled down in front of him.

_Blast that boy_, he thought. Of course Hinton had been in here rummaging through their old school texts and files. People often wondered why he'd adopted Hinton from Harrison as a six year old, but he never liked to comment publicly on family matters. He didn't believe in filling the gossip columns with his motives and every minute detail of his family

life though people in cyberspace now did. It was bad enough that the many girlfriends he'd had over the years since his wife left him had talked about him publicly. Heath felt social networking sometimes degenerated into an excuse for public one-upmanship and he wanted no part of that. But then, he had more than most to hide.

He wondered what the boy could possibly have been looking for in the room that now housed a filing cabinet in the corner. He recalled a recent conversation with Greta as he rummaged…

'Let's be honest Heath, I'm fed up with your haphazard lifestyle. I promised to stay until the children were raised and they're grown up now…almost. They don't need me anymore and nor do you. Everything's under control.'

'Don't leave us, Greta.'

'That's not the point Heath. The place itself is just _filled _with ghosts. I don't mean literally, I mean from the past…and you should think about selling it…for your own good. I have my own children to raise, Heath. Move on. Get married again. Start anew. Put away the old ways, Heath. Revive yourself. That's my advice, for all the good it will do…'

Heath had looked at her as if she were mad. He'd even had the house redecorated just to please her and had converted the drawing room into a room of Edwardian taste bathed in blue light, a blue-seeming flame in the fireplace, candles and candelabras and lush crystal chandeliers. The lounge room had been updated from its 80's look to the modern era with sunken leather furniture and various reference journals and magazines lining the covered shelves. Heath had always refused to take down the portraits.

'I tell you Heath, living in the past is no good for anyone,' Greta had told him.

'You don't know the half,' he'd said dismissively as he walked down the stairs and out the door to the office building he worked in (and owned) deep in the City of London.

On this night, he turned up the paraffin lamp to find what he was seeking and reached to grasp it.

Meanwhile, Katarina, who felt a little like a trapped bird waiting out the storm which had begun in earnest, wandered over to the fire and started going through a pile of old CDs (there were even some old vinyl albums!) which lay around the edges of the brick. Her cousins mostly liked the same music although both of them seemed to be more into "house" than she was.

She was glad her father, a kind man, had taught her to appreciate all musical styles over the years even though he'd insisted on piano lessons to fill The Grange with the music that had left it, along with her mother. Katarina noticed the grand piano gathering dust in the corner and imagined her mother, Kate, once playing it.

Katarina remembered her mother's face from photographs. She had been so young when she had Katarina, only eighteen. Katarina glanced into the glass above the fire. The girl realised, as she rubbed the life back into her cold cheeks, that her mother had been the same age as she was now; the same age as her uncle would remember her.

Weary from the long day and warmed with brandy, Katarina slumped on the couch. It was a good thing she didn't need to go back to college tomorrow, or anywhere, really. The rain and hail began to pelt down forming sleet outside the window. She texted her father, so he wouldn't worry. There was no need to fill him in on the details. He'd assume she was with friends. Besides, it would be foolhardy to travel on the country roads just now, though the haunted interiors of this opulent palace made her feel like a trapped bird.

**Chapter Eight**

_**Winter Nights**_

Finally, Heath shone the torch on the dusty old shoe box he was looking for.

'This should satisfy her imagination,' he thought.

Inside lay a pile of photographs, taken pre-digitally, tied in a bundle with a red ribbon. The photographs were of the Spencers, as children, at the local primary school and playing together on Hampstead Heath. There were more taken at boarding school in Scotland. They had not been looked at or moved for almost twenty years and the top of the box was thick with dust, but other than that, the photographs were in remarkably good condition.

Heath rubbed his arms. He could anticipate need now, the need for his medication, the need for blood. Heath could feel the surge of want and desire in his venom. The tightness in his calves and wrists would move through his body as his strength seemed to decrease physically. He'd neglected his pint of blood this evening, which he always drank before eight pm, but then he'd never had visitors to distract him. He looked at the photograph in his hand.

'Your beautiful face,' Heath whispered, fingers tracing the paper outline of her jaw as he held the edge of the torch in his mouth He dropped it when he heard the dog bark and the girl cry out. He rushed down the stairs to the drawing room.

Rain streamed in through the broken window creating a fast-growing puddle of water in the drawing room. He walked over to block the window with a chest of drawers as the girl shrank into the corner of the wall…

'I… I went to close the shutter and someone tried to grab my hand.'

Heath paused.

'You must have imagined it Katarina. It was the wind and the rain. The winds are strong; it's so isolated out here. A noise sounds louder than it really is. Shadows seem like people. Now, calm yourself. Here, take a seat and have a sip of your drink. I'll make some tea.

Katarina sat on the couch, shocked and shaken.

'How did you do that? Move the chest so easily? Pull down the window as if it was as light as a feather?'

Heath finished his drink and paused.

'It's not as heavy as it looks'

The answer seemed to satisfy Katarina who continued, 'The fingers, they were so cold…her skin was…white. She wore a nightgown.'

'Honestly Katarina, you sound like you've read too many horror stories…'

'Suddenly, I feel like I'm living one.'

'Only suddenly?' Heath said sarcastically. 'You wouldn't be the first to say that. I'm thinking of selling it…. But nevertheless, it's not safe to leave now.'

'It's not safe to stay…'

'Nonsense…mind plays tricks in here. I'll take you home the minute the storm finishes or morning comes…whichever arrives first.'

Katarina sighed as Heath smiled and helped her to her feet. Her father had clearly exaggerated. No stranger could have been more welcoming.

Heath smiled again as he settled a mohair rug around the girl. Katarina accidentally touched his hand and was shocked. His palm was as cold as ice. He withdrew his hand quickly and rubbed his fingers together.

'Thank you,' Katarina said, pretending not to notice. Little did she know what an effort it was to play nice. Heath had managed to take a few more sips of blood in his bedroom before going to find the photos and was feeling somewhat revived. He had no attraction to this girl's blood. In any case, it was strange. He hadn't even thought of drinking her, especially as he was hungry. He'd trained himself to withhold when it came to people he liked or met as friends. Perhaps this came from being "mixed-race". Heath's specialist had once considered him that rarest of things; a vampire-human hybrid. Now, he felt more vampire than hybrid.

'I aim to please,' he said cheerily, aware how bland he sounded. He handed her the photograph album as he spoke. 'We open the grounds to visitors in the summer now that…my wife has left and the children have grown up. I usually move to the Southern Hemisphere and enjoy the winter in New Zealand (Heath wanted to add, _'It's cold there when it's hot here and there's an endless supply of animal protein and blood and no one asks any questions_.') Instead, he used the open house story as an excuse, adding, 'I was…opposed to it at first, but the visitors bring in extra revenue and I don't have to put up with them… and, it all goes to a good cause - my charity for abandoned children…'

Her uncle sat opposite her now, sipping his brandy as he discussed the plight of orphans.

How could a man who was involved in charitable causes be as bad as her father had said?

The phone rang. Heath picked up the receiver. He spoke curtly as Katarina poured over the photographs on her lap.

'That was Linus,' Heath added, after he hung up. 'He's been caught up in the West End and Hinton is working late at the studio. He goes to evening classes sometimes. I just got a text. They don't speak to me usually. Apparently, I spent too much of my energy on work when they were growing up and now they don't want to know me.' Heath rationalized this partial lie as easier than the truth.

Katarina looked intently at the photographs of two children dressed up formally for a family function in the grounds of Hareton Hall. They looked like twins apart from the fact that one was a little taller than the other.

'That's us, when I first came to live with the Spencers,' Heath said.

'You both look…so sweet,' Katarina said. 'I was wondering…why didn't my father like you?'

Heath paused, wondering how much to tell the girl.

'He didn't like me because he thought he was better than me…it's as simple as that.'

The girl shook her head incredulously. 'Oh…but my father would never…'

'It…was different then. Everything was different.'

Heath smiled. Katarina noticed his perfect, white teeth.

'It's late, we can continue our discussion at a later date,' Heath added, rising from his chair.

It bothered him slightly to have her in the house all night, not because he cared what anyone would think but… well, for reasons which had already become obvious. The house itself…was unreliable, strange… creepy. His desires were manageable. He was determined she would not discover his secret but the girl had made an accurate assessment of hidden forces that swirled through the hall like ghosts.

'When was this taken?' Katarina asked as Heath stood up.

The girl held the photograph of two children, the boy with an untucked shirt, messy hair and wayward striped tie, and the girl, standing up straight with knee high white socks and braids. The boater hat sat atop her perfectly styled hair.

Heath looked at the photo dismissively.

'First day of boarding school, Greta took us to the train. We each had trunks with our names engraved on them in gold.' Heath smiled at the memory.

'Really…I didn't know you and mother went to school together.'

'We didn't…not really. There was a boys' school and a girls' school. They shared the same playing fields.'

'Did you meet up in secret then?'

He suddenly tired of Katarina's constant questions and wanted someone else to distract her. He didn't expect her to be so smart, or to like her, even a little. Perhaps she had more of her mother in her than her father.

'Sometimes,' he said warily, 'Kate…your mother…came to my football games.'

The storm howled outside as if to prove a point. Heath walked heavily over to the bay windows and checked the locks from the inside to prevent the incessant rattle which shook the room in the dark. Usually, it drizzled here but tonight was different. Tonight reminded him of Scotland and the stormy night his band played in the school hall for the first time.

'I like this photograph,' Katarina said. 'I've never seen it before. Where did she get the outfit?'

Kate stood on the stairs of a ballroom in a beautiful, low-cut, pink satin drop-waisted dress wearing high heels, tassels on the knee length hem and a sequinned choker around her head. 'It was the school formal, I suppose they call it a "prom" on those American TV shows,' he said dismissively. 'The theme of the occasion was 1920s,' he warmed to the memory, 'The band I was in tried playing jazz, dressed as gangsters. We thought we were so cool. Your mother, Kate, was determined to be the centre of attention that night…' Heath looked at the photograph and smiled.

As if reading his thoughts, Katarina said, 'Wearing that dress, I bet she succeeded.'

**Chapter Nine**

_**Sixteen**_

Kate had gone to buy the dress on one of their rare Saturday mornings in Edinburgh. They were sixteen and Kate was determined to drag Heath into town with her to pick up the dress. He pretended not to care because he hated shopping but secretly enjoyed having Kate as his exclusive companion during their journey. He'd grown older and stronger in their years at boarding school. He was managing his condition, and no one except Kate had ever guessed.

The boy enjoyed any excuse for freedom outside the school grounds. He didn't see Kate at all during school hours. Although he'd hated being sent away at first, he found the regimented atmosphere of sports and lessons suited him more than he ever imagined it would. Being able to climb higher, jump faster, bat harder and kick longer in games gave him an edge and made him popular with other boys, but it wasn't them he wanted to impress most.

Heath pretended it was an imposition as the note was delivered to his class. He and Kate arranged to meet, catch the bus and have lunch in an old-fashioned tea room (Heath would have preferred lunch at the pub, obviously, but this compromise meant he'd just have to pick the meat off the sandwiches). Besides, to impress Kate, he wanted to go along with her wishes.

Edinburgh on Saturday morning in April was a jostling, architecturally spectacular city. The light was low, like London but the open wind made it pleasantly colder. Heath wished he could have driven the car he'd been saving to buy from the "business" he ran after lights out. All of the boys from his boarding house were involved in a betting game related to the school fixtures. Heath would have been suspended, or worse, if it was discovered they were using real money to bet. The game had been running for more than a year and Heath, as bookmaker, was making a handsome profit. With his winnings, Heath and Kate could have taken a car if he'd been allowed to drive but the school (stupid school that it was in relation to rules) forbade it.

Heath would have ignored the rule, like most of the other rules at the school, if it hadn't been so difficult to break without being noticed. He was careful not to draw too much attention to himself. Being taller, faster, smarter and better looking (according to Kate) than other boys, made this difficult. Because boys placed less value on looks and more on accomplishment, they didn't dislike him as much as they would have if they'd all been girls and one outshone the others. Really, his mates looked up to him in a way he was sure they wouldn't, if they knew the truth. He kept his medication hidden. He kept his drinking supplies (type O in secluded plastic packages from the blood bank) in a locked, private fridge that (as house captain) he had exclusive access to. The school nurse was told as little as possible. She thought Heath had a rare condition and relayed instructions from his doctor without telling anyone or asking too many questions.

Edinburgh wasn't home to him but he had grown fond of the city. He thought one day he and Kate might live there or maybe New York or London if she had a preference. Anywhere dark and cold but populated would be good. They both liked entertainment and crowds they could blend in to. He glanced at Kate sitting beside him on the bus. Neither of them had their head phones on, preferring each other's silences to music. He looked at her profile, her perfect features and warm smile, her fragile collarbones leading to her neck.

He tried to stop the thought. Yes, her smile was beautiful, though he'd never told Kate this but it was her body and soul he wanted to possess, just as she possessed his, in theory. The warmth of her skin, her blood - intangible and unknown - was a perfect mystery to him. He tried to avoid staring longingly at the tiny rippled vein above her shirt collar. Heath inched his hand across without looking at her. When she laced her warm fingers around his gloved ones, as they approached the main cobbled street, the venom in his veins pulsed.

Kate always asked after him in a whisper. _How was he feeling? Not too weak or strong? Not tired or sleepy? Weird? _(Always weird!) _Did he need her to go with him to see a specialist? No_.

Heath insisted he was as normal as possible. He wanted no fuss. They were discovering new treatments constantly and he was perfectly fine; he'd be okay…just like her. Only, he knew he was nothing like her. Not really - apart from their obvious physical resemblance which, creepily, made others assume a biological connection that didn't exist.

Kate smiled. She loved the fact that, lately, her attention seemed to make Heath nervous. It was strange and unexpected and thrilling; he'd agreed to come with her to pick up her dress. They came into town only when they got a leave pass, and she knew Heath disliked shops. There was no way he'd do this for just anyone, least of all Annabelle Hunt. To say Kate wasn't really fond of Annabelle was an understatement. Kate did not place huge value on female friendship and Annabelle had a job ahead of her trying to befriend Kate. Kate often outshone other girls her age and had been brought up around boys. Besides, Kate was still getting over the fact that the Hunts had been sent to the same boarding school. In any case, Kate felt she had little in common with other teenage girls. Many had tried to befriend her, briefly, only for Kate to discover their real desire was to become close to Heath.

It had taken Kate ages to get used to seeing the Hunts every day at school. She suspected it was harder for Heath who understandably harboured a grudge against them. Kate knew if they ever found out who… or what Heath really was, they'd be shocked. They might even shun him. Kate didn't want Heath to have to go through that. She didn't want to give the other girls and boys a chance to reject him. He was hers, Kate thought possessively as she linked her arm through his.

One day he would be fierce and fully grown. By then, there might not be laws discriminating against vampires. One day, Heath might be able to be honest about who he really was. But until then, it would be easier to stay in the shadows. Kate often read marginalized news items with titles like, _Blood Stocks Low_, and stories about the "threats on the London tube," and the "new hybrid species of humans" with "unidentifiable blood types", rumoured to exist. No one had ever come out as a hybrid…or a vampire, for fear of being ostracised.

The pair rounded the corner from the main street to the bus stop.

'C'mon,' Heath said, pulling Kate's hand. 'Let's get off here and walk the rest of the way.'

'Okay,' Kate replied. She wondered if he ever noticed how adoring she was in his company. Kate certainly hoped not. They had never kissed. Heath was worried it might get out of hand and he'd fang her before he controlled himself. He was not yet fully grown and might be so out of control he couldn't resist and Kate could end up missing a chunk out of her neck or worse.

Kate was secretive about her feelings for him or as secretive as she could be. How could he not notice that she worshipped every step he took, to a degree that both excited and scared her? She was glad to be wearing the jeans and new jumper she'd ordered from a London catalogue. She was dressed fashionably but Heath barely looked. He was too busy hungrily glancing into the eyes of strangers.

Together, they reached the shops in double quick time. These days, Heath seemed to almost merge through crowds. He could look into her eyes, and she would know what he wanted before he'd even said it. They were becoming twin souls.

'This is good,' Heath said. 'The people traffic isn't too dense. We can get this over with and then have some lunch before they call out the search and rescue dogs for us.'

Heath was always hungry.

'I thought you got…permission to come,' Kate said.

'No…ah, not exactly,' Heath said. He'd handed in an unfinished assignment and had been asked to stay back on Saturday and complete it. Heath liked to bend the rules and had climbed out the window. Kate shrugged, knowing the teachers liked him too much for him to ever get into serious trouble. She was secretly thrilled he'd risked a further detention for her.

Together, they rounded the corner of a laneway and walked past a fish and chip shop that sold deep fried fish, chicken and… chocolate bars?

'I've always wanted to try one of those,' Kate said as she walked into the boutique next door.

'Your every wish must be granted. Wait there,' he said.

Kate loved it when Heath said things like that, flattered her and made a joke of her vanity. He ran into the shop and ordered two battered treats; he returned minutes later as Kate wrapped tightly in her long coat, hovered outside the shop. Heath held two wrapped packages. He gave Kate the first one; a battered chocolate bar with soft caramel oozing in the centre, whilst he chomped on the other - deep fried chicken. Kate's coat bag was draped carefully over her arm as they sat in the bus shelter and ate hungrily.

'Mmm… yummy,' Kate said.

'Like I said, your every wish is my command.'

'Nothing but the best for me, hey Heath…' Kate joked.

'I thought that was what you wanted…' the boy said, suddenly worried he had misread her.

'Of course, this is one of the highlights of my sixteen years…'

'Mine too…' Heath said, smiling. Heath had the nicest smile Kate had ever seen, the thickest brown hair and the kindest eyes. His teeth were perfect, (although she missed his little fangs, retracted so long she hadn't seen them in years). Kate looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring at his mouth.

Moments later, Kate screamed as a bus sped by and the water in the gutter splashed them. In seconds, water pools swirled around their feet and the edges of their jeans were soaked in muddy rain.

'Oh well,' Kate said, 'I suppose they can be dry cleaned…'

Heath looked at her, the warmth of his smile suddenly making even the cold weather feel less inclement. He moved closer. Kate could nearly feel his breath. The boy opened up his coat, snug and larger than hers and enveloped her in its dry warmth. Rain tumbled down from the sky. Heath's body temperature these days was not cold but he always seemed to need an extra jumper.

'This is Edinburgh for you,' Heath said. 'Quick…'

They moved from the bus stop, which was largely uncovered, to the shelter of the shop front. In the fading afternoon sun, Kate leaned in and kissed Heath, softly on the mouth. Heath was surprised and soon they were covering each other in sweet, warm kisses.

At first, Heath was reluctant. After Kate kissed him he leaned back hesitantly. Heath managed to kiss Kate again without wanting to drain the blood from her neck and felt only mild discomfort in his veins.

The discomfort soon turned to bliss. Being around her for so many years made control possible…just; he'd taken his medication while he waited for her. This "control" was a revelation to him. They kissed again. Heath suddenly pushed her away, feeling the tiny pang of his extending incisors.

'I'm…sorry,' Kate said.

'It's…it's not your fault. I'm just…'

'I know,' Kate whispered, turning his face to hers.

The boy shyly reached his gloved hands under her coat. Heath pulled Kate closer to him - so close she felt, for a moment, unable to breath. The depth of their affection scared her. She lowered her arms into him, stayed locked in his embrace and just as quickly pushed him away.

'I…I didn't expect us to be so…'

'What?' Heath said, unsurprised by the extraordinary feelings he felt. Alarmed she might be rejecting him, he suddenly felt his incisors extending again and turned his face away, ashamed.

'Look at me,' Kate said. He retracted his fangs fully in that moment before doing so, proving to himself that control was completely possible.

'I don't want us to have any secrets. I was going to say…good. Together we are so…'

'Bad?' he smiled. Heath leaned in towards her as they waited for the downpour to stop. Wrapped in each other's arms, they were glad to miss the first bus back to school.

**Chapter Ten**

_**Hinton**_

'It's late… ' Heath said, changing the subject as Katarina took another sip of tea.

It was past midnight and the storm hadn't subsided.

'Do you mind if I stay the night?'

Heath was mildly surprised but glad he hadn't had to make the suggestion.

'Of course not, I don't know when or even if the boys will be home, but there are six guest rooms and Greta should be in at eight in the morning. Take your pick. I'm just going to stay here by the fire, go through a few papers. I have a business meeting in the City tomorrow. Even though it's Saturday, some of the foreign markets don't sleep.'

'Mmm…' Katarina said. Normally she would have felt odd staying in a stranger's house. Before it was her uncle's it had, after all, been her mother's. Katarina was surprised Heath had become so traditional. He'd once dreamed of being a rock star according to a letter her mother had written (the only one that she had been allowed to read and keep).

Katarina gazed at her mother's portrait in the hallway. How was it possible to look so similar to a person you didn't know?

'Thank you. I just texted my father and he thinks I'm staying with my friend - the girl you met in the pub.'

'Blonde one, long hair?'

'Yes, that one,' Kate regularly excused Stacey's flirtatious behaviour.

Heath nodded, making himself seem more amiable than he was. He tried to imagine he hadn't dreamed of sinking his teeth into the blonde girl's neck and draining her until she shuddered.

'I was wondering if I could sleep in my mother's old room?'

Heath hesitated, but he knew refusal would put her off guard.

'Well…um, I don't think Greta has the bed made up.'

'Which one is it?'

'First right, top of the stairs, but…' He could feel his muscles tightening; he needed his medication and perhaps some protein from the larder…

'That's okay; I'll just take this…' Katarina gestured to the checked mohair blanket that had been wrapped around her. Before Heath could utter another word, she said good night and was bounding half way up the creaking staircase, two steps at a time, revealing her youth.

It would be a long night, Heath thought, as he finished his pint of Magenta and took some extra capsules. The storm water pelted down on the sill in the drawing room as the lights suddenly flashed. The dog jumped up and howled. His ears were alert to the unfamiliar sound of music playing from Kate's old bedroom.

'Settle,' Heath warned.

The dog nuzzled his head under his paws and softly growled instead. He sensed a person approaching.

Outside, Hinton, Heath's adopted son, walked alone towards the house. He was grown now, hunched over his plastic-wrapped package. It was his latest completed canvas, carefully covered. Hinton had lived at Hareton Hall since his sister, Frances, had arrived with him in tow eighteen years ago. Now he had no family but Heath and Linus. The boy wore a blue scarf, brown coat and ski hat pulled down over his ears. He'd been in central London finishing his Art History class and then he'd stayed on to assist the tutor during a photography lesson. Hinton was one of the best students at Art College and made extra cash tutoring. The class had been developing film (in a dark room during their lesson in pre-digital camera work) and some students had then decided to go into the West End for drinks. Before he knew, it was almost daybreak.

The boy hated going home. His uncle was legally his adopted father but Hinton always called him Heath. Before Hinton went off to class, Heath had been in a surlier mood than usual and was always on at him about "making something of his life" and going to work in the City at the family firm. Hinton couldn't believe he expected so much of him when he expected absolutely nothing of his own son. Linus, who was blonde like his mother, did little else except socialize and run dance parties in abandoned fields.

Heath and Hinton had countless arguments about Hinton's "lack of direction." Hinton knew Heath liked to keep his family close by and didn't want either of his sons to leave home before they had finished studying. He was a difficult and unsociable parent but he was the only parent Hinton had since his own had died shortly after his birth. Franny had raised him until her desire to flee The Hall after Harrison's death overcame her. Hinton was in school then and The Hall became his holiday home. Greta, who had children of her own to care for, only came in three days a week now.

Heath rarely trusted new people enough to actually employ them so when staff left, they were not replaced. Over the years only Greta remained. Hinton couldn't really believe how he'd been trapped into his adopted father's lair, especially since Heath had never actually been demonstrative towards him during his childhood. But then, he'd never shown much love to his own son, either. Slowly, Hareton Hall had become his home. And it was all because of _her,_ Hinton thought. As he neared the house, the first picture to greet him in the hallway would be Kate Spencer's.

Hinton was sceptical about love partly because of the rumours that connected her to his adopted father. Besides, Hinton was nineteen and had a reputation to uphold. He enjoyed "playing the field" as Heath used to say in the old days. Since Art College had more female students than males, the odds were definitely in his favour. Even so, Hinton couldn't wait to get out of Hampstead for good. As he walked up the drive, along the old stone road, shivering in the early hours of the morning, he considered the merits of leaving London. The borough was freezing and the cab from the station would only take him so far along the icy road now that the storm was subsiding. He often took the bus. There was nowhere to park in central London anyway and he hated asking Heath for money.

**Chapter Eleven**

_**Remember **_

Hinton was surprised that the lights were still on in the drawing room as he entered the house. The dog had slept by the fire until everyone else had gone to sleep. Then, he'd done as usual and wandered upstairs to lie at the foot of his master's bed.

The boy had removed his coat; he wore the latest sneakers and low rise jeans. Hinton wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. He hoped Greta had left something since. He was very hungry after hours of clubbing in Soho. He was often photographed there with various girlfriends, but lately, his shallow existence had begun to bother him. Perhaps he was more like his adopted father than he thought. The family photographs that filled the drawing room told barely half the story of its dysfunction.

Hinton shook his head at the pictures on the wall as he climbed the stairs. It was funny to him that Heath could give himself airs and graces but no one knew where he came from either. Heath could use the title bestowed upon him for "services to the economy" but that didn't make him a Lord, not in Hinton's eyes. He couldn't have cared less about titles but he thought it almost funny that he had to practically ask permission to live in his own house when his sister had more rights to it than Heath (who only owned the house because of a swindle…) but that was another story.

The boy was aware there were two sides to the family history. In the first version, Heath had "saved" him as a child from a vicious beating by his drunkard brother-in-law, Harrison. The other was contained in an apologetic note from Harrison years later. Truth lay somewhere in between. One thing Hinton knew for sure; Heath cheated Harrison out of his own home during a game of high-stakes poker.

There are always more sides to a story but this was the particular side that Hinton chose to believe. Before the bet, papers had been signed. Heath, the foundling child, had risen to become the rightful owner of Hareton Hall. Hinton grimaced in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth and splashed his face. His image was hazy with condensation. He rubbed the mirror with a towel and wiped his face dry. Hinton turned off the light and walked quietly to his room. Heath's light was on. As usual Hinton didn't bother to say goodnight. Instead, he flopped on his own bed fully clothed.

Heath wasn't so bad. He'd been more of a father than Harrison and treated him more like a biological son than the father he'd never met. Besides, unless he won the annual Art Prize at his college, he had nowhere else to go.

Hinton had flicked on the television news in his bedroom and was chugging orange juice and eating what was left of some roasted chicken, when he heard a piercing screech that made him walk into the hallway.

Doors flung open and Heath's dog bounded out of the main bedroom towards a room with blazing light under the door; a room that had never been used since his teenage aunt had inhabited it more than twenty years ago.

A dark-haired girl flung open the door and stood on the landing, looking pale and frightened in the half light. Hinton Spencer froze on the spot.

'Who are you?'

'I'm… I'm Katarina Hunt. You must be…'

'Hinton, your cousin by marriage, for all intents and purposes. I was adopted. Are you okay?'

'I don't know… I think I will be. Someone tried to get into my room.'

The boy, mesmerized by her white skin and red lips, stared at her longer than was necessary, then apologized, adding, 'sorry…it's just that you are identical to my…adopted Aunt…' He gestured to Kate's picture on the wall.

'May I?' Hinton said.

'Yes…come in, please.' Kate said with desperation in her voice. Hinton checked the cupboards and behind the curtains, even under the bed.

'There's nothing in here…'

A slight breeze wafted through the room, seemingly from nowhere.

'I…I met your Uncle, um Heath and I wanted to come back to see some old photos and the house my mother grew up in. Then the storm set in so I asked if I could stay the night and…I don't think Heath wanted me to stay and someone tried to get into my room."

Hinton looked around.

'The door was shut when I came up.'

Almost speechless, Katarina whispered, 'not through the door, through the window.'

Hinton wandered past the bed and towards the upstairs bay window. It was unlocked and unopened. He pulled it up. They were on the upper floor. Below, lay a stone pathway. The flower beds were a metre away from the walls and the trees even farther. It would not have been possible for anyone to climb up.

'There is no one there now,' Hinton said. 'Are you sure you didn't have too much to drink?'

'Are you serious? I know what I saw.'

Outside, the wind started to pelt down onto the trees. In the distance, an icy storm began to howl again.

'Tell you what,' Hinton said, smiling, 'Why don't you come into my room? I'll take the floor, of course, and you'll be safe until morning when I drive you home.'

Katarina looked at him hesitantly. This wasn't the cousin she was supposed to meet, though she'd heard about him often enough at Art College. Hinton was known as a real ladies' man, a guy who failed his A-levels and only got into college because of the brilliance of his drawings and a scholarship. Everyone knew his family were loaded. Hinton was a year ahead of her, so they'd seen each other in the halls but never spoken. He'd dated more than his share of girls at the college, and dumped them just as quickly.

Katarina reluctantly dragged her checked blanket off the bed and pulled on her jeans over her underwear as Hinton pretended to look away.

'C'mon, then,' Katarina said, as the storm raged outside.

Hinton couldn't believe his luck. He started walking towards his room when he realised the girl had taken a wrong turn.

'I'm going to sleep in the drawing room,' Katarina said. 'Perhaps, you could come with me?' She was still pretty scared after the earlier incident, though she'd never admit it and Hinton had all but convinced her she was dreaming.

"Mmm, give up my bed for a hard couch?" For a minute she thought he was going to refuse.

'Why not?' he said with his most affable smile. 'We can pretend we're on a camping holiday.' Although her likeness to her mother threw him momentarily, Hinton was beginning to like this new cousin.

Heath was able to sleep through practically anything but lately he'd been woken up at all hours. He'd drunk three glasses of brandy before bed and fallen into an almost trancelike state reading the stock reports and going through some important files in relation to an upcoming merger. He'd been out hunting squirrels and rabbits again. He'd swiftly scaled the outside wall so no one would notice him coming back or leaving. Disgusted, he wiped the blood from his mouth, rinsed and brushed his teeth before bed.

Though he dimly heard the sound of a woman's scream it faded just as quickly and the only change in his vast, kingly bedroom was the blurry sight of his dog's ears standing up. He crawled under his duvet. Heath slept a few hours every night. After his maturity, at twenty-one, he hadn't slept at all. But recently, he'd started falling into a deep slumber in the early hours of the morning. He reached over for his newly prescribed elixir. There were many underground markets now and different products for both vampires and hybrids that hadn't been available to Heath in his youth. After he chugged some Magenta (a new elixir), he fell back into a deep sleep. The dog whimpered and snuggled at his feet like she always did when he woke.

In the dark he heard a woman's voice, clear as glass.

"Heath… Heath…" the girl whispered to him. Then, her hand reached over and shook him awake.

Dark hair fanned across his ear, irritating him and interrupting his dream, which was more than a dream. Heath opened his eyes and saw the perfect brown eyes of another and heard Kate's pleading voice as he reached out to touch her cheek.

'Heath,' the girl said. 'Forgive me for what I did. I've been away for eighteen years. Please come back to me, I have missed you. It's so cold out here…come back to me…come back…Let me in. I've been in the in-between for so long…'

**Chapter Twelve **

_**The Cottage**_

Heath disappeared most evenings at school. Kate knew he went hunting. He'd be back for band rehearsals, he had promised her. He'd been counselled by his doctor. Kate was sure he practised being 'safe', which meant only drinking wild animals and never more than he needed to survive. Magenta, drunk in the interim, ensured he was not tempted by humans; nor would he be, unless his vampiricism developed fully. This was a roll of the dice, according to his specialist. They wouldn't know if he was a full bloodsucker until he reached eighteen. In the meantime, his diet subsisted only of protein, citrus, Magenta and plasma delivered via special order from London once a week. Blood oranges were still his favourites.

Tomorrow night, the inter-school Battle of the Bands competition was to be held as part of the Sixth Form dance. Kate and a few others, including Annabelle Hunt, were factored into the front row as audience members or "fake fans", as Kate joked. Annabelle had made such an effort to be friends with Kate that the girls were now talking and Annabelle had hesitantly been accepted into Kate's circle of popular girls.

Those girls were sitting in the front row. The band hoped they wouldn't be sitting there long. Tonight, they wanted everyone in the room up dancing. Heath would be lying if he said he didn't like the fact that a lot of girls paid him attention. He was tall with dark hair and had a "mysterious" look about him. He'd heard Annabelle giggling and whispering about him to his friends once. He still disliked the Hunts but he enjoyed female attention in all its forms and it didn't pay to display open warfare towards Annabelle's older brother, Edmund. He'd tried that in his first year at boarding school and all his privileges had been withdrawn. He hadn't seen Kate in over a week.

There was only one girl whose opinion truly mattered to him and she sat front row centre as the band played her favourite cover. Afterwards, everyone rushed off to supper but Heath and Kate had plans.

As Heath packed away his guitar, the drummer, who fancied Kate, smiled at her.

'Did you like your song, Kate? We played it especially for you…'

Heath rolled his eyes, jealously.

'I more than enjoyed it,' Kate replied but she was looking straight at Heath when she spoke.

Heath had a good singing voice. He and his band were the coolest – some said most dangerous boys at school – by far. Although Kate was proud of Heath's ability to assimilate, it had begun to annoy her to see other girls paying Heath so much attention and the last thing she wanted to do was let him know how great he was. That would create too much of an ego problem.

'I mean, it was better than okay,' she covered.

'That was your song,' Heath said.

Kate couldn't help but smile. Heath knew what she liked so well.

Heath pretended not to care and smiled at Annabelle Hunt as she gathered her things, much to Kate's annoyance. Heath made sure Kate noticed how much Annabelle Hunt flirted with him. When he became bored with Annabelle's conversation mid-sentence, Heath turned from her and walked over to demand Kate's undivided attention. Kate paused and glanced into Heath's eyes. It was obvious to strangers they had a connection that went beyond words.

When they were alone, Kate tugged at Heath's shirt and gave him the lamb sandwich she'd made in the kitchen especially for him. They were having a roast today at the girl's school and Kate knew it was Heath's favourite. He thanked her, pulled off the lamb, wolfed it down then left the bread. Heath was always starving these days. It was as if none of the food he ate satisfied him.

'C'mon, I also bought us tea…' Kate had her flask and some more lamb and chicken wrapped in a satchel. Heath grimaced, but realised weak tea kept him hydrated. Kate was always trying to look after him, even though they'd be seeing each other less now that they were both studying for half-term finals.

'You really did rock, Heath,' she whispered, looking up at him when she said it. He tried not to beam so hard. He grew happy and less prideful under her gaze but he held back from saying what he wanted to say. Heath wanted to tell Kate Spencer how much he loved her but he couldn't. If he told her, he felt sure that she would torture him, use it against him and tease him more than she usually did. It was in her nature to be both a chameleon and contrite. He wouldn't say the words until he was sure she felt the same.

They agreed to meet at the cottage to study for their exams. They enjoyed meeting up, just to read and talk like they used to when they lived in London.

The cottage was a secret meeting place that had been used for decades by the students from both schools. Built into a stone wall that marked the outside gate of the shared sporting grounds, it could only be reached by running (or walking very quickly) far out of sight across the never ending playing fields and through a kind of dugout that led to an even more lush pasture.

The dwelling had been uninhabited for at least a decade. The hut had been built in the curve. High on the hill, it lay abandoned when no one had bothered to demolish it. Most of the students knew of its existence and it was the "go to" place for midnight feasts… and lover's meetings.

By the time Kate arrived, windswept and dishevelled, Heath had caught her up.

The interior of the cottage had recently been renovated by teenagers. There was evidence of junk food and discarded games, posters tagged on walls, various blankets and duvets rolled into a cupboard, and a well-used fireplace. It was the perfect spot for a winter picnic.

'Reminds me a little bit of Hampstead,' Kate said, looking out the window.

'Scotland reminds me of nothing in the South. It's…lonelier…wilder,' he said, rubbing his mouth when Kate couldn't see. He suddenly needed his incisors filed but he wasn't going to admit it. Only Heath could feel the sharp tips of the teeth inside his mouth, reminding him of his true nature. Kate placed the food on the red checked table cloth over the low coffee table as Heath lit the fire. The boy hungrily demolished the roast chicken from Kate's satchel as the girl looked on in amusement. She spread out the board game on the floor. The pair of them began playing Scrabble in their usual competitive way until Kate, bored with the game, messed up her side with the pieces tumbling across the floor amidst a cloud of laughter.

'This is such a boring game,' she said. 'I've never understood why I can't make up words… '

She leaned over towards him. Heath felt unexpectedly nervous, but tried to act cool.

'What sort of words?'

'Oh, you know. Words they don't teach us at school…' Kate smiled wickedly then changed the subject.

'I am so bored with classes but I can't wait to see your band perform tomorrow night. I miss Hampstead. I miss the glass house where we used to go… to hunt for food…and flowers…'

Kate loved flowers. She'd even given Heath some edible ones once, when he was little, which he'd duly tried to eat. Kate rolled onto her back and stared up at the low beamed roof. Heath looked bashful. The fire flickered, creating artistic shadows of the pair on the inside of the cottage.

'I think we should play a different game…' Kate said.

Heath looked at Kate incredulously, as he turned the page of his History text. He hadn't expected this.

Kate reached over and stroked his hair. He could still feel the touch of her fingers, moments later. Overwhelmed, he took her hand in his and used all of his willpower to stop himself pulling her to him and fanging her. He didn't want to mess things up with Kate before they were ready. Heath ached for her loveliness; she was part of him more than anything or anyone ever could be or would be. When he thought of his biological family, he was dismissive of them. He didn't remember their faces. Besides, they had abandoned him when they discovered he was a bloodsucking freak; just as his friends would probably turn on him, if they knew the truth.

He dropped his pen and changed the subject. 'What…what are your plans for next year?'

Kate laughed… 'Okay, we'll play your way. Let's see, if I wasn't going to be a famous painter, do you know what I'd be?'

'I don't,' Heath replied as she plaited her hair into a braid.

'Well, I love my horse so…I'd be a vet…and save the animals…'

'You'd have to study hard for that,' Heath said sarcastically, glancing back at the words on his page.

'What, don't you think I'm capable?'

Heath knew Kate could do anything she set her mind to, starting with gaining access to the school kitchen when he couldn't, but it wouldn't pay to compliment her right now. She was far more confident than he was.

'It's not that,' he hedged. 'I'm just not sure if you have the dedication,' he replied, turning his head so she couldn't see his smile.

'Oh, you…'

He reached over and caught her hand. Kate looked up at Heath with a devotion she quickly hid with words.

'Let me get closer to the fire. It's freezing in here…' Kate said.

Heath moved closer to her, closer to the flames which were weak, but turned and crackled forming a strong light.

Heath made the first move. He put his hand on Kate's hair and she held his gaze.

'Run away with me Kate.'

Kate laughed.

'When? Where to?'

'When we've finished school, after we turn eighteen. We could go to Prague or Paris or Spain.'

'What with?'

'We'll get jobs…'

'I can't just abandon everything…my family…'

'Apart from your father, they've abandoned us…

Kate considered this for a moment.

'I know. Harrison is…not to be trusted and mother lets him sign everything. He controls all her assets after she and father separated. She even signed half of the house into his name. Mother never did like responsibility.' Kate reached out to Heath and he leant over and kissed her wrist, softly, again.

Kate opened her eyes wide, suddenly seeing the future.

'Yes, let's do it. Let's go to Spain. I'll study art and design, though I once thought Paris might be the place for that. Never mind, I'm sure they have good design schools in Spain and you can…start a band… only we've no money, not a cent. It's just a fantasy, Heath. Ten minutes in another country without a roof over our heads and we'd be fighting all the time. And…'

'What?' He wanted her to say it but she wouldn't.

'…and liking each other less…'

'I could never like you less, Kate. There is no such possibility.'

'Why?'

'Because I love you.'

Kate liked it when he spoke like this, but it worried her. 'I know,' was all she said.

What she should have said, and what she later regretted not saying was that she also loved him. It was obvious. Her journals were testament to this. Each one covering a year in their lives together, written in schoolgirl writing, with train tickets and photographs taken on her polaroid when Heath was least expecting it, pasted into the pages. She kept the most recent one hidden under her bed. Her favourite photograph was one she took of Heath in his navy blue school blazer standing on the playing fields with a bemused look on his face, just as he realised she was the culprit – the school photo journalist.

Kate glanced longingly at Heath after he'd kissed her again. She looked into his perfect eyes and felt the hard cut of his arm muscles. This boy, soon to be a man, was everything to her. He was her whole life, the male version of herself. She knew to be wary, though - family neglect had taught her this; not to let him know her entire being was his to do with as he pleased. Kate sat up and glanced down at her shoe, resolving to change the subject.

Heath loved that about her - the two versions. In this version, Kate had fresh colour rising in her cheeks. He wanted to be closer to her, to touch the vein in her wrist, her neck, to kiss her lips, but he didn't dare move.

'I think you should take your studies more seriously, never mind about me. I could never love a man, who didn't know at least as much as me,' she joked as she packed up the chess pieces.

'Well, then, there are a great many men for you to love,' Heath replied with a raised eyebrow.

'Oh, you…' Kate threw one of the Scrabble pieces his way.

Heath laughed in return, loving that he could get to her so easily.

He had applied to various universities but he wasn't sure what he wanted. Beyond Kate's love, nothing. He'd gone through the motions, telling no one before now that he'd considered applying to Oxford. He'd organised teachers he knew would give him good references and because his marks were flawless, he had a reasonable chance of being accepted. He just had to pass the interviews. He'd studied every evening when he wasn't with Kate, and when he was, he studied late into the night. He wanted to achieve more than anyone he knew. More than anything, he wanted Kate to be proud of him.

They read some more and fell asleep beside the fire. When they woke the next morning, fully clothed, wrapped together under a pile of blankets, it was morning.

'C'mon,' Kate said, dusting off bread crumbs from her skirt, 'we don't want to miss chapel or they will notice and maybe stop me going to the gig tonight. Someone could report us…'

Heath rolled his eyes. 'You mean Hunt.'

'Really, he's not that bad. I think he wants to be your friend. Actually I think Annabelle is quite keen on you. You better be careful, Heath. Those secretive, silent girls are the worst with their little schoolgirl crushes…'

'Is that what you have on me?'

'Silly, I'm not the silent, secretive type,' Kate said.

It wasn't the answer Heath wanted to hear.

'Well, you never had to be.'

Heath turned with the coat and handed Kate her scarf.

'How can you joke like that Kate?'

'What? I'm just kidding.'

'How could you think there is anyone for me apart from you?'

'I…I think you like me too much. It will distract you from getting good marks in your finals.'

'Am I hearing things? Listen to yourself Kate. I don't "like" you too much. There is no "like" here.

Kate looked away, aware of the depth of her feelings for the handsome boy that stood opposite her. Over the past year, he'd grown a head taller than her. She had to look up in the morning half-light to meet his eyes. Again, she looked away.

'Look at me Kate.'

'I know most girls think you're hot.'

'Oh, so you're saying you don't?'

'Those girls don't know you, like I know you,' Kate said slowly. Before Kate was forced to answer, the door blew open as one of the younger students arrived, out of breath. 'Come quick,' he said, '… they're taking the register. They know someone broke into the kitchen last night and stole some chickens and the headmaster is going ballistic.'

Kate giggled while Heath grabbed their coats as they prepared to run. It would be wiser to attend roll call, or else it would be completely obvious they'd been out all night; and then Mr Spencer would be informed, or worse.

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**Linus**_

Katarina woke in the living room but she did not feel refreshed. The girl stepped quietly past her sleeping cousin and headed upstairs to retrieve her shoes. Much to her surprise, a shard of sunlight was shining through the floor length window of the room. The storm had subsided, leaving a wreck of mud and branches across the grounds of the estate. The girl pulled on her jumper and brushed her hair. The ancient brush looked like it had been passed down through many generations of the Spencer family. Katarina discovered some toothpaste in an old-fashioned bathroom. Upon scrutiny of her image in the mirror, she changed her mind and decided to take a shower. Katarina leaned in closely to the mirror, noticing the dark circles under her brown eyes, betraying her lack of sleep.

'Hello, how are you?'

The voice made her jump.

'You might have knocked.'

'Oh, no need to cover up. I've seen it all before,' Linus said breezily. 'I work in a theatre – stage management. You look as if you've seen a ghost.'

'Is that meant to be a joke?'

'Oh, you noticed it too…'

'What?'

'Last night, curtains moving, lights flickering, noises in the dark…' He made a strange horror movie noise and laughed.

'There was a woman…a stranger trying to get into my room…'

'Oh people have been saying stuff like that for years…'

'You're not going to tell me…'

'Oh, I'm here to tell you, it's all true. I'd never bring my friends home. Place is seriously haunted…'

Katarina didn't know if he was joking or not, nor did she know what to say in response to Linus' quick wit and even quicker turn of phrase. She decided she had no choice but to run with it. She smiled - at least it felt safer with another human being in the room.

'But enough of the gloom and doom, I'm interning in a theatre on the West End. I'll get you a ticket to come and see the latest show if you like. It's pretty good. I also organise dance parties on the weekends. Father does not approve, as you can imagine. What about you?'

'I like music and painting. I go to Art College and take photographs.'

'Cool.'

Linus held out his hand to Katarina, and she shook it.

A boy with what could only be described as wild hair and the appearance of an 80's punk, smiled back at her in the mirror. He messed his hair with his hands.

'So, do you like my new look?' Linus asked.

'It's…interesting but I never saw your old one.' Katarina replied.

'You must be Kat, Heath's niece, the one we've never met. I have the illustrious honour of being Heath's son. How is the old man?'

'Well, he's not very…old.'

'No, I know. But I'm guessing he's still pretty grumpy.' He pulled a face. 'I always try to get out of the house early. Father hates the fact that I go off to Brighton with my mates every weekend and can't stand the thought of working in his stuffy financial firm. But he was so young when he had me. Really, his idea of becoming a parent at this point in my life is a bit of a joke… Mind?' Linus took Kat's tube of toothpaste.

'I brought my own toothbrush,' Linus said reassuringly.

Katarina laughed.

'Oh, I'm going to write down my web page. We should stay in touch. Heath is sure to lose it at some point this morning, or he might already be out with the horses. In any case, you're going to want to run away from this house and never return…just like all the women in this family do.'

'Surely, they didn't all run away. Not all of them.'

'Yes, all of them,' the boy said regretfully.

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.'

Linus quickly changed the subject.

'Get dressed. We're meeting Hinton for breakfast; he likes to sketch in the cafe. Sometimes I think he's aiming to draw every nook and cranny in Hampstead. He and I don't really get on. So, it'll be quite funny to turn up at his favourite breakfast hangout with you in tow. He takes all his notes and paper to draw people there. He's obsessed with capturing their images. I'm sure I can't see any point in that…' Linus said breezily.

Linus talked on and it was hard not to like him, with his easy way and humorous take on the world.

Greta called upstairs, 'and what would you both like for breakfast?'

'Nothing darling,' Linus said theatrically. 'I'm taking my cousin out. You're welcome to join us,' he added.

'No Linus, I only popped in to drop off the groceries,' Greta said warily.

'Bring you back one of those lovely frosted buns from the French bakery for morning tea, then, eh?' Linus said, dragging Katarina down the stairs with him.

'Oh, have you said goodbye to your father?'

'Goodbye? We haven't said good morning. He's out with the horses. Tell him I'll see him tonight.'

Greta rolled her eyes.

'And with a bit of luck,' Linus said under his breath, 'he'll be asleep by nine pm.'

Katarina laughed.

'He was…quite the gentleman around me.'

'Oh, that's just because you don't know him, yet.'

'I get the feeling our families never wanted us to meet,' Katarina said as they walked down the sunny driveway, slippery from last night's hail storm.

'Here, take these.'

Linus handed Katarina a pair of gumboots. They both carried their shoes in their hands.

'The calm after the storm. C'mon, I know a shortcut,' Linus said enthusiastically.

'Near my house?'

'Something like that,' the boy said as they walked through the sunken garden, across the heath, towards The Grange and past the private, hidden glass conservatory that was tucked behind the Summer House.

'My father used to come here… with your mother, when they were children.'

'I know,' Katarina said. 'I'm reading her journal. I found it under the bed last night.'

Linus looked shocked. 'Oh, that must be another one,' he said, reaching for the diary.

'Not until I've read this one,' Katarina replied. 'I'm only on page eighteen…but sometimes I think this is the place she was happiest.'

Her cousin shrugged. 'Just up ahead, past the conservatory on our left, past the fancy house on the corner, is our café.'

Linus took Katarina's arm and she suddenly felt adopted by her cousin, like a new best friend.

Linus pulled a face as they removed their muddy boots at the door of the café and replaced them with their own shoes. 'There he is, sitting all sullen in the corner table. And in about ten seconds, Hinton will… look up.' As if on cue, that's what happened. Linus and Katarina laughed. Hinton didn't smile. He scowled and hastily gathered his sketches.

Hinton was just as unwelcoming and monosyllabic when they sat at the table with him. He'd already eaten a plate of bacon which Katarina thought was really unhealthy. Katarina ordered tea and poached eggs with toast and Linus ordered muesli with strawberries and yoghurt. A jug of blood orange juice was placed on the table and Hinton guzzled two glasses. He then proceeded to wolf down a second breakfast of eggs (he left the toast on the side) as he sketched the interior of the café, practically ignoring Linus and Katarina, who couldn't get over the difference in his personality from the previous night.

As he looked up briefly from his sketches, Hinton barely nodded. Nevertheless, Katarina, was in her element, surrounded by new family. Her two cousins seemed to be far more interested in themselves and their plans that her, but Katarina didn't mind. Hinton had an exhibition to prepare and Linus started chatting about the play he was stage managing. When the sun shone through the window, Hinton shifted from the direct light and began to get restless as he shuffled his papers. Katarina was keen to get back to her mother's diary, but was wary of appearing (unlike her cousins) rude. Besides, it felt nice to be amongst what were for all intents and purposes, her family.

As they finished their breakfasts and she read the paper, Katarina noticed Hinton peering at the words on her page. She looked up and sounded out the word, incandescent. Hinton looked away.

'Do you wear glasses, Hinton?'

'No,' Hinton replied taking offence through a mouthful of bacon. He chugged down the rest of his orange juice then began gulping his coffee. His hunger seemed to have no end.

'Oh, don't mind him Katarina. Hinton always wolfs down his food, don't you Hinton?' Linus said with a mocking smile.

Hinton raised an eyebrow, apparently used to his cousin's humour. Meanwhile it was obvious Hinton had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or couch as was the case the previous night. Katarina tried to make small talk but Hinton stopped drawing, folded his sketches and announced quietly that he had to go to college to work on his portfolio.

Katarina wanted to say, 'I'll come with you,' because she had planned to do the same, but she felt she didn't really know him well enough (except by reputation). From the way he was behaving it appeared he would not want her to accompany him. Hinton got up so quickly, he even left the scarf he was wearing, (her scarf, strangely enough), by her seat. He didn't want to give her an excuse to return to Hareton Hall.

After he left, Linus stirred his coffee as he spoke. "Oh, never mind him, Katarina. He's always more sociable in the evenings. Take no notice. I'm glad we met. Besides, it's obvious he likes you. I would too if we weren't related…' Linus smiled dramatically.

'Well, I suppose I should also be going…'

"Nonsense, you're coming with me to Portobello Road to buy new outfits before I go to my rehearsal. Then we're off to Camden town tomorrow and tomorrow night, in honour of having found you again, we're going to cook a feast and have some friends over for dinner. I have it on good authority that father will be out.'

Linus opened up the newspaper and sure enough, inside the lift out, there was a picture of Heath, in a dinner suit standing with his most recent girlfriend. She was also a company director and the daughter of a media mogul. Heath was announcing a charity ball that would be sponsored by the family company, _Heath & Sons,_ that evening.

'Mmm… sons,' Linus mused, 'how optimistic. I think that means me… and Hinton, though I don't think we were quite what father was expecting.'

Linus leaned in close 'You know Hinton can barely read, don't you? That's probably why he left suddenly.'

Katarina looked surprised. 'What? I thought there might be something wrong with his eyesight…'

'Oh, he sees clear as day; he can practically see in the dark. It's just that father was… well, he raised him to ride and take care of the animals. He was home schooled by Greta when we realised everyone was just going to make fun of him at regular school. It was terrible. Keep this to yourself. Father hates it when I talk about the family publicly but there's always been a lot of tension between us,' Linus stated matter-of-factly. 'I mean, he's not exactly thrilled with my choice of…career but at least I'm literate.'

Linus went beyond the insinuation that Hinton was not. 'Oh, he's clever. It's just that he has dyslexia and never really had it diagnosed properly and now… he's too embarrassed to ask for lessons.'

'Well, I was good at English at school. Maybe I could help him. He seems so clever. It's hard to believe he can't read…' Katarina said.

'Maybe. Hinton's unsociable. I've tried and he won't talk to me. We just don't really like each other, I suppose. I mean, we're not blood relations but we were raised together. Sometimes it's just the way things are…'

Katarina resolved in some way to help her adopted cousin as she sipped her tea, constantly entertained by quips from Linus.

When the waiter came and Linus, ever the gentleman, reached for the bill, Katarina couldn't resist.

'By the way, last night, I saw something… well, someone. It was a person, I'm sure of it. A woman tried to get into the room as I slept. I didn't see her face clearly in the dark but…'

'Is that why you screamed?'

'Yes… '

'Perhaps it was a nightmare. Being too much in father's company will do that to a person.' Linus replied, always the joker.

'No… I mean… a woman… I didn't see her face. I saw her hand reach through the window. It was so real, I could almost touch her fingers…'

Linus shivered. He let the silence hang between them for a moment until he spoke…

'It's her again.'

'Who?'

'C'mon, we'll talk outside.'

Linus offered to pay the bill and they walked out towards the tube station on Hampstead High Street.

'I'm not sure it's really my place to say and I'm not exactly sure what you saw but…' Linus glanced over at his cousin with a serious expression on his face…

'Go on…'

'Well, Father should have warned you… but it looks like it's up to me, as usual. Hareton Hall is a freak show.'

Katarina just looked at her cousin; she didn't know what to say. Of course, she hadn't believed in haunted houses before. But then, she had never confronted the possibility of their existence until last night. She suspected some more answers might be locked inside the cover of the diary she now kept. They changed trains. The underground was semi-empty this morning. When the tube stopped at Notting Hill, they walked to Linus' car. He'd parked it outside the station when he couldn't drive home the previous night.

'Jump in, we'll go to the markets then I'll drop you home. Oh, I almost forgot, there's an old school yearbook with empty pages at the back that your mother wrote in extensively. I'd been putting my stuff in storage, preparing to move into a flat in Bayswater but I took this by mistake from the wardrobe. I was going to put it back but I think you might like it. It's in the back seat. I found it a while ago and kept it, so it wouldn't be amongst the things you already have. You could add it to your… investigation. I was never terribly interested, to be honest, so I didn't bother reading it. I just flicked through the photos. Oh, but I wouldn't tell father. He's very secretive about that part of his life, the part he spent with… your mother.'

He reached in and handed Katarina the package.

Katarina took the album possessively and opened a page that contained letters stuck into opened envelopes. They were undated and the post stamp was unclear. Kate's childish handwriting but sophisticated language described a pre-holiday dance where Heath's band was due to perform. _I'm so excited for The Battle of the Bands, _was a sentence that stood out. Her mother had even stuck a small piece of the pink voile from her dress on the page as a keepsake. Katarina ran her fingers over the material. After the first ten pages, which were obviously written by her mother, there was another letter signed by Heath.

'Does your father know we have this?'

'I doubt it,' Linus said. 'All of this was so long ago. Most of it is undated but they must have been written over twenty years ago - way back in the nineties. Anyway, father has no idea what is in every nook and cranny of the house. Probably forgot he ever wrote this stuff. It's bizarre to read. Your mother must've stuck the letters in there. Hard to believe people actually _wrote_ letters back then…' Her cousin trailed off.

Katarina, finding them impossible to resist, stuffed the notes in her bag.

As Linus turned on the ignition, Katarina suddenly wished she was alone at The Grange to ponder her mother's words in detail.

**Chapter Fourteen **

_**Letters **_

_From Kate to Heath _

_Dearest Heath_

_It's the night after the dance and I've been told to pack and be ready to leave in an hour. No one will tell me why I'm wanted at The Hall. It may be something to do with Harrison. No one can find you. I think you must be out hunting. Father insists I am to return home on the next train. My bags are packed and I'm writing this to you in case you don't arrive in time to catch the train with me. I want you to know what I have never told you enough - how much I love you. I am leaving this under your door to read when you return. _

_I keep thinking of the events that led to me being separated from you and wanted to clear up the misunderstanding that occurred… I'm going back to the beginning…_

_Annabelle stopped by (such a swat) on her way from the school library, to show me her dress. Don't ask me how we've become friends but I suppose that's what you could call us, until tonight. Anyway, I'd been trying to get her to wear contacts for ages, and finally she'd agreed. It was like a new person greeted me at the door._

'_Kate, you look beautiful,' she said. I felt it was my turn to repay her compliment._

_We sat together at my dresser, me in my pink satin slip, bought especially to go with my dress for the occasion (I can't believe I'm writing this down!) to impress you later as we planned! Annabelle had draped my dressing gown over her clothes and was trying on my slippers. We painted our nails to match our dresses. Afterwards, I did Annabelle's makeup. I was quite thrilled to have made Belle my personal project as I felt her transformation on the surface would lead to a more profound transformation of her personality._

_I was so excited to see your band play in front of a real audience for the first time. I knew you'd rock the place out; you're so hot and talented, how could you be anything but amazing? And you were amazing, Heath. Don't ever let anyone make you feel different, just because you are. _

_When Annabelle emerged from my bathroom transformed in a cream and silver tasselled dress, I was surprised. Then I complimented my new friend._

'_Wow,' I said, 'you look completely amazing!'_

'_Do you think so? Do you think anyone will notice?'_

_By "anyone" I was pretty sure she meant you and I ignored the insinuation. _

'_Of course, you look beautiful Annabelle,' I said, and meant it._

_Annabelle smiled. She said she knew her pale, icy prettiness wouldn't last. 'I have a slim figure but I know I lack the… specialness that would make a boy like Heath, for example, sit up and take notice.'_

_I knew she wanted me to disagree, but I could never just let her think you were hers for the taking. Instead, I told her any guy would be lucky to have her. And I believed it, (unless that guy was you, of course). Annabelle was, or rather is, perfect girlfriend material, more perfect than me. She's perfectly boring, perfectly spoken and perfectly nice. How could you not like her Heath? Tell me what I saw never happened! Do you remember how much we hated the Hunts as children? How we used to laugh at them?_

_Of course, Edmund has always disliked you because you were braver than him – or so I thought. He called you "rough" but I know Annabelle secretly had a crush on you from the time we all met up at Hareton Hall during summer holidays and I put on a fashion show. Remember? _

_The fashion show began and ended with me showing off my new sports uniform. All of our school friends came and it was my idea to donate the door money to charity! Annabelle was invited to model also, but I went first. Edmund and Annabelle took their seats, open mouthed, on the floor. I'd set up the old ballroom like a theatre and forced you to grudgingly hold the curtains and shine the spotlight. You studied our neighbouring friends without hiding your irritation. You still hadn't forgiven their father for accusing you of harming their dog when we were small, and I don't blame you. You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but inside The Hall that day but this was a chance to "let bygones be bygones," as Greta once said._

'_May I take your coat, Annabelle?' I remember Greta asking. _

'_Yes, thank you very much,' the girl with milk skin answered. You must have found her vaguely pretty, I'm sure, even though you barely showed her any attention when she modelled and clapped loudly when I did. If both she and her brother hadn't irritated us so much with their bland, insipid privilege, perhaps we would all have been friends, earlier. But we always preferred being outside when we were children, didn't we? Playing on Hampstead Heath in the wind, remember?_

_Anyway, earlier tonight Annabelle continued to blabber on as we got ready. _

'_I honestly think Heath is the most handsome boy I've ever met.'_

_I couldn't disagree. I sometimes wonder if Annabelle's plan to befriend me had something to do with wanting to be near you. She stood up and hovered at the entrance to my room when she was nearly ready as if she wanted to share more unasked for information. _

_I turned around from my dressing table._

'_You look like… a princess,' she gasped. It was her turn to flatter me. Annabelle was still gawping at my darkly made up eyes, long gloves, low-cut dress and glitter eye shadow. 'Although I'm not sure the school…' _

'_Oh, I couldn't care less if I get a stupid demerit for wearing a revealing outfit…' I said. 'Don't look so shocked, Annabelle. Come over here and help me tease my hair. It is a 1960's theme after all!'_

'_You look…amazing,' she said as I applied my pale, pink lipstick. _

_It was eight in the evening and the Battle of the Bands Dance had been going for at least half an hour when we arrived. We stood at the top of the stairs surveying the scene we helped create, glitter ball and all. It was spectacular. I knew you were on last and your band was the only one I wanted to cheer for Heath. I thought the school hall, lit up with disco lights, looked amazing, didn't you? I took Annabelle's cream gloved hand in my pink gloved one as we casually walked down the staircase towards the cloak room and saw the whole school lit up with a banner that read Sixth Form Dance._

_When your band played, you guys were awesome. We clapped wildly so you would hear us but you looked straight past me and smiled at Annabelle! She smiled back! I happen to know you'd barely said more than two words to her in all your life, yet she was convinced you were in love with her after that. How could this be so, Heath? I am sorry for doubting you but as her obsession seemed to know no limits. I couldn't help but wonder if you had ever done anything at all to encourage her. _

_The lights were lowered as the heating and the energy in the room warmed and I noticed you pour something from a flask into your water bottle. I think, maybe, you had forgotten your Magenta. You looked hungry. _

_The band started playing again and you were amazing as I always knew you would be. Annabelle's face lit up and I would have started laughing if it wasn't so annoying. I suppose I just decided to fight fire with fire. _

_Soon I was surrounded by a group of boys and some of them started dancing and thrashing to the music and I was caught up in the throng of activity. Food was passed around, teachers stood back and hovered, talking amongst themselves, finally letting everyone dance without bothering to interrupt. _

_The set stopped and afterwards, I saw you attempt to move towards me as Annabelle headed in the opposite direction. You didn't push past her as I expected you to and I refused to show anyone I'd noticed. You looked embarrassed when she clutched your arm and told you how great you were but perhaps you had matured too much to be openly rude as you once might have been. I could barely hear your voices above the dance music but the conversation went something like this: _

'_Hi. The band was amazing,' Annabelle said. _

_You were flattered. I could tell by the careful way you smiled and said, 'Thanks Annabelle.' _

'_It reminds me of the music we played when Kate and I used to make up dances and modelling shows… remember when we lived next door to each other.'_

_How interesting, I thought, when Annabelle knew the dances and fashion shows were entirely directed by me._

'_Of course,' you said, 'how could I forget? You were always so creative,' I could not believe what I was hearing. I also couldn't believe any girl could be quite so…obvious or that you could flatter her so easily. You started packing your guitar in its case and you didn't even give me a second glance. _

_I admit I was occupied with a group of friends by this point but that was because I was so annoyed that you had all but ignored me. How could you, Heath? Finally, you glanced over at me but I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of realising that I'd noticed. I realise now, you were mad at me for not telling you I loved you in return in the cottage the day before. But did you have to pay me back by flirting with Annabelle? It worked. _

_In fact, I barely gave a second to look in your direction. The look on your face said it all. I admit, I was wondering if you were having second thoughts about us. It is true that you are from another world but that is not why I love you, I know that. I know that you would love me even if we'd been brought up together on the street. Games are for other people, Heath, not us. _

_You only have to be yourself with me and I love you completely, for that alone. You once told me you could do anything you wanted, be anyone you wanted and so could I. I am so much like you; I am you. You left too early from the dance, if you heard my reply to Edmund's question but not my true answer. Please come back to me. Save me from whatever fate has in store for me without you. If you are reading this, I am on the train alone and you did not return in time to come with me. I shall wait for you at Hareton Hall…almost as if, although separate, we are one. _

_I love you more than words can ever say._

_Yours forever,_

_Kate _

_The second letter was in Heath's handwriting, dated that night:_

_Dearest Kate_

_Love and loyalty forever, without one the other doesn't exist! How could you imagine otherwise? I have not stopped thinking about you since we parted tonight and I'm writing this now, to give to you in the morning since the house mistress said you could not see me tonight. I walked over to the girls' school to find you but the teachers wouldn't tell me where you had gone. Someone said you had been taken back to London and that because no one could locate me, I am to leave on the morning train. They won't tell me why either, just that I am wanted at home. _

_I feel the need to set things straight between us, since this is our first quarrel and I could not go to sleep angry – or go to sleep at all knowing you are on your way to Hareton Hall without me. I shall give this to you when I see you since it will be easier than spoken words. _

_I hope father is okay. You know I love him as if he were my own, and I have a strange feeling something is up from the way the school counsellor has been speaking to me with added empathy. No one will tell me anything. _

_I hope you at least decide to open this because I know you were angry with me last night. In light of what has happened, our quarrel seems pointless, so please, when you receive this, don't just throw it out the window. You know I never write letters, never, but I am making the exception for you, because you are special Kate and always will be, because I love you forever and you know I always will._

_I'm going to start at the beginning and I'm warning you, this letter is going to be more than a few pages long…_

_Okay, it's true that I was deeply embarrassed by Annabelle being "all over me" as you put it. In my defence, it was past eight and I hadn't been able to get to my supplies and I felt strangely weakened, my desire for blood stronger than ever. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but it is the truth. I won't go on about it but I was feeling less than my best which may have added to the perception that I was ignoring you. Remember Kate, it is hard to be the one saying "I love you," and not hearing those words in return. _

_As for the Band Battle, I think we were attracting a few fans (this bit is supposed to make you laugh!) but I admit Annabelle was very obvious tonight. Even our drummer noticed her behaviour. She credited you with her makeover! Perhaps you should have given her a make-under - just kidding. Yes, I smiled back at her as I glanced around the room, waiting for YOU who seemed to be ignoring me! We had agreed to meet outside after the set had finished, to continue the party…elsewhere. But the scout from London was here and the band wanted me to put in an appearance. After he left, Mr Jones was on the war path trying to round up the boys who spiked the punch …guess who? Annabelle was a decoy, someone to hide behind. I am ashamed to say that is why I went outside with her and this is what happened next…_

_Annabelle sipped her drink and tried to make conversation, thrilling lines such as:_

'_Do you have plans, Heath, for when school ends?'_

_I replied, 'yes,' wondering how long before it would be safe to go inside._

'_I don't… not really. Father wants me to apply for university. I thought I might like to go to Art College in London instead.'_

_I nodded, still waiting for you, feigning interest in her vapid conversation. I glanced through the glass doors and saw you and the moronic Edmund Hunt, dancing. Great choice if you wanted to make me jealous Kate, it worked._

_Annabelle looked up and said, 'My brother seems to have taken a shine to…your sister.'_

_I gulped my drink as one of the band made a secretive gesture in his direction indicating more alcohol would be forthcoming. _

'_She's… not my sister,' I said quickly (because you aren't!)_

'_No… I'm sorry, of course not, but you were raised together…' Annabelle added, more annoyingly than ever. _

'_Only until we came here…almost six years ago now,' I replied, setting the record straight. _

_Annabelle then changed the subject._

'_I thought I'd hate it here but sometimes I prefer the school to home. I like having friends of my own.'_

_(I'm not sure what you said to her that afternoon, Kate, but she was under the impression you were her new best friend!)_

_I admit, it's true, this next part makes me seem inconsiderate but I was bored by her conversation and looked around the room. I became even more annoyed by your flirty behaviour with rich boy Edmund. Annabelle was all…wobbly by then. I think she'd been drinking too much punch even though it was never designed for her! She kept putting her hand on my shoulder to steady herself and at one point I returned the gesture to hold her up!_

_I looked across the room and there you were, beautiful in your pink dress, glaring at me. You turned your head (to listen to Edmund's scintillating conversation, no doubt). _

_Annabelle said, 'Oh look, Kate's dress fans out in waves across the floor, in waves at her feet like the ocean…'_

_And at that moment, that's exactly where I wanted to be with you. As far away from that school and our families and all the people who ever knew us, because I only want you, Kate, forever. _

_Then, the music reached a fever pitch and Annabelle was jumping up and down and you were in the middle of the group and I was watching you and then you…fell down._

'_Oh,' Annabelle said, suddenly still, 'I hope Kate's okay.'_

_I moved towards you but Edmund Hunt got there first. _

_Annabelle looked at me all gaga by then. It's true that I glanced at her, but more like she was a consolation prize! This was just as you turned heads paying Edmund your undivided attention! (One of my teammates once walked in on the pair of them – brother and sister – trying to teach each other to dance in the student common room!) Honestly, Kate, we should never let either of them get between us. They are not worth it! (Jealous? Yes, at least I admit it!) I turned away as Edmund was helping you up. _

'_Do you want to go outside?' Annabelle asked me, unexpectedly. _

_What was I supposed to say? I suppose I could have declined and stormed off like a girl but I wanted to make you pay. I'm sorry, I know that love is patient and kind; I know that is what we are taught but you and I are different. Words are not enough. I just want to be with you…impatiently, all the time. And sometimes I want to suck the vein in your wrist but I hold back because I'm trying to be better than that for you Kate, I'm trying not to have to be what I was born to be. You make me try to be a better man. Tonight I was less than my best, I know…_

_The balcony was divided into sections for groups to talk and socialize. _

_I made sure rich boy saw me as you told Edmund you were okay while he helped you outside. I wanted to make you jealous so I put my arm around Annabelle then released her moments later. _

'_Wait here,' I told Annabelle, 'I'm going to get you some water. I'll be back in a moment.' That's when I heard you. Rich boy spoke first._

'_Are you sure you're okay?'_

'_Ah, I think it might be some kind of… minor sprain,' you said. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to… ?'_

'_No, I like the fresh air.'_

_I could hear your words clearly Kate as I went to get Annabelle's drink. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to your room? Or would you like me to get…your friend, the one you're always hanging out with,' Edmund said jealously I might add. _

'_That is not necessary, I do some things by myself you know… and we are not always together.' I could hear those words Kate! You spoke them!_

'_Well, certainly, people don't see you together but I've heard…' he went on._

'_Perhaps you listen to too much student gossip…' you sounded mortified that people might guess we were together!_

'_No…not at all,' Edmund said, 'I just thought you were with…'_

_I was standing outside the balcony tent by then, hidden from view, but once I heard the topic of conversation I couldn't resist pausing. Trust is fragile Kate! You need to explain the rest to me because I never stop loving you no matter what you do…you added these words: _

'_There is nothing to think… I'm my own person. I'm not with…anyone. I don't have a boyfriend…'_

_I admit I freaked out standing there in the shadows like a stranger to your life. Hadn't we just spent the morning together? Hadn't we been closer to each other than anyone else in this life? I wanted to teach you a lesson for being disloyal, so I stormed off through the crowd._

_By now you must know, Annabelle means nothing to me, nothing. YOU ARE MY LIFE KATE SPENCER._

_Later_

_Then I woke up this morning to hear your father had died suddenly. I am on the morning train to London, drinking my supply. Honestly, I feel completely lost and only want to see your face again. Our petty argument seems just that. He was the only father I ever knew, too, Kate. I never met a kinder more sincere man in my life. I'm so sorry, Kate. _

_I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER. _

_I will be at Hareton Hall as soon as possible _

_Hxxxxxxxxxxxx. (and here the page was smothered in at least a dozen kisses and hugs and what looked like the smudge of tears…) _

I read over the childish letters in the dark. It seemed plausible that Kate and Heath were separated as part of a plan Harrison was forming.

Soon after, Kate was sent to Finishing School in Switzerland, where she stayed for three months until her eighteenth birthday. Both sets of school fees were cancelled and Heath was thrown out of the house, onto the street, his inheritance "absorbed" in the family trust and expenditure – justified by Harrison's appointment as the executor of the family estate. Neither of the younger Spencers appears to have completed secondary school in Scotland. A final letter from Kate (written in Switzerland) filled me in on some of the missing details.

_Dear Heath _

_By now you will know where I am and why and I wait patiently to join you. _

_How typical of Harrison to have tricked the school into separating us, and how alone and terrible I feel without you now. I wait for you and please know everything that happened at the dance is ancient history; it all means nothing in light of recent events. I still cannot believe father is gone. _

_Greta is taking this with her and has promised to give it only to you. Harrison, as you know, confined me to my room before I was packed off to Switzerland. He locked the door and barred the window after he dragged me from your path and would not let me leave this room. He says my place is with my family and not with "a freak". But you are my family Heath, and if that makes us freaks together, so be it. We will meet as planned and Harrison will never separate us again. _

_You won't believe what he has done! His new girlfriend, Frances (we call her Franny and so far she is a good natured sort of person, trying to bring me food and drink when Harrison is not about) is soon to be his wife! The little boy (a mere toddler) is her brother. His name is Hinton. They allowed him into my room to give me company before I was packed off to Finishing School. How kind of them. He too is a good natured little boy, with a face like a cherub. He likes to play with his toys and offers them to me to "make me better". I hate to imagine how Harrison's influence could change him since he is such a sweet child. I have tried to warn Frances but she is so "in love" she refuses to listen, and so far, Harrison has only presented his nicer side. He insists I am in my room for my own good and I barely have the energy to resist any more. With you gone, I have nowhere to turn. I have enclosed half the money we saved together in my piggy bank as children. I'd hidden it and you will need it more than me. Please don't send it back! _

_This will be shorter than the last letter. I just want to clear up what happened at the stupid Battle of the Bands and we can talk when I finally see you. Greta has promised to send you the details and I know you will contact her; I just know it. _

_Our school days seem pretty aimless in light of what has happened. Father died in my arms just before you arrived home. It was horrible, Heath. I miss him so much. I think he was our only ally. _

_Back to our stupid misunderstanding; I know my thoughtless behaviour hurt you more than any beating or withdrawal of privileges we ever received from Harrison, just as yours did me; so not worth it. I love you, too, more than anything or anyone else. You should know, before we make plans, that this is what happened after you left the ball room that night. _

_I told Edmund that I couldn't ever go out with him. He asked me if I was "attached" to anyone (which I found old fashioned and funny although I hardly imagine myself laughing ever again right now.)_

'_I can't go out with you, Edmund,' I said._

'_But, you just told me you are not attached to anyone,' he replied._

_**That's because I'm… more than attached**__. Those were my exact words, but you didn't stay in the room long enough to hear them. _

_I added, 'It is true that you don't see Heath and I together… in public or at school much but… we are more__** than attached**__. We are together in secret. We plan to move to London next year but of course my older brother would never approve so we just keep it to ourselves. It is true we are young but we are like, __**the same person. **__I could never imagine being without Heath.' And blah blah blah I went on, embarrassed to be relaying those words now, but they are TRUE. _

'_I see,' Edmund replied. Pale and dorky though he is; I think he meant us both well. 'I knew you were close… Anyway, I'm going up to Cambridge next year….' And after I had assured him there was no hope we would ever be more than friends, Edmund looked away, hurt. So please don't hate him for liking me because I think he is actually a good person. He seemed to understand and asked if we could remain friends. I didn't know what else to say so I said "yes", but truly, it all meant nothing. I tried to get up but the pain in my ankle made me hesitate. I looked for you but you were NOWHERE. That night I dreamt that we were parted and I begged you to come back to me. _

_Tell me this isn't true! _

_COME BACK TO ME NOW HEATH. I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER AND EVER._

_Love Kate (sealed with a thousand kisses)_

**Chapter Fifteen**

_**Shadows **_

And here I sat, the daughter of such a woman. I was quite surprised, I admit, at the evident depth of affection between her and Heath and quite annoyed at how meanly Heath had spoken of my loyal, kind and loving father. It was hard to get over the disloyalty in my mother's letters, but I tried to justify my reading of them in the name of "research".

Greta walked into the kitchen light and she relayed to me the story of Kate and Heath's parting. As we sipped tea and I waited for my cousin Hinton to emerge so we could go and work at the studio like we planned.

This is what Greta told me:

'When Heath arrived home he was ignored by Harrison who had brought his new girlfriend with him. Heath was just counting down the days until he and Kate could go back to school. Harrison had other plans. He'd withdrawn the fees for both children for their final semester of school. They had no say in the matter.

Heath couldn't have cared less about boarding without Kate close by and Kate had never been academic. When we arrived back at The Hall, Heath discovered Kate in a heap, on the couch, crying over her father's old photographs. When I went in to take them some tea, they were huddled together so close; I thought no one would ever tear them apart. Heath was also distraught. Your grandfather had been the only adult (apart from me) to love him and take care of him.

When the news had arrived, the worst, Kate and Heath were left alone. Heath hugged Kate in the child's playroom while she wept and he unsuccessfully tried to hold back tears for the only man who had ever been a parent to him.

After, we all sat in the old playroom as the news from a television blared on in the background giving us all a good excuse not to talk. Repeat images of political unrest in other parts of the world were on replay in a documentary. It was an irony not lost on any of us, for it was obvious, our world within Hareton Hall was crumbling.

I agreed to stay on to try to protect the youngster Hinton and Harrison was seemingly civil to Kate throughout that week. He had more important plans to occupy his mind. We were stunned to discover he intended to install his new girlfriend Frances, as his wife, (they married at a registry office the following Saturday).

At first, Franny was warm towards Kate and barely civil to Heath, (taking her cue from Harrison). Once she'd married Harrison, she lost interest in everyone else in the house, including her younger brother, and took to going on long walks across the heath. Hareton Hall has that strange effect on people or maybe it was the revelation that her new husband wasn't all he seemed. Sometimes I'd hear him yelling at her in the night and would place my hands over young Hinton's ears. I thought it a blessing that Kate was to be sent away but it was mean of Harrison to cancel their fees for the final term.

Kate's older brother had made plans to conquer and divide the two younger "shareholders" as he thought of them. He'd never really been able to control Kate. Although there had been a vast inheritance left to both the younger Spencers, Harrison made sure that Heath's share was written off to various expenses. Heath and Kate were still minors, after all. The shares that remained were left to be invested in the family trust and managed by Harrison on behalf of the two teenagers.

Harrison insisted that Heath make his room in the basement and groom the horses every morning. Heath did so, happily in fact, preferring to be outside rather than anywhere near Harrison. I asked when Heath would be enrolled back in school but Harrison seemed to think that was nothing to be concerned about. I feared the worst; that he intended to throw Heath on the street the moment he turned eighteen the following week.

Both Heath and Kate were not unaware of the plot against them as they took the horses to be exercised on the heath that last cold, autumn day when Heath was still in my care. Kate was in a near dreamlike state with her grief having marked a serious return to study as nearly pointless. 'After all, how many artists need an academic education, Greta?' she asked me. Really, Kate was delusional.

Instinctively, Heath, who had never trusted Harrison, knew there would be changes at Hareton Hall and he suspected his plans for university would be delayed in some way without access to the necessary funds. He needed money to hire a lawyer and by the time he had that he knew the funds would be siphoned off. He just hung on, taking his medication as scheduled, accessing his secret supplies to normalize his blood, and all the time wanting to rip Harrison to shreds. He hung on for Kate, waiting for her to turn eighteen so they could run away and never be under the control of Harrison again. If they ran off too soon, Harrison would inform the authorities that he suspected Heath was a vampire. Though not illegal, it would officially be a mark against him for life. There was so much discrimination. For example, vampires had to get permission to hold certain jobs and human-vampire marriage was discouraged.

Meanwhile, Harrison had cancelled the cheques Heath had sent to apply for university and it was too late for him to enrol to finish the school term at the local comprehensive. A scholarship was out of the question until the following year. Heath turned eighteen in a matter of days and Harrison would no longer be his court appointed guardian. Kate and Heath tried not to think about the family tensions as they rode together that day.

Kate had started eating again, having lost her appetite for a week and I had wisely packed the picnic basket with a lunch of their favourite things. Kate had put in a bottle of apple cider for after and her favourite mohair red checked blanket. Harrison was busy planning his next party for his new wife and to impress future investors in the various businesses he had purchased. He'd also taken to drinking in the afternoons (not a good sign). Kate's older brother was only too happy not to be bothered with the younger members of the household as long as they were out of his sight.

Hampstead Heath was dotted with people on that autumnal Saturday; mother's pushing babies in prams, small children running and playing games with kites, picnicking groups. These appeared to be fully functioning families, Kate was thinking, unlike hers. The pergola offered beautiful views across Hampstead and there were artists sketching near The Hill Garden as Kate and Heath strolled. They walked with their horses for about thirty minutes to reach the hidden garden and Glass House. Near the fish pond at the far end of a small alcove, there was a lovers' bench with panoramic views of North London.

They placed a blanket on the ground after they'd found water for the animals. Kate placed the food in the centre, while they talked and enjoyed the spread of chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, tea and crusty French bread that lay before them. Well, Kate did. Heath only ate the chicken – all of it. It was to be their last carefree day. As if to recognize that fact the sun hid in shadows behind the clouds as they talked, finally spitting down in tiny drops of rain. They had to quickly pack up all their belongings and head for the hidden, glass arboretum. As children, escorted to a night fair, they had once seen the stars in the evening sky from the same spot.

'Do you forgive me for what I said, the night of the dance?' Kate asked. 'You should have stayed to hear the rest.'

'Of course, Kate, tell me again,' Heath said as he brushed her hair with his fingers.

'Well,' Kate said, sitting up. 'I added, after you left, that actually, you are rather…strange looking and maybe not quite my type…'

Heath laughed, looked irritated, then despondent but as he got up Kate pleaded with him, 'I'm joking. Look, I found our initials that we marked into the tree when we were children. Here they are, bigger than before, clear as if they were carved yesterday.'

Sure enough, the initials of the pair were hidden at the base of the tree in a place only they knew to look. The letters were a legacy of their youth.

'You see, I knew even then. There is no one else for me and it is true. In this world or any other, I have known we were meant for each other, forever.'

Kate placed her finger to his lips.

'We don't know what will happen, yet. We'll find out tomorrow.'

Tomorrow was Heath's eighteenth birthday. Kate's was three months later. After that, they planned to run away together and get married. They thought by making it all official, it would be difficult for Harrison to separate them. As the rain spat down upon the glass roof, Heath leant over the seat they shared and kissed Kate, pulling her closer.

'Kate Spencer, will you marry me?'

'Yes,' she said, confidently, after they kissed.

'I don't have the ring with me. It's being made…so this is the informal proposal part…' They'd been whispering about getting married for weeks. Once they were of age, they could sever all ties with Harrison and make their own decisions. Kate had already spoken to the vicar who had known her since childhood.

Heath and Kate had been planning to elope for weeks but recent family events had hastened the proceedings. Kate put her arms around him and they hugged. Together, they fell onto the ground, laughing. The girl rolled on top of him; she was very strong and athletic and had him in a gridlock, on his back as he tried to shake her off, all the time trying to kiss her beautiful neck.

Later that night, Kate wrote in her diary that her wedding to Heath would be a triumph of love and hope over reality.

'I need to hear you say it, Heath. What I'm about to do - run away with you - means my family will disown me and we can't ever behave like we did at the dance. There can never be…misunderstandings that we can't fix.'

'How can you doubt me for a second, Kate? You are my family now and I am yours. I have never loved nor will I love anyone the way I love you. You are everything to me. You are my world…and the only reason I'm here. I would have bolted a million miles away from Harrison by now if it didn't mean I'd miss you so much…' Suddenly the blood in Heath's veins surged. His mouth felt dry. He recognized the taste of venom in his mouth.

'Of course, I'm worried. Dr Vincent has told me that it's unlikely I will revert but I may evolve. On my birthday, the day I reach 'full maturity' as he put it, we don't know what will happen.'

'Whatever happens,' Kate said, 'I promise to be there.'

'Kate, I could start off mild…and then if I transition, I may become… uncontrollable.'

'I love you, Heath.'

'I love you too, Kate.'

'That's all I need to know.'

Heath covered Kate in kisses as she laughed and brushed the ground off their clothes.

'I'm glad we're making it official,' Heath said.

Kate smiled.

'We only have to wait until three months after your birthday, it's all arranged.' Kate said.

Heath hesitated, 'Remember, neither of us knows what…my condition will mean…' Just now, he'd nearly lost control and kissed her a little too close, too deep.

'I accept you, no matter what. But,' she joked, 'if you think we're too young…'

Heath's face dropped. 'You mean you're not sure?'

'Yes, of course I'm sure. I just want to try to smooth things over with Harrison. It will be easier on us.'

'Listen to me Kate, there is no "smoothing things over" with Harrison. He means to make our lives as difficult as possible. Harrison cannot be trusted. He will not help us and he will not help you if you try to make it up with him. You remember how he used to treat us as children? The hours where he would lock me in the basement and put you in a cupboard before father came home and discovered him? Don't you remember his callous behaviour, the cruel beatings?'

'Yes, of course I do. He was always jealous of how much father doted on us. He was jealous of how much you and I loved each other. He called our desires…unnatural. I often wondered what he meant since he was never told about your…condition.'

'I assumed he meant because we were raised together, but that hardly applies now.'

'Harrison is practically my only family… apart from you. I always thought once he got over his teenage phase… you know he really went off the rails at boarding school, going to wild parties, indulging in bad behaviour. He brought all of that home with him. I just thought he might change.'

'It's his nature, Kate. Some people don't change.'

'It would be easier… if he did.'

'You mean, it would be easier for us… financially.'

'Well, yes. I am used to having nice things and a comfortable house…'

'Those things aren't important…'

'I know but…'

'You're not listening to me, Kate. I will give you all of those things… and more…just not yet.'

'We're so young, Heath.'

'Do you doubt me Kate?'

'No, no I could never… I love you Heath. I would run away to the moon with you, but just give me these few days to try to smooth things over. We'll leave the moment I turn eighteen, either way. I promise.'

Heath looked down at his shoes as Kate stood up and shook the blanket. She reached over and kissed him softly then ruffled his hair like she used to when they were children. He took her wrist and kissed it as if he would never release her from his touch.

'I am yours, forever,' Kate whispered. 'Sometimes it scares me how much I love you. It is as if I have left my own self and you and I are complete, only when we are together.'

They merged under the fading clouds as the shadows of two lovers became one in the dark.

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**Escape – Present Day**_

'Breakfast!' Greta called to the inhabitant upstairs. Heath was hurriedly dressing and came bounding down the stairs looking like a much younger man with his riding boots in hand, ready to go out.

'Not going to the office this morning?' Greta asked as she handed Heath his coffee which he hurriedly gulped down.

'I'm going riding, if the stables are still standing.'

'Well, the storm stopped about a week ago, but it's been raining ever since so I'm not sure it's the best weather for riding. Mud everywhere.'

'It'll be fine,' Heath assured her. 'Oh, I see we have a visitor.'

'Yes…your, er… niece, Katarina. She seems to have become quite fond of her cousins.'

Heath looked at Greta blankly. 'Where are they?'

'They've left already. Katarina and Linus went out to find props and attend a dress rehearsal for the play. What are you getting yourself into Heath?'

'Nothing I can't get out of. She has a right to know her cousins. They have a right to know her.'

Greta raised an eyebrow. 'This isn't more…vengeance, is it Heath? Because, you know, you already fought that war.'

'Did I Greta? I'm not so sure.' Heath, in a rare show of affection (he was in a surprisingly good mood this morning), leant over and pecked Greta on the cheek.

'Don't worry so much Greta. It's time I had some more young people about me. The place seems a lot sunnier this morning.'

'Oh, you and your "young people", Greta smiled. 'You don't look a day over twenty-six. I wish you could give me the secret to your eternal youth.'

'You don't know the half,' It was a strange comment, Greta thought, since Heath had shared his secret with her long ago.

The wind had flattened the heather outside. A slight trick of sunlight shone across the park turning the other side of the field gold.

Greta shrugged. 'Trying to stop Heath getting involved in something he wanted had been almost pointless, from the time he was a little boy.' She wrote in her journal. _'I knew I could do nothing to persuade him against his plan…' _

_**Twenty Years Ago**_

Kate crept into Hareton Hall when it was way past dinner the night Heath had proposed to her. There was lightness in her step as she moved upstairs to pack her things. In the dark, she heard breathing. At first she thought it was just Frances, who had fallen asleep soundly on the couch but it was also her older brother, Harrison. He flicked the switch on above the couch and all of the chandeliers shone at once, creating a halo above Kate's head. Her brother stared at her menacingly from the corner of the drawing room.

Meanwhile, Heath was delayed. He'd taken the horses to the stables to wash them down. Kate dodged Harrison and wandered over to pat Hinton's head and carry him to his room. He was curled up asleep in a lounge chair with his puppy and she hesitated to wake him. Hinton was always content to play with his animals. Today it was a new pet, but as often he picked up a lost kitten outside in the garden and took it inside to feed. There were always small creatures that found their way into Hareton Hall and Hinton's menagerie.

Hinton stirred awake just as Franny, snuggled into Harrison's shoulder, opened her eyes. Kate realised her sister-in-law must still be delusional about Harrison's true nature.

Harrison had, these past few days, mostly ignored Heath and tried to curry favour with Kate. Greta wrote in her diary that she wondered what new scheme he was planning.

'Kate,' he said out of the blue. 'Welcome home. You've returned.' He nudged Frances. 'Franny wondered if you'd like to go on a shopping trip with her…to Paris.'

Kate tried to ignore Harrison's bribe.

'Dearest Kate, I want you and Frances to be friends. Paris is close to Switzerland where Franny and I will be skiing. The trip is on me.' Harrison had decided it would help to have Kate on side, less hassle when he needed her to sign legal documents.

'When?'

'Next week.'

Kate nodded, although she and Heath would be far away by then.

Since Oxford, Harrison had worked at the family firm and in the weeks since her father had died, Harrison had taken over not just her finances, but control of the entire estate. Until she was eighteen, he had all the power.

'I've been thinking, Kate… and your mother agrees, it's time for you to go back to school. Father would have wanted you to complete your education.'

'And Heath?' Kate added.

'Oh, well, that's up to him.'

Harrison basically ignored the question. 'That boarding school in Scotland was always useless. It's where I went after all and I doubt things have improved and…I'm concerned that you spend too much time doing nothing meaningful there. You can finish your studies in Switzerland, visit your mother and also learn something useful at the same time.' Harrison looked at the kitchen disdainfully, 'like how to cook for your future husband.'

Frances smiled as Harrison sniggered.

Kate knew without asking that he did not factor Heath into his statement and their plan would have to go into full swing. Kate was angry, however, and she couldn't resist a retort.

'You went to university. Why shouldn't I have that opportunity?'

'Dear Kate, you will be rich. What do you need university for? You'll only marry and have children like all the women before you. Oh, and let me give you some advice, no man wants a wife who… talks back.'

Kate couldn't believe Harrison's disturbing psychological argument. It was the 1990s after all. Harrison had always been poison; she should never have even bothered trying to reason with him.

'And to be honest, Kate, father's contacts helped me achieve, not my marks at school. We don't have him to help us anymore,' Harrison said, just to rub it in.

Meanwhile, Greta stirred the pot in the kitchen, going over her written instructions to the cook regarding the lunch for the meeting of twelve Board members that Harrison had called. Heath was still in the stables grooming the horses. Greta raised an eyebrow.

Harrison continued. 'As you know, you are not yet eighteen, so you are still legally under my care. The truth is Kate, unless you want to be out on the street, you have no choice but to comply with my wishes or…'

'Or?'

'If you run off with Heath, I'll call the police and have you both brought back and the "charity case" arrested.'

'On what grounds?'

'Oh, I'll make something up. I'm far more creative than you realize. I have friends in high places. I'm sure we can accuse him of something…freakish or financial. Dipping into charitable funds? Being a vampire? That could keep him detained for a while.'

'You have no proof.'

'My suspicions are enough to make an awful lot of trouble for you both. Besides, you are under age…'

'By three months…'

Harrison's wife, who had been curled up in the corner of the couch, stretched and went upstairs. Before she left she kissed her husband's cheek, oblivious to the shouting or his true nature. After all, she had a family fortune to protect as well and the merging of both family companies could only be profitable for both families. As Frances left, she smiled at Kate with an almost pitying look. In that moment, Kate realised she was all but alone. If she ran to the stables where Heath was washing the horses and they went away somewhere with what little funds they had, they would be running forever if Harrison had his way.

Well, they'd just have to take that risk.

'I don't want to go to Switzerland, Harrison.'

'It's all arranged Kate. The driver will take you to the airport in about ten minutes. Don't worry, Franny will meet you in Paris the first weekend. Mmm…I sense your hesitation. I feel Heath has brought you quite low in the world. You are to leave this afternoon. Go upstairs and pack your things. Oh, and don't fret. The Hunts have a chalet for the holidays. You are invited to stay for the season. You should be happy. Six months will go in six weeks. Then, when you've finished school, if you want to throw your life away on the charity case, who am I to stop you?'

'No. Father would have wanted us to stay together.'

'Father isn't here now. I'm the head of this household and you have nothing unless I give it to you. Learn to obey me Kate, at least until you can earn your own living.' Harrison looked around him and added as an afterthought, 'although the women in this household have never been very good at doing that.'

'Maybe that's because the men in the family refuse to educate them.'

'Excuse me?' Harrison said.

'And Heath?'

'Heath is eighteen at midnight Kate. What he does is no business of ours. I have sent a messenger to encourage him to leave the property at once. I shall send him packing with plenty of cash, Kate. No need to worry.'

'That's a lie! You've always been jealous of him!' Kate yelled at her older brother from the top of the stairs.

'Even so,' Harrison said coolly. 'We'll see who has the last laugh now.'

'Where is he?'

'I have a police officer outside in the stables waiting to explain his rights to him. I expect he will choose to leave sooner rather than…later. He should have turned eighteen by the time he…chooses to go.'

'Another lie…he'd never leave without telling me…'

'Well, after he's been told about your decision, he's sure to want to leave. It's almost midnight after all. What were you both doing out in the park so late? Never mind, don't answer that.' Harrison said smugly.

'Heath knows it would not be my decision…that I didn't have a choice.'

'Mmm…' Harrison said with a smile. 'Well, we didn't really explain it to him like that.'

'I will not leave without seeing him.'

'Heath took his bags and left a few minutes ago. He'd be half way down the road by now.' Kate moved to the front door but Harrison warned her with his words. 'If he wants you, I'm sure he'll write. I must tell you Kate, this teenage passion you have for him seems to me to be very one-sided.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I have it on good authority…'

'Whose?'

'Edmund Hunt's since you're so interested.'

'What has he been telling you?'

'Well, he happened to mention to the son of a colleague of mine, that Heath and his sister had been quite close…'

'Another lie.'

'Is it?'

'You know Heath can't stand her.'

'Really? Well in my experience where there's smoke, there's fire. Go and pack your bags and stop behaving like a moron. A few months in Switzerland will do you the world of good. You can leave in the morning. And I'm warning you, Kate, you don't actually have a choice.'

Kate turned to go up the stairs, holding back tears.

'Haven't you forgotten something?'

'What?'

'Say thank you.'

Kate ignored him. She ran up the staircase. When she reached her bedroom Kate looked through the windows. The stables were quiet, the horses almost silently eating hay. Heath was nowhere to be seen. He must have been dragged off the property. Kate moved through the connecting door to the playroom, the place in which she once gained many hours of solace. The door slammed shut and Harrison locked it behind her.

Screaming was useless. Instead, she leaned against the door, slumped to the carpet and cried.

After a few minutes, Kate sighed. Harrison had not barred the windows. She was wrong to try to reason with her brother. This was all her fault for not running away sooner.

The girl picked herself up, went to her secret hiding place under the floorboards and found the documents she needed. Quickly, she threw her passport and some belongings into a bag and crawled out of the window like she used to when she was a child. She scraped her arm sliding down the scaffolding outside the building, flung her things into the car (she'd hidden a spare set of keys in the stables), and sped down the road towards the intersection. She was sure Heath could not have gone too far; then she remembered how fast he could run. The car shuddered and ground to a halt. The petrol gauge came up empty. Harrison must have emptied most of the tank, suspecting she'd try to escape. She would have to go by foot across the heath.

**Chapter Seventeen**

_**Midnight**_

The boy was walking quickly. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder full of supplies and the fruits of his gambling stuffed into the back pocket of his black jeans. Kate caught up with him and flung her arms around him.

He kissed and hugged her in return.

'I was going to wait for you, here,' he said. Kate looked closely at his face. The skin around his right eye was turning black…

'The police officer did that?'

'He wasn't a policeman. Just a thug Harrison hired,' Heath said bitterly.

'I'm so sorry. We should have left sooner,' Kate said, kissing him. His lips were still warm. 'It was foolish of me to try to find the good in Harrison where there is so little.' Kate added regretfully.

They hid behind the shelter of the bus shed as the weather turned and rain spat from the dark sky. Soon it would be midnight and they'd have to hide until morning. They were together now and immune to the outside world.

'This is all that matters,' Kate said as she hugged Heath for warmth.

'C'mon,' the boy said, releasing her. 'There won't be any buses until morning. We must find warmer shelter. Harrison is probably in an alcoholic stupor by now so there's no need for us to freeze to death.'

They trudged across the ground in the dark.

It was almost midnight when Heath began to feel a stirring in his arms. Exhausted, they rested at the base of an oak tree. The muscles in Heath's legs tightened and he was woken by the strong and sweet scent of human blood. Kate was bundled up in her coat next to him. She had scratched her arm, climbing down the side of Hareton Hall and Heath had a strong desire to lick the scratch. He stretched, resisting the almost irresistible. He knew he had to get to his vampire specialist in London, today if possible. He felt sure Kate would understand. The muscles in his body thumped and tightened. The need to drink blood overwhelmed him.

He quickly grabbed a packet of Magenta from his backpack. It was the new product his specialist had urged him to take a sample of during his last visit. This liquid sated him, momentarily, and he fell asleep again next to Kate as the snow began to fall on the glass roof above them.

They'd had no choice but to wait out the storm in the glass house, the place where he and Kate had once loved to visit, loved to be together, just seated side by side, barely bold enough to touch. Heath remembered best those moments of wonder and they only added to his love for her. Meanwhile, his desire to plunge his fangs into her neck was becoming more intense by the minute.

'Heath?' the girl asked sleepily.

'Kate?'

He nudged her awake. The blue coat she hid under was long and heavy, made for stronger weather and travel.

Kate opened her red eyes. He could see she had cried herself to sleep. 'We can never go back,' she whispered. 'He threatened to tell everyone about you or worse… have you framed for some fake financial crime… and he'd be capable of doing it, you know. He can forge your signature on documents…'

Heath looked away.

'I doubt he'd go through with it. He doesn't want to publicly besmirch the family name. Wipe away your tears, Kate. We have each other.'

Kate put her arms around him, but for the first time, he pushed her back.

'Don't Kate,'

'Why not?'

'I can feel a change tonight. I need to go to Harley Street…'

'We'll go together,' Kate said.

They huddled on the bench as Heath started to sweat. The girl spread her coat over the boy.

'You should leave me Kate; I don't know what is going to happen next. I want you to be safe. Safe, from me.'

'You can't be serious. You can't seriously… I could never love anyone as I have loved you… all my life you are the only one for me.'

'And you for me.'

'What has happened? What did Harrison say to you?'

Heath looked away.

'He told me I'm a…freak. That he didn't want my blood tainting this family…'

'That's not true! I love you. If you are a freak then I'm one too and I don't care what the world says…'

'Kate, listen to me. On the street, being pursued, we are nothing. Give me time. I shall get my antidotes, supplies, a job, make some money and…come for you.'

'No. Don't.'

Heath got up.

'No. I will come to you. I'm writing down this address, in London. It's a little café where I once visited with father in Covent Garden when I was small, before he brought me home that night to meet you. I went there once a few months ago with Greta. I kept the business card. Here, I've written all the details. Meet me there, eight am in three months on the twenty-eighth. The day you turn eighteen, you will be free of him. We will meet there and be together, forever.'

'Promise me.'

'I promise to find you again, if we are ever parted. But we are not going to be parted.'

The lovers embraced.

Heath's hearing had sharpened. 'I sense they are near…'

'No, I cannot let you go,' Kate said. 'I cannot live without you.'

'Kate!' He whispered, his desire to fang her was stronger than ever. Heath whispered softly as his knees fell to the ground 'I love you.'

A shout could be heard in the distance, then a whistle and a voice, 'She's in there!' Headlights shone in through the glass.

'Careful officer, he's got a gun,' Harrison said. 'He took it from the stables. He tried to kill me and he's abducted my sister…'

Momentarily, Heath slumped from the light which imitated the sun. Heath had his arm around what looked like Kate's neck and the police officer must have misconstrued what he saw.

'Don't shoot!' Kate yelled.

It was too late.

The shot ran out in the cold night air and went right through Heath's chest, barely missing his heart.

He shuddered and writhed in pain. It was a shot no human being could survive.

Kate was stunned. Motionless, she barely made a sound.

The police officer stared in horror at the lifeless young male. He was speechless as he bent over Heath's ashen body. The policeman checked the packet in the boy's lifeless fingers. His fist contained nothing but a water bottle inside a brown paper bag. No weapon existed on his body.

Kate screamed hysterically and placed her head upon her loved one's chest as she sobbed.

'Heath, Heath!'

Moments passed.

Harrison took Kate's arm and dragged her to her feet. She fought him all the way to the car and finally broke free of him, turning and running back to Heath's body.

The police officer, chilled from the night air and the shock of what he'd done, began dialling emergency from his car radio.

Kate screamed again as Harrison took a swipe at her. He forcibly dragged her back to the car but she punched Harrison and kicked him twice as hard. She ran back to Heath and flung herself upon him. In that moment, he was cold and still as she sobbed in the shadows. There was not another human in sight of the distraught girl.

'And then,' Greta added casually, 'the bullet holes started to heal. The flesh grew upon itself until not a mark could be seen through the holes in his shirt. Heath's chest began to rise and fall, his fingers moved, his warm, brown eyes opened.' Greta looked at me as she finished her tea. 'The last words from Heath before he got up and fled were, 'I will pay Harrison back for what he's done.'

Greta sighed. 'And sure enough, he did.'

**Chapter Eighteen **

_**London**_

Kate whispered in his ear, before he'd disappeared into the night, 'I'll pretend to go along with his plan - three months from now. The twenty-eighth like we planned.'

He kissed her forehead and fled.

Heath's disappearance was a mystery. Where a body had lain in the dark only mist seeped through the glass house as the solitary, crying girl was dragged forcibly back to Hareton Hall and then packed off to Switzerland.

The streets of Soho had been very cold at one am - summer, winter or any other season. It had been two days since he had been shot during his transition (and revived). When he fled Hampstead, after Kate was dragged from him, after she'd whispered the time and date of their wedding, he was speechless. Intent on survival, he disappeared into the Hampstead mist. Heath gorged himself on squirrels and hoped it would tide him over until he could get in to see his specialist, Dr Vincent.

Driving back to The Hall, Harrison was sure he'd seen the last of Heath. Although he suspected a vampire variation, he was sure he'd imagined, in his near drunken stupor, the events that had occurred in the early hours of that morning. It was, of course, Heath's eighteenth birthday. As midnight bells rang out, Heath was becoming immortal, shy of sunlight, wary of mirrors and gradually non-existent in photographs. Fearful of dawn and what he might do, the rest would evolve instinctively, over time. He would forge his own path.

After Kate was sent kicking and screaming to Switzerland, Heath's fees were withdrawn as Harrison had promised and the school was notified that Heath would not be returning.

Meanwhile, Heath's friends from Scotland were in school and he had no local acquaintances in Hampstead or the surrounding boroughs and even if he did, he wanted to get as far away from what he remembered of his childhood, as he could. He had the small amount of money he'd saved from running his school fixtures racket (and winning), as well as the cash Kate had placed in her letter.

'I do remember that,' Greta laughed and then let the story continue as if telling itself…

Heath had a small amount of cash plus the money Harrison had given him "what remained of his father's wish", as a "do not return gift" - one hundred pounds – an insult. It was a great deal less than he'd actually been owed; and none of the legacy left to him by his adopted father.

Heath used the money for supplies. He then spent the second night after riding the tube and sleeping rough in St James Park, in a backpacker's hostel near the West End. He now had real empathy for the homeless and resolved that when he became rich and powerful he would help those less fortunate.

As Heath was transitioning, his body was changing inside, but he never gave up hope that he would land on his feet. He was almost glad to be free of Harrison and The Hall but it was Kate's promise of love that kept him going through those cold, desperate nights.

On the third morning he emptied his pockets and realised just how short of cash he would be, once he'd put down a payment on a room for the week. He went to stay with the older brother of one of his school team mates but it soon became clear after a few nights that he couldn't hide his needs from that family and he'd outstayed his welcome. He slept in the park again but it was freezing. The humanity left in him ensured he still felt very cold.

By now, he'd managed to see his specialist, who'd commiserated with him and congratulated him on his eighteenth birthday. The tests showed a major change in his chemical make-up and it would take a few days for his medication to settle his imbalance. Heath still saw his own reflection in the mirror, still ate food and continued to try to live as normal a life as possible. He slept in more than he used to, the craving for human blood was stronger. The promise of Kate was enough, and all he survived for.

Heath was sufficiently recovered from the first step in his transformation. He'd experienced all of the symptoms: major light sensitivity, pain raging through his veins so badly that he curled up under a tree in St James Park and whimpered in daylight, cravings, chills and sweats. He found a tiny bedsit room in Soho. It wasn't long before he discovered, along with the bad side-effects of transition, that he'd developed the power to move quicker and think faster. He could literally see a massive series of complex numbers and add them up to get the correct result. His mathematics skills had always been excellent but now they were computer-like in their accuracy.

Heath resolved to find a job, perhaps two. He could always work in a restaurant, and then look for something else that would utilize his other skills.

He'd always been good at mathematics at school but now his mind worked like a computer. He thought working in a bank might be a good direction to take. He would apply for an entry level job that required no formal qualifications. First, he needed some fast cash since he'd nearly used up all he had. London was a huge place and although young and now partially a vampire, he did not allow this to deter him. Heath went to a hotel and merged so quickly through the lobby that they didn't notice his trip to the men's room. He used the shower and towels and cleaned himself up. He went outside and walked towards Piccadilly via Regent Street and into Soho, leaving his name at various cafes and pubs along the way.

Although he had no experience, someone was sure to need a kitchen hand. As long as the fumes from the cooking didn't get the best of him, he thought he might actually enjoy working with food. He realised, at least for the moment, night work would be best.

The first time he'd walked out in broad daylight (and London was mostly overcast, even in summer), his skin crackled, far worse than it had when he was a child. Then, he realised he'd forgotten to wear his medallion. He placed it around his neck after that, never taking it off, realising it contained the power to help him live a relatively normal life.

After he'd secured a job in a café, he applied for a job as office cleaner in one of the huge banks in the City. It wasn't much but both jobs gave Heath hope.

Meanwhile, he studied the stock market, hoping to one day make enough money to put a deposit on a flat. In those weeks, applying to finish school by correspondence, (something Heath once planned to do), went by the wayside.

It was during this transition phase in his life that he turned a corner one day and walked straight into Annabelle Hunt, rugged up in a cherry red overcoat exiting the building where her Soho art class was held. Displaying a previously unrecognised knack for rebellion, Annabelle had insisted on attending day school in London so she could go to Art classes at college in the evening. Her family had relented because Annabelle had so rarely been passionate about anything (apart from Heath) in her young life. As the girl had turned eighteen she had some say in the matter.

'Anyway,' Annabelle said, 'school was so lame once you and Kate were gone. There was no one interesting to talk to at all, except my brother, and he's hardly exciting.' Annabelle added in a rare display of personality as they sat together in the student coffee shop where Annabelle had insisted on dragging Heath.

Heath nodded. 'Ah, something we both agree on,' he added sarcastically.

Annabelle smiled self-consciously.

Heath had been resistant to sit with her at first, but strangely, seeing Annabelle reminded him of Kate, and talking to her was like old times.

'You look so different,' Annabelle said, peering into his eyes. Heath looked away.

'I have her address, you know,' Annabelle added as she stuffed her contact details into Heath's palm and kissed him on both cheeks in her European way. Heath agreed to stay in touch and that is how Annabelle became Heath's unlikely ally.

In his spare moments, Heath studied the stock markets. He learned a lot from the discarded ledgers thrown in the waste paper baskets he emptied at the firm where he worked on week nights.

After working in a pub during the day, he managed to put a deposit on a tiny bedsit. The plan was to save enough money to finish school at a Sixth Form College the following term then fill out his university entrance forms for the next year.

Annabelle had contact with Kate through mutual school friends and reconnected with Heath to let him know she would be delivering the cards and letters Kate posted to him, care of her. These postcards would have gone "missing" if they'd been posted from Switzerland because Kate was not allowed to send mail to anyone that Harrison, her guardian, hadn't agreed to. The "society" Hunts, were on his list.

Surprisingly, Annabelle had agreed to act as a go-between for the lovers. Heath hoped Kate would go to university with him. Although he knew she had her heart set on Art School in Florence, London was 'a better option' she had written, 'considering their finances.' Heath smiled when he read her note, as Annabelle looked on pensively. She quite liked playing the go-between. It suited her surprisingly humble nature, Heath thought, underestimating her, not for the first time. He knew Kate would be making the best of a presumably bad situation in Switzerland and he worked away the days before he'd get the chance to see her again. They re-confirmed the date of their rendezvous in their letters.

Sleeping rough in St James, hunting squirrels for food - those days were a distant memory - yet hard living had almost suited him.

He was young, verging on immortal. He could easily stay out all night and work all day but he rarely spoke to other people nor was he interested in other girls. He'd taken Kate's red scarf; she'd left it in the stables in a rush, and now Heath kept it in his pocket. The wool was warm and smelt of her perfume.

His own bedsit, although grungy, was like a palace to Heath after the turmoil of Hareton Hall. In preparation for Kate's visit, Annabelle had insisted on buying lengths of material and decorating the windows. Occasionally, she wondered what it would have been like had Heath returned her infatuation at school but her new boyfriend, Toby, was good for her. He was also studying Art History. She knew she was in a better place with a man who could reciprocate her feelings. It was enough, she thought, just to be near Heath but Annabelle did not underestimate how important his new friendship was to her.

Heath was excited as the day drew nearer. He walked past the place Kate had arranged to meet him many times that week. On the second occasion he was sure he'd seen her, but then the girl turned around and her eyes were nothing like those of the woman he loved. Kate had promised him. Kate would be there. Promises were everything. A promise was all they had. The walls of his room were pasted with the old-fashioned post cards Kate had sent him every day for a week.

Through all of this, Annabelle had been the conduit. A secretive message relayed from a secret meeting in St James Park. She had even tried to stuff money in Heath's pocket while he waited for his first pay cheque. It was enough to give Heath and Kate hope since neither of them had telephones and the internet was barely in use.

The sun shone in London as Heath waited for Kate and their reunion drew near. He'd been holding down two jobs and with a roof over his head, was filled with hope for the future.

**Chapter Nineteen**

_**Promises**_

Meanwhile, Kate was unreasonably cold in the Alps.

Her roommates were chattering away by the fire, three to a room. They'd only known each other for a few months but already they were friendly, Kate thought, especially after she'd shown them the picture of her and Heath. On cold afternoons after deportment class and flower arranging and French cooking and "How to Entertain Diplomats" or "How to Behave When Greeting the Royal Family" tutorials were over, the girls socialized.

They turned their iron upside down, pulled out the small milk pan they hoarded for this very occasion, and made hot chocolates by pouring milk into the pan and sitting the pan on the underside of the iron to heat the milk. Their drinks were laced with the cream and marsh mellows they bought in the tiny convenience store in town. The girls sipped hot chocolate as they talked. The topic of discussion was usually Kate, Heath and their "everlasting love".

One of Kate's roommates, Tracey, was from California. She spoke in an accent Kate loved and made LA seem like a place Kate would definitely like to go one day. Daisy, the shorter one with dark hair, was from London.

'Oh, he's really cute,' Daisy said.

'Yes, he's hot. I would…definitely,' Trace replied with a wicked smile.

Kate smiled. 'Well, neither of you can have him, he's all mine,' Kate said, snatching the photograph, knowing she'd probably never have the pleasure of another image now that Heath was in the process of transition.

'Are you sure?' Tracey asked mischievously. 'All alone in London after your brother treated him so…scandalously?'

'Yes, it really was terrible to throw the _foster _child…out like that,' Daisy added. 'My mother would never treat a foundling that way. It just looks really bad to the outside world…'

Kate had told them the whole story (well, the parts she could repeat – nothing about Heath's transition) but they somehow always got the details wrong.

'Heath is so hot,' Daisy said, glancing at the photograph of Kate and Heath taken just days before they ran away from Hareton Hall. Kate looked at the picture nostalgically.

'Gosh your house sounds so romantic, tucked away opposite a frozen park…' Daisy added.

Kate unfolded the letter she had received from Heath by way of Annabelle and re-read it as she stirred the milk pan, making sure a plastic skin didn't form.

'Only one more week,' she thought '…before I'm free of this place forever.'

The girls had been sworn to secrecy and Kate had worked out the route she would take from the school, down to the convenience store across the sleet road to the bus stop, down the mountain road to the train station, through the tunnel in the mountain…across the channel then on to London.

The café was in Dean Street. From the corner table you could see the cobbled pathway that led towards Covent Garden. Art students and opera singers busked there in the hub of shops and cafes and people.

It had been a long three months and in that time Heath and Kate had communicated using letters and postcards.

In the pre-internet nineties, Kate and Heath needed Annabelle as their intermediary.

The cards and letters Kate wrote Heath during their enforced separation lined the wall of the tiny room he'd taken. They began to arrive less than a week after Heath and Kate separated. Kate found a local bakery near the school where she walked to in her lunch hours and religiously posted a card to Heath using Annabelle's address. Sometimes at night after Heath had eaten food brought home with him from the pub (always some kind of red meat or chicken), he fell asleep reading the names of the cards on the wall.

The words: _holiday, skiing_ and _Switzerland_ became a kind of pattern in his mind; a pathway out of the daily grind he told himself was only temporary. He recognised a stronger desire for blood (and always the desire for revenge on Harrison) the closer he got to midnight.

His love for Kate tempered him. He was sure it made him a better person to know he had to be the best he could, for her. He resisted the evils lurking in St James. Daily, he was tempted by the homeless people on the street, the women in expensive coats, business men in even more expensive suits. Their veins pulsed at him like light if he was even a few minutes late taking his medication. He'd explained all of this to Kate in a letter; the one in ten thousand chance he'd had of being born a hybrid, then turning into a vampire; how his biological father must have carried the gene but not necessarily suffered from its affliction.

The night he was due to see Kate, Annabelle and some of her Art School friends took Heath out to celebrate the fact that he had applied and been accepted into a training program at the firm where he cleaned. His brilliance with numbers and ability to stay up all night studying ensured him the highest marks in the exam. They went to a restaurant in the centre of town where Annabelle, who had pretty much given up on Heath as anything but a friend, had arranged a surprise for Heath. Kate's arrival was not supposed to be until the next day, Saturday, but she'd managed to "escape" early, as she put it.

Kate waited for Heath expectantly. She wore a scarlet coat and a matching scarf and her hair was swept up in a winter woollen cap, making her appear sophisticated beyond her years. Annabelle arrived with a group of friends from Art School and headed to the reserved table.

'Kate! It's so wonderful to see you. I cannot believe you are back in London for good! Don't worry; everyone thinks you are staying with me. They won't notice you've gone missing until Tuesday - plenty of time for you and Heath…'

'I can't thank you enough, Annabelle.' Kate said.

'Well,' Annabelle replied, 'I hope we can be friends now, as we were always meant to be.' Annabelle glanced over at the handsome Art School student she was dating and Kate realised Annabelle was finally over Heath. Maybe it was true they could at last be friendly. Without her cover, she would never have been able to escape the day before her birthday.

'Thank you so much for being such a true friend to me Annabelle.'

'Not at all, it's about time Harrison got some of his own medicine. I've always liked Heath… as you know, but let's face it, he only ever had eyes for you,' Anne added.

When Heath arrived, expecting to see Annabelle and her other friends (who were now his friends) he was completely floored.

'Kate! You changed your mind and arrived early!' he said as she shyly kissed him on both cheeks.

'I wish. Tomorrow,' she whispered in his ear, 'I'm yours forever.'

Kate flung her arms around him and together they sat with the group while they all decided where to go for dinner. Something cheap but cheerful in Soho was the general consensus. Heath chatted excitedly about his new job opportunity and Kate told him about her plans to enrol in Art College with Annabelle.

Kate leaned in toward Heath and took his hand under the table. 'I don't care what happens now as long as I'm with you,' she said. 'Finishing School was a nightmare.'

Heath smiled back with his eyes and whispered to her, 'I love you.' He had invested his stock market winnings and had managed to double the money in a month. It was enough for them to have their deposit on a flat.

'The room in Covent Garden, it's tiny, it's not much, but soon I'll be making so much money. In a few years you'll be able to choose the finest house in London - or, who knows, we could move to America. I've always wanted to go there.'

They talked this way all night, making plans for their future. They couldn't tell anyone about their plans for the next morning, not even Annabelle. It was too risky to involve others. They intended to stay up all night until their wedding day which would be the following morning.

'New York is supposed to be brilliant,' Kate said as she ate the salad off her plate and passed Heath the chicken.  
'It is for artists,' Toby said. Kate was keen to meet Toby, Annabelle's boyfriend. Belle had been secretly seeing him for months. It was the reason for her move to London. Annabelle's father didn't approve of her dating an artist. In defiance Annabelle had run away from home. Her father had not dared to cut her off financially though, as Heath and Kate had been. Annabelle was in love (for the second time, Kate thought with a smile). Belle's new passion finally took the heat off Heath, although he'd obviously grown to like Annabelle. They'd made better friends than he'd anticipated. Unexpectedly, Annabelle dragged Toby up off his seat and they began to dance to some random eighties song together.

Kate leant in, 'Wow Art School has certainly changed Annabelle …"

Heath replied, 'For the better, I'd say. By the way, how long before they notice you're missing and phone the authorities?'

Kate said, 'You mean Harrison …'

'Yes.'

'Well, they think I'm staying with Annabelle until Tuesday. By tomorrow, I'll be eighteen and they won't have any say in the matter.'

Kate leant in and Heath kissed her, the strobe lighting played tricks with their shadows as he whispered, 'I'm under control. I just thought you should know. I've been to the specialist and he says I may not devolve any further as long as I stay on my…'

Kate put her finger to his lips, 'We love each other. That is all that matters.'

At midnight, Heath replayed those words many times in his head. He could see Kate's expectant face as Annabelle and Toby wandered off to another club. Heath and Kate hailed a taxi.

'I want you so much,' Kate whispered to Heath in the back of the London cab.

'Me too, but we should wait until morning.'

'What do you mean?' Kate smiled.

'By morning, the transition for me will be almost complete. My specialist told me the first phase takes three months, unless there is a relapse. I've been taking my medication now for almost three months and I'm… stable. I won't be tempted to…drain you…' Heath then looked away as he said this and pulled out of his jacket the ring he'd been carrying in his pocket since his first pay cheque. He'd lived on nothing and saved every cent to buy Kate the style of ring that he thought she deserved. The diamond was larger and more expensive than a young man in his position would have been able to afford, but it was a token of his trust in their future and his faith in Kate's complete love. The diamond shone.

'Oh, Heath, it's beautiful.'

Kate slipped it on her finger.

'Happy birthday Kate.'

'It fits perfectly,' Kate said as she slid her arms around Heath's broad shoulders and kissed him passionately.

'Oh, we need to do this properly,' Kate whispered, coming up for breath.

'Driver, pull over please,' Heath said.

The cab pulled up on the curb near the well-heeled part of Kensington where the shops were freshly painted.

Heath asked the driver to wait, while he opened the door and helped Kate out.

In the street lights, Kate walked with Heath towards a clothing shop.

'Wait outside,' she warned, 'I had access to some money for the ski trip I'm meant to go on. I ordered something from this store in Switzerland. The store had it packed up and sent to the London shop. You're not allowed to see it yet.'

Kate returned with a large bag. Inside was her wedding dress. It had been packaged up for her collection, all arranged weeks ago.

Before she could add anything in words, Heath kissed her.

'Kate, you have made me the happiest person in London.'

'And you have made me the happiest woman in the world, in the universe,' Kate said. It was first light as they drove towards the tiny church in Chelsea; Kate recalled scrawling the words _Katherine & Heath own the universe…_all over her school texts when she was younger. Soon those words would be a reality. Kate knew they belonged together - her dream was coming true.

It was freezing; flakes of snow began to fall from the sky as they walked up the steps. Kate emerged from a side room dressed in her cream lace vintage gown. Heath was talking with the vicar. They'd bought flowers from a street seller on the way and Kate held a large bouquet of tulips.

Together they said their traditional vows and both embraced on their promise. Kate shivered as they kissed.

They exchanged words of thanks with the vicar who remarked on their youth. After the promise of their love, they signed the registry.

Outside as they hailed a cab, Kate and Heath kissed again with an intensity that made people on the footpath stare.

Heath smiled, filled with love for his beautiful new wife. He had wanted her from the first moment they had kissed, yet they had waited to be free. They reached for each other in the back seat of the London cab as they headed towards Soho. Heath had spent his whole pay cheque on a suite at the best hotel in Covent Garden. The exquisite room with the Queen sized double bed and fresh sheets was strewn with the petals of Kate's favourite flowers as Heath carried his young wife over the threshold. For the first time in months, as they kissed passionately and undid the buttons on lace and silk, their lives seemed rich with possibility.

The afternoon had been perfect. The transitions occurred in the shadows, in the early hours, as Kate lay sleeping. She woke and hugged Heath to her, nursing him through his night terrors, checking they had all the necessary supplies of Type A, plasma, elixir, medication. The final part of the six-month process was the worst, they'd been told. Kate soothed Heath as he fell back into a trancelike sleep.

In the early morning, a knock at the door woke Heath. Kate had risen earlier and was using the hair dryer. A messenger delivered a note addressed to Heath who read it quickly.

'I'm just going outside for a moment,' he said through the gap in the bathroom door.

'Uh, okay,' she called out to him. Silence was the response.

Kate wrapped her dressing gown around her and padded into the room with wet feet. She searched the hallway of the hotel; nothing. It worried her that the messenger and Heath had disappeared into dawn.

Heath had hastily scribbled a note for her and left it on the bed.

**Forget me until I find you. Wait for me, I'll return. I'm sorry H.**

Kate was shocked. It couldn't be Heath's writing, but it was. Kate dropped the note on the floor, pulled on her clothes hastily and ran out onto the street, bare foot, to look for him. After an hour on the street, searching through the crowds, it was hopeless. Her feet, bloodied and bruised, were the least of her troubles. Heath had disappeared into thin air. All Kate had left was the memory of the first night they'd spent together, blissfully entwined in each other's arms.

**Chapter Twenty**

**London**

_**Three Years Later **_

Heath was walking home from work after he'd been photographed for the cover of New Business Magazine. The journalist was writing about Financial Whizz Kids – the title chosen for the article. Heath tried to remain himself but the art director had insisted on having his hair messed, his tie skewed and his jacket open, giving him the appearance of a rock star and making him more famous amongst his colleagues in a week than he had been in a year. Women he'd never met messaged him. Heath told them he was married and most of them stopped. He was too young to be married but then he explained he'd met his wife when they were teenagers and they just raised their eyebrows.

Soho on Friday night was lit up with music and lights, like a buzzing carnival act. The West End was busy every night of the week. Heath had been working in the City making more money in his first year as a stock trader than he'd dreamt possible. Through extreme luck and, some might say, mathematical genius, financial fortune came his way. He was a mystery to his co-workers, but Heath knew the truth; that he never slept, that he was able to do in one day what took others a week; he could stay awake and trade in every time zone.

After trawling the usual after-work bars with work colleagues (referred to euphemistically as "friends"), Heath often ended up near his home in Chelsea at a small cafe, drinking elixir from a flask and checking the Asian markets as he waited for his supper of rare roasted lamb, occasionally fish, sometimes chicken – always protein. He usually arrived at his house in the early hours of the morning and was up again and seated at his desk by six in the morning.

He was aware that more than a decade of living this lifestyle would take its toll on his family, yet he existed in the moment. Money markets and stockbroking firms were where traders like him could make a huge profit and get out by the time they hit thirty, which gave him about nine years until burn out. And then some, because he'd been warned now, he wouldn't appear to age more than twenty-six years. He had made a full transition, immortality beckoned. He loved the feeling money and this new vampirical power gave him. It had taken him less than a year to turn his life around and he couldn't help but congratulate himself on his good fortune. He never had any doubt that he was as good as anyone else, as capable as any person.

Heath stayed out late to avoid going home. It was true their house was envied in a street full of beautiful homes and families, but it was all surface. To the outside world, they seemed so perfect. Still, he knew he'd made this "fast money" by doing things he never dreamt he'd do – marrying into wealth, identifying the weaknesses of other men and preying on them. As he made money, others lost it.

When the waiter brought the tall, striking young man in the dark suit another coffee as he'd requested, Heath remembered the request from his wife. She had asked him to bring groceries home - milk, bread, mundane things, nothing special. The message had been given to him in his office six hours ago. She's added love and kisses as she always did, revealing her true self with each forgotten word. It had all become a bit old to Heath. He flinched when he recalled the embarrassing note.

Familiar music played in the café; a beautiful song, sung by a band Kate had liked, all about the perfection of a day. For evening, it couldn't have been a more inappropriate song. Nevertheless, the music played as Heath drank his coffee and went over the business transactions on his laptop as the wait staff began to clear up and wonder when the last customer would leave.

The words of the song played over and over in his mind.

Heath sighed, wondering why Kate always came back to him when he was alone. He wished she could be erased from his memory, forever. Any good psychologist would tell him he was better off without her. Heath finished his drink, and then went to the street to hail a cab. Of course, he wasn't far from the bedsit they'd shared briefly after they'd married. The West End was filled with his memory of her.

Meanwhile, Kate was at home at The Grange wondering how it had all gone so wrong. She sat in the window seat in the moonlight, doing some sketches under a lamp for the theatre design she was drafting. The drawings were a welcome distraction from her personal life and she'd grown to enjoy the drawing and planning along with the productions she worked on at the theatre with Annabelle; at twenty-one, she felt old.

_**Two years previously**_

Kate gave birth to a girl, Katarina.

The baby's birth was premature, yet she survived. Kate and the baby's nanny were waving toys above Katarina's crib in the nursery at The Grange, six months later. It was a lighter, airier room than the one at Hareton Hall, decorated with pink curtains at Annabelle's insistence. There was a familiarity at The Grange which led to a certain type of contentment as Kate soothed her baby. Just as she was about to sing Katarina her favourite lullaby, Annabelle ran breathlessly into the room.

'Kate, I have to tell you something,' Belle whispered. 'The detective contacted me this morning; he's discovered money being deposited into Heath's bank account; they traced it to New York. Heath's been living over there.'

Kate was silent.

'Don't you see what that means, Kate?' she whispered. 'He's alive! We thought the worst when his bank account hadn't been touched.'

'Yes,' Kate said. 'I felt he was alive. What am I supposed to say? He abandoned me.' She turned and walked purposefully up the stairs. The wild haired girl she had once been was prematurely replaced by a grown up wife. Kate looked at herself in the mirror as she dressed in her old jeans, red sweater and expensive winter coat. All she saw in the reflection was a miserable young woman, a terrible mistake. What choice did she have? Kate had wanted a father for her child.

Months of wondering and searching for Heath who was untraceable had been hard on her. The man she loved had proved himself worse than unreliable. She knew she should be forgiving as Annabelle would no doubt be, yet she found it difficult to smile. If Heath did return, he was sure to be angry.

'He'll come to visit you, I know he will,' Annabelle said as she walked into Kate's room.

Kate just looked at her, barely smiling. They walked downstairs.

'Well it won't do much good now, will it? I'm going to see what Greta has made for lunch.' Kate glanced briefly at the parcel Annabelle had left for her on the dining room table.

'These are the photographs I took,' Annabelle added.

Annabelle had taken photography as one of her core subjects at Art College. She had a job as a gallery assistant in a Soho studio. Her photographs were artistically lit but practically framed, perfect for advertising a production such as the one Kate was now co-designing in the West End.

Kate's passion for painting had not subsided. She'd also completed a theatre design course and her sketches were much in demand. Motherhood, and the beginnings of her artistic career, had gone part way to rectifying the monotony of her days. Katarina and painting made her focus on the future.

That week, Harrison, his wife Frances and her young brother Hinton, had gone to Ireland to visit the premises of a new company. Edmund Hunt, Kate's husband, was spending the day at his office in the City. Kate had agreed to house sit at Hareton Hall that night with the baby and her nanny, but only to satisfy her sister-in-law's wishes.

Kate was working on one of her final designs for the play due to open the following month, and feeding Katarina, when she rushed up to the kitchen and hung her head over the sink. Though her stomach was flat, she felt unsettled and nauseated, again. The thought of bringing a new life into her world was quite shocking although she knew Edmund would be happy about it. Kate put the symptoms of pregnancy out of her mind. After Katarina and her nanny were settled upstairs, Kate decided to explore.

It was strange to pad around Hareton Hall in bare feet and her dressing gown for the first time in years. The memories were provoking a strong reaction in her.

The mansion was quiet but it still felt more like home than The Grange. She felt the absence of Heath and her father, everywhere she wandered. The usual staff had Sunday afternoon off, including Greta. Kate had turned all the chandelier lights on (the electricity bill was sure to annoy Harrison) and turned the downstairs music up. She wasn't that far away from being a teenager even though she was now a mother; she felt like softly dancing the roof off, if only to forget how much of a mess she'd made of everything.

When she finished moving to the music, she decided to explore the upper floors. She peeked into the playroom where Katarina was soundly asleep. The nanny, whom Edmund had insisted on employing (she had raised both him and Annabelle), was knitting a cardigan in the comfortable arm chair and placed her fingers to her lips. Kate quietly shut the door. Although the nanny was brilliant, Kate sometimes thought the woman considered her too young to be an adequate mother.

Wandering alone through the top floors, she was surprised to find her former bedroom was similar to the way she had left it. Her school mementos had been placed in boxes high in the cupboard and labelled in Franny's neat, clear, handwriting. Photographs from every year of her childhood and adolescence, as well as old videos, were stacked side by side.

It was kind of Frances not to have thrown them out, Kate thought. Previously, she'd had little to do with her sister-in-law though they now lived ten minutes apart. There was even a box of old school uniforms. Kate took out her blue blazer with red piping around the edges, the one she'd worn to boarding school in Scotland. Then she pulled a large, woven basket towards her. She intended to have a huge throw out, to leave the past behind her once and for all.

Cleaning up was busy work and mid-morning; half way through throwing out her old clothes, Kate became bored. She checked on Katarina, kissed her precious face, fed her, and then considered her clothing options. Kate dragged her old riding clothes from her wardrobe and pulled on high, polished black boots that matched her long, curly dark hair. Kate twisted her curls into a loose bun and grabbed her coat. It was true that Harrison had maintained the house but it was sure to be chaotic again soon with the imminent return of the rambunctious yet adorable Hinton.

On occasion she had found Hinton, a few years older than Katarina, standing by her cot and attempting to hold hands with the baby or teach her words she didn't know. He was a very protective, sweet natured child, although Kate constantly worried for his future in the care of Harrison. Yet Hinton's good nature seemed to bring out the best in everyone around him, including her brother.

Thirsty, she stomped to the kitchen, aware of her noisy feet on the polished floors. The music had stopped and the place was almost eerie. Kate missed her father, but not enough to live in the house that held the memory of him, Heath and of their shared childhood. Kate poured herself a large glass of water and drank it quickly. Almost as quickly, she grabbed her scarf and went outside to the stables, pulling the door shut behind her. The wind, which was rising across the Heath in the distance, along the walking tracks and riding trails, was harsh. Her lips were red and her cheeks flushed with cold and exercise.

Kate patted, brushed and saddled her horse but she decided to walk alongside Hero through the park trail. It was not a great day for riding in her possible condition. Although it started out sunny, it became cool, windy and overcast. Kate knew exactly where to find shelter when the storm that had earlier threatened to interrupt her afternoon, finally arrived, after she'd been walking Hero for half an hour. Kate removed her wedding ring, the one that rubbed on her finger with the reigns and placed it in her pocket. She wore her first one around her neck, close to her heart.

**Chapter Twenty-one**

_**Revenge**_

Hampstead Heath had a thin film of lavender mist hanging over it during winter as she headed for the Glass House. There were very few people in the meadow at this hour of the day. Kate was invigorated from the cool air in a way she wouldn't have been had she stayed inside. Her usual routine - a light lunch, nurse Katarina, read or do some yoga - before wading through the play script that lay in wait for her had been replaced by her ramble. She had more ideas about the design of the play she was working on and had brought paper with her to sketch the arboretum. The garden was the central motif in the play and she wanted to take another look at the architecture.

Kate tied her horse up and got him some water. As she did this, a familiar horse rode towards her, or maybe she just thought his markings were familiar. As she looked closer through the clearing, it was the rider she recognised. He was slightly older, leaner, yet unmistakably the man who had filled her every waking dream and now her nightmares.

Heath alighted from his horse in the easy manner of a country squire.

Kate looked over at him. Even from a distance, she could hardly believe he was real.

He walked towards her, slowly, with purpose.

Before they spoke she reached over when he paused to touch his face as if to ask the vision before her if he even existed.

'Heath?' She whispered.

'Yes,' he replied. 'It's me.'

'But…you've been gone…for three years. I tried to find you. What happened? How did you come to be here?'

'Perhaps I should be the one asking questions. I saw your marriage notice in the paper not long after we parted.'

Kate was silent for a moment.

'You left me,' she said.

Heath's face displayed a knowing, hardened expression with more than a twinge of anger.

'I am staying at the pub. I have business with Harrison in relation to Hareton Hall. I went around looking for him but there was no one at home. I saw your car in the driveway and I didn't think you'd be far. The horses were there - all except Hero. One of them was practically biting his way out of the stable, so I thought I'd take him out. He seems to remember me.'

Heath patted the animal and went to tie the reigns.

'Business… with Harrison?'

'Yes. Greta told me you'd be here. You might be interested to know that I am soon to be the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

'How?'

'Harrison mortgaged it to my company; he lost his money gambling. The house was going cheap and I put a down payment on it. I officially own it as of…about three minutes ago. '

Heath smiled. Kate knew she didn't have the full details of the matter but suddenly realized how good he must feel.

She visibly shivered as Heath took her gloved hand in his.

'I am to be your new neighbour Mrs Hunt.'

Kate sighed, never having doubted, in the faint possibility if he ever revealed himself to her again, Heath would one day be the stronger of them.

'And what of Harrison?'

'Oh, he can remain in the guest cottage until he's found another place to stay. It's all arranged.'

Together they walked in breathless silence towards the glass house where they had met as children. There were overgrown hothouse flowers and benches and comfortable chairs for lovers. The chairs had been unused all winter until Kate and Heath rested upon them, side by side. Again they sat in silence for what seemed the longest stretch of time. Actually it was only a few minutes.

Both former lovers were angry. Kate was almost speechless.

'Did you read the note I left?'

'Yes, you said you'd find me,' Kate replied softly. 'It wasn't enough. All those legal terms…none of them true.'

'I needed proof. Harrison told me we shared the same biological father…' He showed Kate the note.

_Forget your unnatural desires, _it read_. Apart from the fact that you are a monster there are few grounds for an annulment and marrying a close relative is one of them. I tried to keep you both apart for a reason. Kate is your half-sister. Mother left because she knew! That's what they were fighting about that night, more than ten years ago. I heard them! You are father's biological child. He said so himself…Do Kate a favour and leave her. I'll arrange an annulment at this end. We'll tell her you changed your mind. I'm sure she'll understand once she knows the truth. I tried to warn you. Thank me later, Harrison._

Kate shook her head after she read it.

'I am not surprise. Harrison told me of the supposed connection. I suspected he was lying.'

Heath was silent. Kate tore the letter up.

'Later, after I married Edmund he admitted it was another of his lies, designed to tear us apart - only this one worked,' Kate said regretfully.

Heath noticed Kate's scarlet riding jacket. It contrasted with her black riding boots and reminded him of blood. The colours suited her well. Blood reminded him of betrayal.

He would never admit that he envied her marriage and longed for revenge upon her family that went further than just the ownership of Hareton Hall. In any case, Kate must have expected the foreclosure on her childhood home since there had been talk all over town for months that Harrison was going broke and had dragged the family name into disrepute. Then he remembered that it was likely Kate barely knew anything. She rarely spoke to her brother.

'What have we done Heath?' she said after a long silence.

He could see her breath, cold in the air and longed more than ever to do what he'd always resisted doing; to do what he'd done in the endless nights of travel, parks and animal blood. Then, after he had money, there had been the empty living of hotel suites, women and elixir to help drown his misery. It had taken him months to trace his mother, to find out the truth. The specialist had told him he could be fairly sure Harrison's allegation was untrue but for total confirmation he'd have to locate his biological mother and trace some evidence of his biological father. It had all taken so much longer than he'd expected, several weeks. He'd been in virtual limbo in the meantime, not wanting to burden Kate with his misery after he'd tried to find her. He'd seen her through the windows of The Grange that night, looking so content.

He felt more empowered inside than ever since he'd allowed his true nature to emerge. Once he'd stopped worrying about Kate's thoughts he could begin to live the life he was born to live. He looked at her again, the veins in her wrist and neck, thumping, tormenting him.

Her hand moved to his and she looked at him pleadingly. In that moment, he was sure he hated her unfairly. The glimpse of the wedding ring near her neck convinced him he was right. His plan for vengeance had stirred in him ever since he'd seen Edmund kissing Kate in the window seat that night. Weeks after Heath and Kate married; Heath's transition phase began to stabilize. He wanted her back.

Kate looked at him accusingly.

'How can you look at me like that? You married another. You didn't wait as I asked you to. Harrison had drained the family funds and I now see what a good idea it was for you to marry richly and quickly and…to that spoilt brat Hunt. I see how easily an annulment was arranged, given the feigned reasoning that we were biologically…related. I can't believe you actually went through with the new marriage. Of course, it all makes perfect sense, given the way you were raised and your brother's distorted value system…'

'In my defence, there was a good reason. You abandoned me. Harrison finally admitted it wasn't true but by then I couldn't…locate you.'

'I came to find you, weeks later, after I'd made sure…everything was as it needed to be.'

'I was dragged to Verbier to recover from my broken heart. I had a skiing accident. I was unconscious for three days! I couldn't get a message to you. I looked for you everywhere. I tried to find you but you had…disappeared. I waited for you… long enough. You had simply, vanished. It was…logical for me to…marry Edmund, I had no choice…I never believed you would ever come back to me. Not after the note Harrison wrote.'

'I said I would return. Love is not logical Kate. I'm sure your mother taught you that…' He coughed into the sleeve of his jacket as he said this. Kate was alarmed by his thinness and pallor. He looked hungry.

'You are so cruel Heath. You know my mother taught me very little except how to leave.' The woman stood, but she did not move away from him. Just being near him gave her strength and courage. The scent of Kate's perfume was an elixir to Heath, as magical as her blood which he longed to drink. He moved closer.

'Stay,' Heath said. 'Please stay. No piece of paper should separate us.' He took her gloved hand, looking desperate for the first time and slumped into her shoulder. 'Please, get me my…drink. It's in the saddle bag.'

Kate got up and grabbed a flask, taking off the top and poured Heath some amber liquid.

'How is your…condition?'

Heath took a sip and looked at her as if he might eat her.

'Manageable.'

He'd torn the leg off a turkey and eaten it before he'd come to find her. At least the leg was cooked. He hadn't stooped to raw meat yet, unless it was a fresh animal kill.

By then, from the look on her face, Heath knew he had gone too far. Kate, like him, had had very little parental guidance. The girl turned on him as he regained his strength, lashing out…

'You don't know everything…you don't know anything! You went missing after our wedding, remember? I thought you'd abandoned me or worse, that you were dead! What did you expect?'

'I… I didn't want to hurt you with the truth about our family… what I've since learnt was false. I went for a walk to clear my head but the transition caused me to collapse in a gutter. I woke up three days later in a police station…'

'You should have known…Harrison would do anything to separate us.'

Kate looked away.

'I know… for that I owe you an apology.' Heath said. 'Harrison's lie was a shock to say the least. Something I wanted to spare you. To do that, I needed the truth. I needed to find my…birth mother.'

He did not wish to elaborate upon the murkier details of the conversation he'd had when Harrison had inferred Kate was a blood relation.

Kate looked away, 'I know,' was all she said.

'When I had proof, I contacted Greta. She begged me not to make trouble but I had to find you anyway. Then I learnt you'd gone skiing…with the Hunts.'

'You had disappeared. Annabelle offered comfort and support…'

'Yes, I know, and her brother…' Heath said sarcastically, 'You've always been perfectly capable of impressing your…admirers, Kate. I hear you are the talk of the theatre world, young designer of the season, your drawings and paintings nominated for an award…'

'Oh, you never cared about me having a career…how dare you joke about it now! We both know all that seems meaningless in relation to…all of this.'

Heath turned and held Kate by the shoulders, 'You're right, I never did care about _your career_ as you put it, because all I wanted was you…'

'And you had me…'

Heath laughed sardonically.

Kate continued '… You were the one who went missing, _remember_.'

'Yes and now look at you, married to someone else with barely three months between us. Harrison must have really pulled strings to have the annulment rushed through.'

Kate looked away.

'The paperwork was destroyed. It was all hushed up. No one except the family knew we were even married.'

**Chapter Twenty-two **

_**Reunion **_

He was tempted to twist her arm with more than a little bit of force. Tempted to kiss her wrist, plunge his teeth into it, suck her blood and drain the life out of her. But he held back. If she'd come too close, he didn't know if he'd be able to control himself. Since he'd turned twenty one, everything had changed. Even with medication, he spent his nights out hunting, baying for blood, preying on animals when he couldn't resist. So far, he'd drawn the line at innocent humans but he craved their energy, especially Kate's. Her blood had always been tempting to him.

'I waited for you to return,' Kate repeated, frustrated with the tone of the conversation, 'until I could wait no longer.' Her words were greeted with stony indifference as they walked together, yet apart. 'I would've waited for you forever, if you'd just sent me some word, a proper explanation.'

'Well, it didn't take you long to make your choice,' Heath said bitterly.

'You gave up too easily…' Kate said incredulously.

Heath continued to talk. 'Stupidly, I left quickly, without talking to you. I went to find the doctor on Harley Street; I thought he would be able to shed some light on Harrison's lies, give me proof we were not brother and sister. My specialist was abroad. By the time I walked back to the bedsit to find you, it was almost midday. I went past that tiny pub near Dean Street where people had already congregated and was caught in the middle of a fight on the footpath. I don't know how it happened but I was knocked out and found myself in the back of a van being taken for questioning by the police. They locked me up that night and as we didn't have the telephone, I couldn't speak to you. I passed out.

Without my supplies, things just went from bad to worse. I became delirious. When I woke, I was desperate to find you.

There was a girl and a man that night as I walked back to our flat, and they were fighting and he brought out a knife. There was no one else around and when he threatened her, then me… I… snapped. I did not know my full strength. It was the first time I ever… fed on a human. The girl fled. The man was alive when I left him but I felt so despicable. Still, I wanted to find you, though I could hardly face you. You weren't at the bedsit and…I believed he would have killed the girl if I hadn't…stopped him - but I was out of control by then. I vowed never to let myself become like that and to find out the truth about…us.'

Kate was shocked; she didn't know what to say.

'Perhaps in some cases…violence is justified. I am not afraid of you, Heath.'

'Their fight started with a few misplaced words and a punch being thrown out on the street…but ours started so much sooner. We were always from two different worlds, Kate, but two halves of the same whole, even so.'

Heath looked embarrassed as he told Kate the rest of the story.

'I tried to contact you. I'd spent the night locked up and a further day talking my way out of everything - it's a long story - there was no match to me on the man's person so they couldn't charge me. Oh, that's the latest thing, my…fingerprints have disappeared. And… when I look in the mirror, I barely see my image. But I'm still okay in the sun, as long as I wear this.' He pulled out the amulet her father had made sure he wore as a young child.

'I was very…angry when I got back to Hampstead. I felt…unworthy of you, but I was determined to find you. I had my answer from Dr Vincent and I was satisfied the necessary tests had been made to ensure we were not related. Then, I made my way back here to Hareton Hall and walked across this park. It was almost exactly three years ago today.

As I approached the house, Hareton Hall was lit up like a Christmas tree. I felt a pang of…envy, jealousy as if I didn't know how I'd react if I saw you. Kate, for the first time in my life, after what had just happened, I didn't trust myself around you. I was determined to demand your whereabouts from Harrison if you had been, as I believed you were…sent back to Switzerland. I'd already contacted the school after I returned to our empty bedsit, but they gave me nothing, because they weren't allowed to tell me anything. Then they suggested you might be at The Hall. I thought maybe Annabelle had told someone… that we planned to run away together…'

'No,' Kate said, 'she was loyal to us both…'

Heath continued…

'When I finally saw the inside of that house, through the big lower floor bay window where you always used to sit and read, I saw Hunt's face, and Annabelle's, laughing. There was a puppy in your arms and you looked happy. Harrison and Frances seemed so… self-satisfied on the couch. Harrison was playing the "good husband" and talking amiably to Frances. I could hardly contain my…rage when I saw your beautiful, smiling face in the corner room looking outside.'

'I was looking…for you.'

'Well…I'm glad you didn't see me.' Heath said resignedly.

'I'm not glad.'

'When I saw Hunt come over and hand you a gift, something inside me, changed.'

'It was Christmas…tradition…'

'I gathered that. But it was unbearable to me. He…kissed you.'

'The party was celebrating my recovery. I could hardly walk after the ski trip. I'd been in a coma and I'd woken up…and you had been missing for so long.'

'I know. But the gloating look on Harrison's face and Hunt's obvious attraction to you, made me angry. I felt like killing him. You kissed him back, Kate.'

'I was acting. I had no choice.'

'I think you were happy with them… with the security Hunt provided for you in that moment …like that. It seemed to be what you had always wanted.'

There was a long silence that hung between them like ice.

'I vowed revenge.'

Kate nodded slowly.

'I have since thought… I may have been…partly…responsible. Heath, I called everywhere asking for you prior to the day of my marriage.'

'I was… not fit for company after that moment. I stayed watching you in the shadows, my anger slowly submerged into whatever is left of my soul, along with the happiness on your face.'

'Like I said, I was pretending. You must have turned away before Hunt carried me to the dining room table. But if you hadn't, you may have realised why I couldn't walk there myself. My foot was bandaged. It had nothing to do with love.'

Heath said, 'I thought you had made your choice.'

'Never, I spent days in the bedsit crying over you before Greta came and found me. I was whisked away to Switzerland that weekend, it's true. But I planned to find you the moment I could walk again.'

Kate looked down at her muddy boots. The horses, sheltered, were ready to move again.

Kate stood up.

Heath grabbed hold of her wrist.

'Leave him. I cannot be without you.'

'Nor I you,' Kate said. 'But I have made a promise and I cannot just walk out on that promise. Not right now.'

'What about your promise to me?'

'You left me. I can't just…abandon the family who have been good to me.' She paused, 'Please, will you come to dinner tonight? We can talk after Hunt has gone to bed. He knows I think of you … fondly.'

Heath laughed.

'Hunt will do anything, at the moment, to please me.'

'Anything? Why?'

He looked at Kate's face.

Kate blinked and sat down.

'I must have stood up too quickly,' she said.

He studied her more closely, blood rising in her cheeks. He'd seen this look before. A girl he'd hung out with in New York, a waitress who became a friend and worked in one of the clubs where he'd played had been dating a guitarist. After they left the club they got married and she had a child six months later.

Perhaps Heath knew Kate so well he knew before she did. She reached out her hand to him and pulled him close to her. His hearing had become extremely good since he'd turned. It was one of the advantages of becoming immortal. He sunk to his knees and pressed his head into her chest. He could hear conversations through walls so why not babies through skin? The two heartbeats pounded his ear as she slumped into him - Kate's and the heartbeat of her unborn child. He felt sick to his stomach and twice as betrayed as she attempted to take his hand.

'Please, come to dinner at The Grange. I have to see you again and I can't put off the dinner party I promised Annabelle we'd have. She will be thrilled that you are to be the guest of honour.'

He flinched and moved away from Kate as she moved closer.

'Annabelle? Is she still living here?'

'Yes, The Grange is half hers, Heath.'

'Oh,' Heath said, disinterestedly.

'She's finished her Art Course and has her first commission to paint some houses in this borough. She's staying with us for a few months.' Kate added.

Heath backed away from the woman he loved more than himself, with a blank expression. He wasn't ready to give her up.

'I'll be over in the car at about eight,' he said dispassionately. 'After all, Hunt should meet his new neighbour.'

**Chapter Twenty-three**

_**Return**_

The car was sleek and black. Heath loved it above the others. He'd made so much money these last few years, more than he could ever need or want and he was surprised it hadn't made him happy.

'_There is nothing in the world that will make up for a lack of real friends and family,'_ Greta said to him once, when he was a child. He knew it to be true as he slumped into his bath, took his plasma capsules and washed them down with red wine. He'd wolfed down a roasted pheasant when he returned from his meeting with Kate, his mind reeling.

The previous week, Harrison was asleep in a heap at the table when a knock on the door woke him. Most of the staff had left by the time Heath arrived at Hareton Hall. He was surprised he'd left for America without telling his sister about the house.

'What are you doing here?' Harrison slurred, surprised when Heath hovered at the doorstep.

'Come in,' Greta said, 'I was just leaving.'

Heath smiled quietly. Harrison could not prevent his entry now that he'd been formally invited in.

'I gave you six weeks to get out, Harrison. You can either stay on and look after the stables or take your stuff and leave.'

'How dare you? I haven't told my wife or Hinton…'

Unbeknownst to them, Harrison had been gambling in a disreputable part of the West End most evenings. Heath and some of his work colleagues had seen him going from one establishment to another until Heath himself had challenged him to a game of poker where the wager on the house had been set in front of at least a dozen witnesses. Still, Heath reasoned, he hadn't forced him to sign the legal documents. Harrison had done that of his own accord.

'Well, you'd better tell them soon. I just came to drop off some belongings and pick up my suit…'

'You mean my father's?'

'He was my father too.'

'Adopted,' Harrison added slyly.

'Yes, and the only father I have known…a quality you would know nothing about. I have no idea how you could possibly imagine I'd be your…blood relation. Oh, that's right, you knew I wasn't. Thank you for finally ruining our happiness. You never heard such a conversation as you detailed to me in that note…did you?'

'Of course not, mother wanted to leave. She knew father had not had an affair with your mother. It was not his way. He was honourable.'

Heath moved quickly this time. Though Harrison was tough he was amazed at the strength in Heath's hands as he had him in a headlock on the kitchen table. Then he moved closer and Heath (although drunk by midday as usual) swore he saw fangs emerge from the man's mouth and moaned and screamed for mercy as Heath threw him, using all the strength he had to resist savaging him, onto the footpath by the scruff of his neck, like an animal.

When Harrison relayed the story to his psychiatrist days later, the doctor recommended stronger medication.

Harrison had been so shocked, he could barely speak. When he did, it was more of a whisper as Heath detailed the terms of his ownership…

'You'll come to a bad end charity case… even with all your new money.'

Heath threw Harrison's suitcase on the landing outside the door.

'That's just the kind of statement I'd expect from a daylight drunk. You have a wife and a child to support. Maybe you should start thinking about how you're going to do that after going through father's millions. Face it Harrison, this day was always going to come…'

'Am I really supposed to believe that you did all this because you lost Kate?' Harrison bawled.

'I'm serving you notice, Harrison. Either accept my offer to stay on as groom until you find a job, something that goes above and beyond what is legally expected of me - and you, Frances and Hinton can have the cottage - or leave. You have two hours to decide.'

Heath brushed past him as he walked to his car.

Harrison banged his fist on the window as Heath placed the keys in the ignition.

'You really are something, aren't you, Heath Spencer. I did you a favour when I kept you away from Kate, when I insinuated the truth of your dubious heritage.'

'You mean, made it up. Yes, something I'm eternally grateful for. You know nothing about my history, as you put it, but the thought of having you as a blood relation made my stomach turn. I got tested. Kate and I share no biological relation but we have always been of like mind. Perhaps that is stronger than biology. All you did Harrison, was spend enough energy to keep Kate and me apart… for a while, but not forever.'

'She's married to someone else.'

'Not for long. Get your stuff and take it to the guest house. You're lucky Hinton's so young or I'd show no mercy and throw you out on the street.'

Harrison pitched a rock at Heath's car but the alcohol had damaged his balance and it missed, smashing a window of the house instead.

'You nearly hit me,' Heath said, rolling down the window. 'I'll add that to your debts, shall I?'

Harrison slumped to the gravel.

'It's mid-afternoon Harrison,' Heath said. 'Get yourself sobered up.'

'You…you clean yourself up!' Harrison bawled.

Heath heard the older man screaming at him as he drove off in his sleek sports car. Harrison wobbled out of the house with a shot gun that he was too drunk to point in the right direction. Threats hardly bothered Heath. He'd proved himself impervious to bullets. Heath considered feeling bad for Harrison as he drove off, but he couldn't. The years of cruelty Harrison had inflicted on him as a child made pity impossible. Now the captive would become the captor. He did not worry for his own soul or for Kate's anymore. Their fates were linked, he was sure of it.

**Chapter Twenty-four**

_**Dinner Party **_

Heath stayed in Hampstead that night, at the pub he later bought.

I had the dated receipt amongst his letters**.** Harrison had agreed to leave The Hall the next day. He'd delivered a note to Heath at the pub and was taking the family on a trip, with what remained of his assets. They would arrange to have their belongings collected. Heath was officially the owner of Hareton Hall and Harrison had finally woken up sober.

In any case, Heath did not wish to return to his home that night. He'd always liked the old pub overlooking the grounds of Hampstead Heath and had a notion, with his new found wealth, to buy it.

He pulled a Savile Row suit, newly tailored, from the wardrobe. Heath needed to look his best tonight. He showered, combed his hair, drank some Magenta and cleaned his teeth. There were few things that interested him less than fashion but he was determined to make an effort for this dinner party. He felt good to go as he grabbed his room key and walked down the stairs to his car.

Heath arrived at The Grange soon after to find it lit up magnificently. The Georgian house was as fine as Kenwood House but The Grange, being tucked behind a veil of trees, was more secure and not open to the public. It was the palace Heath and Kate had grown up alongside, but Heath thought, with some minor alterations, Hareton Hall would be grander.

The invitation was for a dinner party of sorts. Kate, Hunt, Annabelle and himself were to be the only guests.

Heath was the last to arrive.

Annabelle had spent hours getting ready that night. She wore a long, blue, figure hugging dress that reached to her ankles. To match her sparkling designer heels, she wore an expensive diamond necklace that had been handed down through generations of Hunts.

The round dining room table was set grandly as though they were entertaining a guest of honour rather than an old friend. The chandeliers were on full power and candles were lit in rows on the wall, highlighting the minimalist design. The interiorshad been recently renovated. It was a house that had always haunted Heath and compelled Kate.

When Heath rang the doorbell, expecting the butler or housekeeper to greet him, he was surprised that Kate opened the door herself and invited him in. She stood there, in a red velvet jacket, black jeans and fresh boots. Her hair hung in ringlets down her back and she looked like a girl who'd just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Kate's stomach was flat and there was not a hint of her pregnancy, although she realised she should probably have warned Heath about Katarina, since there were family photographs all over the lounge room.

'Being richer suits you,' Heath said, pushing past her and making his way into the hallway.

Kate looked at Heath and smiled, ignoring his insinuation. The girl greeted him like an old friend, a little too warmly to be a favourite brother and a little too enthusiastically for Hunt's liking.

Edmund Hunt, seated in the drawing room, was finalizing his applications to law school and reading over the notes he'd written. He had been warned by Kate to be civil. His marriage, still in its early days, was fragile. Their child, Katarina, lay sleeping upstairs. Kate had not mentioned her to Heath but her photographs were dotted all over the drawing room. Edmund Hunt, desperate to please his wife, was on his best behaviour. Hunt was aware that of the two of them, he was the one who loved more.

Edmund still couldn't believe Kate had agreed to marry him. He knew banning her from seeing Heath at this point would never work. Trying to convince Kate the man was beneath her would also be hopeless. Kate, although raised with generations of old money, had never really set aside her obsession with Heath. Hunt was aware that his money and class would never be enough to compete with Kate's childhood obsession. In Hunt's view, possession was nine tenths of the law and Kate was his now. Their soon to be born child made him sure of this.

Annabelle had dressed formally for the occasion, Kate noticed. Whilst it had recently been no surprise to see her in jeans and an old, paint-splattered shirt, her sister-in-law was dressed to kill. Belle had also spent the afternoon at the hairdresser's having her blonde hair foiled and waved in the latest celebrity style.

Kate worried about her, and not for the reasons Annabelle suspected. Jealousy was not an emotion Kate felt easily and certainly not in the direction of Annabelle. But she suspected, or really had always known that Annabelle remained infatuated with Heath. His contempt for all her sister-in-law stood for (inherited wealth, class distinction, the divide between him and Kate) would run deeper and extend to contempt for Annabelle.

Heath's pallor seemed tanned; his clothes were tailored and expensive. Annabelle had done some research and informed Kate that he owned companies all over town. Kate had barely listened. She was unimpressed by the way Heath had brought Harrison low, even though she knew how much Harrison deserved it.

Heath was dressed in a formal suit under a pure cashmere overcoat. Only Kate knew the scarf he wore was her own. To Annabelle, who was sitting in the bay window seat - the same place Kate had sat in when she was recovering after the skiing incident, waiting or rather pining for Heath - this would not register.

Heath thought Kate looked like a movie star as he hovered in the hall. He tried to ignore her as he casually glanced at the photographs on the walls. Annabelle shone in the background, but he paid her scant attention in that moment. When his eyes had finished glancing at Kate's infant daughter (she looked to be about one in the photograph), Heath glanced back at Kate, then Annabelle.

Kate withdrew to the kitchen as Annabelle raced up to Heath, enthusiastically. Heath stood formally in the hallway.

'Hello Annabelle.'

'Hello Heath,' Annabelle replied happily. 'May I take your coat?'

Normally, the butler would have done this, but Annabelle had been quick to the mark after Greta wished them all good night and given the staff the night off. Annabelle took Heath's scarf and placed it on the hall table not far from Katarina's baby picture which Heath appeared not to notice.

When Annabelle reached over to take Heath's coat, he turned around quicker than she anticipated. To her surprise and delight, just as she was going to greet him with the customary European air kiss on both cheeks, he kissed her on the mouth instead. Heath showed no expression as Annabelle blushed again and stumbled to the coat rack feeling as light as air.

The visitor smiled warmly. 'You are looking lovely tonight, Annabelle,' he said. Annabelle was excited to hear her name spoken in his velvet voice. 'It's been too long. I haven't seen you in years,' he added.

Annabelle smiled shyly and blushed at the warm greeting and unexpected compliment she had received.

'We thought you had forgotten us,' Annabelle said, pretending to be slightly put out as they walked through to the drawing room.

'Not exactly, I work in finance now. My work took me… to America.'

'I read about you in the paper today: financial wiz kid and all that. They posted a lot of details in the article. Apparently you are the most sought after bachelor in England. You should have stayed in touch,' Annabelle beamed.

'Well, the important thing is I'm back in touch now,' he said, staring directly into her eyes.

Annabelle continued, 'and then I read all about how much money you donate to charity…'

'For tax purposes,' Heath added modestly.

Annabelle ignored his response and whispered, 'I always knew you were a good person, Heath.'

Heath rolled his eyes when no one was looking and loosened his tie. His mouth watered when he smelled the steaks sizzling in the kitchen. Kate, dressed in an old-fashioned apron and playing chef, began to worry that trusting Heath to be civil tonight was a mistake. However, concerned she might lose contact with him altogether and unable to face the thought, she had hastily taken the risk to combine the three people now closest to her in the same room.

'I'm sorry not to have kept in touch, Annabelle. I suppose…real life gets in the way,' Heath added, changing the subject as Annabelle handed him a glass of red wine.

Hunt stood up when Heath entered the room as Kate re-introduced the men. They shook hands and talked about the stock market as Heath's gaze wandered, drinking in the family portraits.

During dinner, where Heath was most amiable to Hunt and Kate, it was as if the seductive kiss between him and Annabelle had never happened.

The first course was heating on the stove. Greta had left all the instructions as she departed but Kate kept getting up to check on everything. The table had been set perfectly and Heath recognised Greta's hand in all of the decorations. He knew Kate must have wanted the night to be perfect for some reason. Perhaps she somehow expected his re-introduction to the family would be a happy occasion.

Kate, who had been finalizing the sketches for Annabelle's play, had little to do with the domestic running of the house. She had been avidly researching the best food to serve at dinner parties…and the recipe for Heath's favourite dish of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

Heath walked into the kitchen, leaving brother and sister alone to chat after demolishing the first course of lobster soup. Heath offered to bring the plates and stack them in the sink. It was the first time he'd ever done menial work in a kitchen since Greta had allowed him to wipe the dishes as a six-year-old. He'd done it so badly she never asked him again. He disliked kitchen tasks but for tonight, he'd made an exception. He knew women actually liked men who pretended to be domesticated and he was keen to impress Annabelle. Heath found it funny because he thought Kate would have to be out of her mind to really be fooled by his act, but she played along.

Kate smiled, 'This is all going remarkably well, considering.'

'I'm not sure what you mean,' Heath said.

Kate leaned in and whispered, 'considering you hate my husband.'

Heath looked into her eyes, 'I don't hate him. The thought of him barely enters my mind. By the way, I saw the family portrait. How old is your daughter?'

'Katarina is just a toddler.'

'Don't you think I should meet her?'

'Not tonight. She's asleep.'

Heath shrugged. Kate sighed disbelievingly as she took the dinner plates from the top shelf above the stove. Heath looked on impatiently studying Kate's perfect curves as she retrieved various forks and spoons. The desire to plunge his retracted fangs into her neck, the curve in her arm, the crease behind her knee - demolish her altogether - was more intense than ever.

'Anything else I can do?' Heath asked standing close to her. 'I have to say, I thought Hunt would have more…staff.'

'Don't be stupid, Heath. Greta only comes in because I begged her not to leave me. Most of the servants quit ages ago. Hardly anyone in London has servants anymore. We barely afford the groom even though Hunt is, as you know, comfortable.'

Heath laughed.

'Is that meant to be a joke? '

Kate sighed. 'Of course I understand how fortunate we are. I volunteer at the local charity now.'

'Listen to you. You sound so…pious.'

'It's more than you've ever done.'

'True, but then I was born a little closer to the poverty line than you were and it's not a place I relished. Anyway, you needn't be so proud of your ability to marry well and your husband's ability to inherit money.'

'You think I married well? I thought you'd abandoned me Heath. What was I supposed to do? You disappeared for three years.' she whispered, wary that Annabelle and Edmund might hear.

'Yes, that was…unfortunate.'

'That's an understatement. If you need to blame someone, you should at least partly blame yourself.'

Heath reached for Kate when he was sure the others were in conversation in the other room. He leant in to her hair as he used to when they were younger and she hugged him, greedily, expectantly, wanting more.

Then, just as he contemplated kissing her perfect lips, he spoke.

'Oh Kate,' Heath shook his head. 'I'm just imagining what a boring little country wife you have become…'

Kate pushed him away.

'Stop it Heath, you're being horrible…'

Heath laughed softly.

'What did you expect when you invited me here?' he whispered.

'Why are we whispering? Never mind…' Kate stacked the pudding dishes. 'I just wanted us to have…'

'What,' he whispered, 'an evening reminiscing? Like the good old days! Did you hide the shot guns? Hunt can barely hide his disdain for having to dine with the help…'

'That's not fair, he's not a snob…he was…thrilled I'd invited you home.'

'I can't believe you're sticking up for him.' She was close to him now. He heard the heart beats and spoke out of turn, accusingly.

'You're pregnant aren't you? That's why you won't leave him,' Heath said as he transported the spoons to the tray.

'Heath…he's…'

'He's what? Your husband…the man you preferred to sleep with over me? The man you…love? Does he know you married him for his money, _because_ of a misunderstanding with me?'

'Now, you're being nasty…' Kate whispered, cautioning him with her intonation.

'Only now?' he replied.

Just then, Annabelle came wandering in, her long skirt floating into the room behind her as if she were part of an intangible mirage or some bizarre circus. She smiled at Heath, unable to contain her thrill at being in the same vicinity as this unknowable, beautiful man. The wind outside the kitchen windows groaned across the grounds of the estate. Winter air that had turned to a deep chill over the last few days warned them of the icy weather and snow soon to follow.

Heath felt the chill then smiled again at Annabelle. 'I don't miss the cold. America is warmer. By the way, I was just telling Kate how lovely you look tonight, Annabelle.'

'Thank you.' Annabelle said, clearly thrilled but obviously surprised to be complimented so publicly.

'I can see this is not going to be simple,' Kate said under her breath as she opened the oven door.

'Let me help you with that,' Heath said, obligingly. 'Kate was never one for the kitchen,' he said to Annabelle, 'and we wouldn't want you lifting anything heavy in your condition.'

Annabelle beamed, 'Isn't it exciting?'

'Very,' Heath said.

'Kate's told you…'

'I guessed,' Heath responded. The sound of the tiny heartbeat drummed in Heath's ears as soon as he was close to Kate. He wanted to savage her and was sated only by a double dose of Magenta before he arrived. Annabelle gazed at Heath warmly. She was thinking what an amiable and successful man he had become.

Hunt, sitting at the dining room table patiently, was closing the half opened window as Kate returned with the gravy boat.

'Darling, I told you we should have kept the staff tonight,' he said, deluded about the rising cost of living.

'It's just friends, Edmund. I didn't want anything to be formal.'

Now it was Edmund's turn to roll his eyes.

'I rather think I would have sooner entertained a rapper or a recently paroled dealer…'

'Shh…' Kate said. 'Heath is a guest… he's family.'

'He's not _my_ family,' Hunt said as Heath entered the room. It wasn't his style to pretend not to hear, to play the upper class games Kate's family were raised playing, but for tonight he would make an exception. All would continue along smoothly, for the moment.

They talked of old school acquaintances and the stock market. Edmund, steadied by Katherine, had been warned not to discuss the missing years of their lives.

Hunt boasted of Kate's brief but shining design of the classic play being talked about in the London theatre world and congratulated Heath on his obvious business successes.

'Yes,' Heath said, 'and, I'm sure Kate has told you, I'm…as of three minutes ago… the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

Hunt raised his eyebrows and looked shocked. Then he looked directly at Kate.

'Darling, you never told me this.'

Kate looked surprised. 'I only just found out…'

'Harrison lost it in a bet…and now, it's mine…' Heath added as Annabelle scooped raspberry coulis over her ice-cream. Not entirely oblivious to the family drama, she looked up wide-eyed. It was exciting that Heath was to be their newest neighbour. She would get to see him regularly. And now that Kate was married, her sister-in-law couldn't resent their friendship. Annabelle smiled warmly at Heath over her pudding. Heath looked at the raspberry sauce and imagined drinking her blood.

'But I thought… Oh, I still have a few of the pictures I was commissioned to make, left to do…of the Hall…'

'And you shall,' Heath added jubilantly.

Kate looked up, 'Would anyone like coffee?' she asked, trying to change the subject.

'Yes, please,' Heath said. 'I find myself absolutely starving for pudding, and I never eat sweets. That must have been the finest meal you've ever cooked tonight, Kate. What an excellent little wife you've made…the second time around,' he said condescendingly.

Hunt stared at him. 'We didn't ask you here to insult us,' he said.

'Mmm,' Heath replied, 'well, you didn't ask me here at all, did you?'

'Heath,' Kate cautioned.

'No, it must be said, out with it. Kate's _my_ wife now, not yours.'

Heath just looked at him and laughed.

'Yes, well, I can see by the light on her wedding ring - nearly knocked me out when we ran into each other riding yesterday. Oh, that's right. You weren't wearing one, were you?' Heath said sarcastically.

Kate shook her head.

'Let's all go into the drawing room and have a drink,' Annabelle suggested.

'Actually,' Heath announced as he stood up, 'I find I'm tired after all my…acquisitions today.' He looked straight at Kate, then at Annabelle.

'I trust you know you will be welcome at Hareton Hall anytime, Annabelle, to finish your paintings and photographs. The same goes for my new neighbours. Perhaps we could go riding again soon Kate.'

Kate looked up. In the still and without distractions, he could read her mind, _'Don't…'_ she thought, _'don't tell him…that I love you more…even after the fact that you've succeeded in making a fool out of me tonight…'_

Hunt looked at Kate, surprised she had already been socializing with this man who he had feared, it must be said, admired yes, and as a school boy, hated… Though now, he felt a slight twinge of pity for the person who was so evidently in love with what was his.

Later that night, Kate lay awake, reading one of her favourite novels, _Jane Eyre_. She read about the delusional woman in the attic, the first wife and wondered how much of the crazy it took to send a woman mad. Her husband had tossed and turned after Heath left but he had no inkling of the power Heath had over her, of how torn she now was. Underneath, she longed to be only with Heath.

That was how little Edmund understood her.

And who knew? Maybe it was a marriage of convenience, just as Heath had insinuated. Their partnership was a merge of her finances and Edmund's property. But what choice did she have back then?

Kate lay awake for hours in the dark, thinking about Annabelle's loving glances towards Heath at the dinner table. It would be a lie to say, as she tossed and turned all night, she didn't have any inkling what Heath might do next.

**Chapter Twenty-five**

_**Scholarship - Present Day**_

Slowly, Katarina and Hinton became friends.

WhenKatarina arrived at Hareton Hall at nine in the morning to help Hinton revise his written applications for the Art prize, she felt a pool of excitement in the pit of her stomach. She could hardly wait to see him again. Hinton had confided in her that he thought his written skills were lacking and Katarina had offered to help him present, "the best possible version of himself", as she put it. He had readily accepted and together they made a first draft.

The Hall, once the grandest of houses, had creeping plants growing from its foundations now, as if it were slowly crumbling from the inside. Over the past few months, the wiring needed fixing, the swimming pool had grown thick with leaves, the tennis court was left untended and the stables were nearly empty. The owner had become more and more reclusive.

Hinton didn't want to tell her why he'd felt a desire stronger than any natural one to drink blood. It was a one in ten thousand possibility, according to Heath's specialist, but somehow his condition matched that of his adopted parent. A trace had been done and it seemed somehow Hinton and Heath shared the same affliction.

Their lineage, a distant, improbable vampire link, was not all they had in common. Hinton and Heath shared a desire to feed, a fear of the sunlight and their own fading images in mirrors. Heath's was now an outline and soon there would be nothing. Today, Hinton's image in the hallway mirror had dulled considerably. Instead of a medallion, Hinton wore a signet ring that Heath had given him when he was small, to protect him from the sun. Hinton resolved not to focus on the negatives of his condition.

The winner of the scholarship was due to receive an apartment and a small stipend abroad. Prague would be darker and rainier than many places and Hinton quite liked the idea of that kind of weather, for obvious reasons. He wanted to get away. Still, only one person from the whole college would be chosen on the strength of their exhibit.

Katarina had insisted on taking him in her new car for lunch in Hampstead High Street. Her father had bought the car for her as a bribe for choosing to study in London instead of travelling far from home. Previously, the thought of Katarina leaving him was something her loving father had found nearly impossible to bear. Katarina, having recently turned eighteen, was experiencing a freedom she had longed for after passing her driving test. The girl was yet to tell her father that she had become friendly with Heath, Linus and Hinton. That was an "off limits" conversation.

It was a beautiful day, rare and summery, like the ones her father had told her about when she was first born. In those days, when she was a child, she vaguely remembered her young mother taking her to Hampstead Heath for picnics. Her studious father would hold her hand, walk her across the road and teach her to ride. When she was old enough she rode park trails on her pony and later, her horse. By the time she was a teenager, she'd become an expert, riding properly in various events on Hero's Daughter.

When Katarina asked about her mother's family, all her father told her was that he'd never been fond of Heath as a child. He grew up with nannies and in boarding schools as men of his class and in his generation did but repeatedly told Katarina he loved her - something his own family had never said to him. Katarina knew this was true and that he meant well. He had tried not to burden her with this now adult concept of his quiet, contained, isolated youth but one day he told his daughter something that surprised her.

'I never saw my parents show any affection to one another,' he told Katarina when they were out riding together.

'Something of an overshare, Papa,' she'd replied.

Katarina realised how different her upbringing had been from her father's.

How strange and quiet the heath had become in winter, her father thought, when he first bundled this little girl up and took her for long walks to Kenwood House. As she grew older, and had her own nanny, the family would often go for picnics in the grounds of the heath. Though the gardens of their own house were magnificent, Hunt wanted Katarina to have the normal childhood that had eluded him, or as normal as it was possible for her to have, so he took her exploring.

Being in his daughter's company pleased Edmund Hunt endlessly. He remembered so many dinners with his own father, separated by an expanse of dining room table. He was never allowed to chatter during meals. He determined to raise Katarina differently. Together they played a game called… _What if? _From the time Katarina could talk she was encouraged to ask questions: '_What if the world was coloured pink? What if the grass was blue? What if Mummy hadn't left?'_ This question ended the game. There were some questions Hunt wouldn't answer.

As she grew older he worried for her and for himself. His daughter was sweet-natured and generous. She had gifted him further understanding of the world beyond his front door. Katarina made Hunt see life for what it was, rather than in isolation and in relation to his needs and those of his family. He knew he loved her so much he would never be able to say "no" to her and dreaded the day she would ask him for something he could not or did not wish to give her.

Like the truth.

The morning Katarina and Hinton decided to drive over to Hampstead High Street, the place, busy with post-Christmas bargain hunters, was busy. Together they sat in the French patisserie and ordered coffee, sandwiches and sweet cakes. Hinton barely ate in her presence and when he did, he picked the chicken off his plate and chewed that first.

'Do you know why our families don't speak?' Katarina asked as she stirred sugar into her latte.

'Age old feud,' Hinton said. 'I think Linus knows the whole story. I only know my version of it. I'm sure your father would have a different account of what happened.'

'He wouldn't be happy if he knew we were all in contact, that's for sure. But I'm so glad you and Linus and I are friends.'

'Is that what we are?' Hinton looked at her quickly, wondering for a moment if she would say something more.

In response, Katarina looked into his eyes as Hinton took her hand. His fingers were pleasantly cool.

'I want to…thank you for helping me so much.'

Hinton slipped a tiny packet in the saucer of her tea cup. The envelope contained a delicate, gold bracelet with the initials KH carved on the inside. It must have cost Hinton at least a month of the wages he'd earned, working at the pub.

Katarina smiled as Hinton helped her to fasten the clasp around her wrist.

'Thank you,' she said, finishing her toast. Then she did something that surprised him. Katarina leant over and kissed him with her honey lips.

Hinton's face flushed red. He wasn't really sure what to say next. He'd dated girls, lots of them, but he'd never felt for anyone the way he felt for Katarina. He shyly took her hand and kissed it.

They had been reading together every day. Heath still got the odd word the wrong way round, but had improved considerably. He was sure the extra study he did with the tutor he'd hired (encouraged by Katarina) had gone a long way to making words much easier for him to read. His world had opened up and he was less afraid of what the future held when she was near. He didn't want to let go of her fingers.

'Over these months …you helped me to have some confidence, not just in reading, but in…myself.'

Katarina was speechless. She had looked forward to every moment she spent with Hinton walking through Hampstead and working together in the studio in Soho. He dreaded what he had to tell her so instead he passed her some documents.

'You need to read something,' Hinton said, 'before you decide if you want to…be my girlfriend…'

Katarina smiled, it was the first time he'd used that word. Then she frowned, what possible barrier stood in the way of this, her first real romance?

Hinton passed her his medical records.

'You need to be aware,' he said, 'that I'm not…normal.'

Katarina looked at him quizzically, unsure of the correct response. Hinton got up and left the coffee shop as Katarina opened the cover of the first folder marked: **Type A Requirements**.

Later that day, Hinton was in the college studio, quietly painting. He had a small supply of Magenta that he kept in the student common room kitchen in a flask. He quietly sucked on lunch through a straw. Since he'd turned twenty-one his desire for human blood had been overwhelming but this daily treat of Magenta kept it at bay. Vampiricism was another reason he and his uncle both liked and loathed each other.

Heath had been the first to identify him as a fellow bloodsucker. Hinton had been so full of self-loathing he was almost glad Harrison and Franny had never lived to see him develop from hybrid to vampire. Harrison had drunk himself to death in his early thirties and his wife, Frances, had been killed in a nightclub in Paris at the age of twenty-six. That's how Hinton wound up with Heath. It was discovered Heath and Frances (remarkably) shared a supernatural gene. Although Heath had not been biologically related to Harrison or Kate, he was a very distant cousin (two hundred years removed) to Frances and Hinton.

Hinton didn't share Heath's passion for chicken but he gnawed on a cooked chop that had been specially marinated, pan fried and wrapped in foil. He'd left Katarina with the open folder on her desk and didn't want to think about what her reaction might be.

Hinton painted freely. He was sure with brush strokes in a way that he had never been with words. He disliked any form of authority but was aware of his need to improve his basic reading skills. He was embarrassed to be this age, to be this bright (he had no trouble comprehending the world and had a photographic memory for numbers and people's names…), yet to still be such a terrible reader was confronting. He'd long ago accepted his daily need for blood but he was ashamed of his lack of education. He'd stuttered as a child and somehow he'd overcome this affliction in his teens. If Katarina believed in him, he felt sure, with her help, he could overcome his wicked desires.

He liked the solitude of the studio, deep in the quiet hub of the empty Art College.

Nobody was here late in the afternoon and there was not a soul to suggest changes to what he was creating. He thought of Katarina and checked the messages on his mobile; nothing. He wondered what she was thinking but didn't want to press her until she had fully digested what the words in that folder meant.

They'd been working on abstract expressionism in class, but for the first time in weeks Hinton's brush seemed to have a mind of its own as he removed the drying artwork from his desk and set to work on a blank canvas attached to a wooden easel.

He sketched the outline from a photograph taken on his mobile but then he relied on the memory of her perfect face. As if writing a first draft, he sketched with abandon, adding the base with great ease and little emphasis on detail. But then, as the hours wore on, and afternoon became evening, he built the intricate shades of colour that became skin on his subject's neck. The textures made him uneasy. Still, with no answer from the girl, his first layer of the image was becoming more complex, like a photograph of Katarina's face. Hinton leaned in and painted two perfect red dots on the paper frail skin above her collar bone. Then he bowed his head in his hands and sighed.

That afternoon, Katarina re-read Hinton's file.

It was less shocking than she'd suspected.

The word 'blood' stood out in all its satin, red stained essence.

The description of Hinton's "type" was unusual but not conclusive. For years now, there had been talk in the press about a rogue species; human-vampires. Born with a weak strain of vampiricism, they developed fully over a period of time and into adulthood. It was different for males and females. The females could linger for up to twenty years in hibernation and it was impossible to tell the difference between hybrids and human beings. Katarina had not taken as much notice as she should have but she remembered these details from a recent article on the web.

She wanted to discover as many facts as she could; she wanted to find out what this strain meant for them and how she could help. Regardless of words on paper, Hinton was still Hinton. Katarina realized this as she read the doctor's dramatic introduction: _he may not sleep at night, he may not wish to eat…it may be possible he lives far beyond the years of normal humans… _The words "immortality", "bloodsucker", "vanished", "feeding", "type A", "hunger", "forever", jumped out at her on the page. Katarina resolved to do some more research that evening.

Upon waking, after Katarina had had a few hours' sleep and the enormity of Hinton's condition had set in, Hinton would be greeted with the message - **it's okay. I love you and that doesn't change. I want to help in any way possible. Meet you tomorrow afternoon Hareton Hall. **

Katarina was determined to finish her Art folio the next day (of a series of photographs of Hareton Hall) using different levels of light. The girl also intended to start reading the files and finish the journals. She knew there was a secret that went beyond Hinton. The hush ran through the family. There had been whispers of a human-hybrid species for years in the media, but no one she ever knew had met an actual vampire; whole or hybrid. They kept to themselves, or maybe they just hid in the shadows.

Hinton, in retrospect, had displayed all the symptoms she'd researched on the web upon waking. His specialist had scrawled in the files… 'The young man has cravings for protein, then citrus, then…animal blood…which may develop upon adulthood as a craving for humans…' Katarina looked away. Further details were in the files that she forced herself to read.

The boy displayed a nocturnal instinct as a child. He'd tried to bite his own mother (at birth) and she had declared him 'impossible' to raise.

It was true. Hinton had gravitated towards Heath as a child. His sister, Frances, had stayed at the Hall briefly until she fled to Paris. Harrison had been discovered trying to beat Hinton with a stick, before he drank himself into oblivion. That part was true; it was like history repeating itself.

Katarina was surprised as she read the social worker's reports sitting in the car. Her desire to help and protect Hinton grew stronger with every sentence.

**Chapter Twenty-six**

_**Secrets**_

When Katarina arrived at The Hall the next afternoon, Heath was out riding and no one answered the door. Since she'd never met her mother as an adult, she relied on the memories of others. In her bag, she kept her fine cashmere scarf, and longed for more information about the woman in the photographs. Katarina knew there were many images of the young Kate in the boxes hidden in the cupboard. The man who had loved her, perhaps as much as her father (if not more), kept these images tucked away, hidden, along with her mother's memory.

Katarina got out of her car. She wore a scarlet coat today and the fierce, biting air made her catch her breath as she walked up to the house. Her dark curls fell in ringlets down her back. The girl took out her mother's old-fashioned film camera. The camera took amazing photographs and she wanted the particular effect film could create. Katarina snapped The Hall in the morning light, from a distance, then close up on the door handle as the gargoyles threatened her.

There was an eerie creak, ever present, when Katarina tiptoed into the house.

Heath suddenly stomped in through the kitchen, taking off his muddy boots in the larder.

'Who's there?' he bawled.

'Just me,' Katarina said softly.

'Oh,' he replied, 'I'd forgotten you were coming. Don't go to the top floor…renovations,' he grumbled, hurrying upstairs to shower and change.

'I just wanted to take your picture…'

'No…' he replied quickly.

He'd always refused to have his photograph taken. It would be a pointless exercise but Katarina was not to know that. She had begun to get used to his mercurial personality and shrugged to herself as she wandered through The Hall. Tucked in a corner, she discovered the Blue Room, which was lit with soft lights, chandeliers hanging from the roof and a hall of mirrors. It was so amazing it had once been featured in architectural magazines.

The girl wandered through the room catching sight of Heath ushering his dog out of the library. As Katarina glanced into the wall of reflections, hers was there but Heath's was missing. Of course, Katarina thought. The strangeness filled her world.

Katarina was nervous, but as she created art by snapping photographs, her nerves disappeared. By mid-morning, it helped that she had not seen a vision of the woman who'd appeared the night of the storm, nor had she heard her. Silence was littered by the sound of paper being ripped and thrown in the rubbish bin once Heath returned from walking the dog. There was a ray of light under the door of Heath's library and Katarina got the feeling he did not wish to be disturbed.

Minutes later, the silence was marked by the loud noise Katarina made, as she unlocked her mother's bedroom with Hinton's key. Inside, the room was all but empty. It was like a danceless ballroom with billowing long curtains in place of skirts and open windows and a wet floor where the rain had swept in, for company. As she stood, breathless, sensing a visitor apart from herself, Katarina heard a chewing sound and a striped boiled sweet wrapper fell from the ceiling onto her hair, like a feather.

Immediately, Katarina looked up; nothing. She noticed the floor around her feet was littered with discarded candy wrappers. They had dropped from the shadows in the roof. Katarina peered closer. In the corner of the large room there was a pile of messy, muddied, riding clothes. The jodhpurs and a jacket appeared to have been recently worn and discarded. As Katarina went to touch the fabric, a bird screeched outside the window. Katarina jumped. She wanted to take a closer look inside the room when she heard a voice behind her and a man took her arm.

'I told you not to go in here,' Heath said.

He was standing to her right, fully dressed for the office.

'Whose clothes?'

Heath led her out of the room.

'Please…just ignore what you see here. Most of it is…old washing. Greta must have left it. I've made us some tea.'

Katarina was so stunned she followed meekly. The interior of the room loomed behind like a secret as they walked downstairs.

Heath seemed oblivious to the anomalies of Hareton Hall. In the kitchen, he was more interested in demolishing the honey soy chicken drumsticks Greta had left sealed in a dish. He ate at least three of these while Katarina stood there, sipping tea, even though it was barely mid-morning.

They observed the view from the parlour of a now famous statue of one of their ancestors (an author or poet, no doubt, Katty thought) that was all but obscured behind a fence. Occasionally, tourists stopped by in summer to take photographs. Sometimes the iron gates would open quicker than they realised and usher those same tourists out of the way. Who knows what these tourists had really seen through the windows.

'I never planned to open the house and grounds up to the public, but with the worldwide financial situation, my advisors convinced me it was the smart thing to do. I want this house to stay in the family…forever,' he added quietly.

Katarina changed the film in her camera as they sat at the table watching day turn to dusk.

'May I?' Katarina took Heath's photograph as he turned to take his car keys from the fruit ball. The crystal bowl was full of peaches and Italian oranges.

'Hinton told me you know our secret. You must have worked it out by now. You can take as many photographs of me as you like. The images won't come out. I have to go to my office, there's something going on at work. Greta is coming around soon. Don't return to the rooms upstairs. They're locked now. Just shut the door when you leave,' Heath said, offering no further explanation. Not fond of idle chit chat, he stood up and walked away.

Katarina was left to ponder her predicament. Then she remembered that Hinton told her he used to scale the wall to his room when he was a child.

Katarina wandered outside. The gardens grew wild. According to her mother's journals, they were once perfectly manicured. Although now unkempt, they appeared lusher than any of her mother's recollections. The wind began to howl as Katarina followed the path from the surrounding grounds of the estate, towards the lap pool (covered in a blanket of leaves) and past the stables. Katarina noticed a few security cameras which unnerved her, but there were no lights on, so she assumed like everything else, they were in a state of disrepair. It was remarkable how useless the cameras would be in tracking the real inhabitants of the estate, Katarina thought, but then she supposed that was not the reason they were installed. At the gates, beyond the stables, Katarina saw her first sign of human life.

There was an elderly groom working with a horse - the other horse remained under cover. Both animals were black and sleek with sweat. It was obvious Heath had not been out riding alone.

'Good Afternoon, Miss. Katarina isn't it?' he mumbled, looking at her quizzically, as if he'd seen a ghost.

'Good Afternoon,' Katarina replied.

'I'm George. I've been working for the Spencers… forever. Greta said you'd be coming. She got held up at her meeting. She collects her grandson from his pre-school on Fridays…'

'Oh,' Katarina said. 'That's okay. The…owner has given me permission to take photographs over there.'

George shook his head as she walked towards the garden. Seconds later, rain started to spit from the sky and Katarina found herself standing near the outside wall that led to the upper floors of the house, contemplating how to climb it.

She'd forgotten it was Friday; she'd promised Linus and Hinton that she'd meet them for dinner tonight. Katarina would have to be quick. She would also try to act as normally as possible with Hinton. They hadn't had a moment alone to talk and Katarina wasn't sure what to say, but she knew she had less and less recollection of her real life outside the family she was beginning to understand. She glanced over her shoulder. George was nowhere to be seen. Quickly, she climbed the wall, using the strength and muscles she'd developed from years of riding. When Katarina reached the window, she lifted the glass easily and crawled through the dusty ledge, landing on her feet inside her mother's old room.

She looked above her, to the roof of the room. It was empty. There was nothing except chandeliers. Then she walked to the hallway and up the stairs. They creaked with every step she took. The girl was compelled to walk higher, to the forbidden floor. Linus had told her where Heath had stashed the keys and she retrieved them from his desk.

When Katarina reached the attic, the door was slightly ajar. The curtains were open and blowing in the wind. Rain splayed the sill. The door did not creak when she pushed it further. The rain stopped; birds sang. Outside, a rainbow appeared. She stood silent as the door quietly closed behind her, untouched.

It was quieter and lighter up here than she imagined. There were no cobwebs. In the corner lay another pile of girls' clothes, used and unused, thrown into a washing basket. At the top of the pile lay the same bunch of riding clothes, recently worn. There were boots with fresh mud on them discarded in the corner of the room.

Kate looked at the carpet; no footprints. Then she looked at the window sill. Mud dripped upon it. An exaltation of larks outside the window announced her intrusion.

The fine hairs on Katarina's arms stood up. When she tried to take a photograph through the closed window, the black covering in her camera froze. The birds hushed and through the silence, Katarina heard only the softness of her breathing and her beating heart. She sighed and leaned into the bar nailed on to the attic wall. It occurred to her then that the whole room had been converted into some kind of ballet studio. There were floor length mirrors along one entire wall. The roof of Hareton Hall loomed above her like one of the great baroque ceilings she'd seen in Italy on a school trip. Only the outside scenery, the wrought iron gate, fragile in the mist, placed her at Hareton Hall as opposed to some kind of Netherworld.

Just then, a bird flew in through the window, startling Katarina who crouched onto the floor. A scream rang out before she realized it was hers. When Katarina stopped screaming, the sound of another breath took over.

Slowly, slowly, Katarina raised her head until she looked directly above her. Hovering in the roof beams was a young woman. Sleeping, eyes closed, hair matted across her eyes, her face was obscured. She was curled up in pink cotton pyjamas and seemed no older than twenty-one although it was difficult to tell in the dark. The tiny hint of a corner cobweb touched the edge of her hair. Her arms were folded across her chest. She was cocooned in a pink, mohair blanket.

Katarina's scream woke her and the hybrid girl somersaulted down from the rafters. In a split second she back flipped off the high beam and landed on her feet. The young woman, a mirror image of Katarina, opened her eyes where she landed. Then she stood and drank in Katarina's face as if she could hardly believe the vision was real. With the threat of tears in her eyes, the beautiful hybrid uncrossed her arms and reached out her hand. She walked towards Katarina with an open palm. In the same moment, her image disappeared into shadows, leaving nothing but air.

The objects in the attic - an antique hairbrush, some ballet shoes in a basket, a used pink towel with cream lace edging, more wrappers of lollipops and sweets - also disappeared in that moment. The only thing Katarina had left was a memory. She stood frozen. Katarina felt sure no one would believe her if she told them what she saw. The girl's face had been identical to her own.

The teenage girl backed out of the room then turned and ran down the stairs, two at a time. Her camera strap was still wrapped around her wrist and she heard the snap in sunlight as the film started automatically, winding again.

George, the groundsman, hovered at the front door.

'The master won't be happy about you wandering through the house alone.'

'He gave me permission to take photographs,' Katarina sniffed. 'Besides, he's not my master!' Katarina added. 'Nor yours. Do you… Do you know what… _who_ is in this house?

George raised his eyes and pulled some leaves out of the rake he held.

'Yes.' He spoke in a thick, Northern accent. Katarina could still hear the high, sweet voice of a Lark, singing in the rafters.

'Did you hear that?' Katarina asked aloud.

He nodded. 'There's been talk of… bloodsuckers here for years. Some like to refer to them as ghosts…makes people feel better I suppose. It's because they're up all night,' he added. The pretty tune stopped and all that remained was the noise of George's rake, as if he'd already forgotten what he said.

Reality seemed to elude all who visited The Hall, except her. Katarina felt sure the secrets held the key to the mystery of her family. The vampire girl in the roof was similar to her and to…her mother. Katarina needed answers.

George simply stared into the distance.

Katarina waited on the front steps. Greta had texted to apologise and re-schedule. It was all that kept Katarina from running away forever. It was late in the day by then and already the sun was setting.

'They say memory is something that exists in a person's mind forever; we just have to know how to unlock it when we forget something.' George said out of the blue.

'You must have a lot of memories of this place,' Katarina replied.

'Oh yes, Miss. What I have seen… ' he sighed as he walked towards the shed.

**Chapter Twenty-seven**

_**The Girl in The Attic**_

Hinton had a bad feeling. He texted Katarina and they agreed to meet in the Glass House. They could go to dinner at The Grange after they'd had a chance to speak. At least outside was safer and, still needing more external shots of the heath in twilight, Katarina lifted the latch of the iron gate. The entrance to the private garden was the exact place she had read about in her mother's journal.

The gate led to a maze that in turn spilt into an abandoned part of the heath. Katarina wore her walking boots as she rambled in her rolled up jeans, a long coat and scarf draped around her shoulders. As the winter evening closed in on her, Katarina buttoned up her coat and pulled the belt tight around her tiny waist. The young girl walked towards the now private arboretum, largely abandoned in winter and known only to those who lived close by. The directions had been detailed in her mother's journal. Her father had taken her there, only once, as a child.

The wind howled and Katarina's camera tossed and whipped around her wrist. She suddenly wished she'd modernized her instrument. If she'd had a passion for digital, the camera would not be so heavy or so much trouble.

Almost immediately and without warning, the air had turned to pre-snow iciness. Katarina could see her breath and soft flecks of powder fell around her feet. Autumn had been so unpredictable this year. As ice began to spit from the sky, Katarina stumbled inside the shelter.

The glass house, located behind a woodland meadow, had been restored in recent years. It was so beautiful that she resolved to take Hinton here. When Katarina thought of Hinton, she smiled. Their tutoring sessions had started playfully enough but then Hinton seemed to improve exponentially. She was certain his initial unfriendliness towards her had been related to his secrets and not his arrogance. It was a wonder Hinton was the person he was, when she considered how many challenges he had had - the loss of his parents, the discovery of his rare needs. She was proud of him. Hinton had the courage to seek acceptance however weird and bizarre his lineage.

Somehow, everything would work out. There was a quote from a Shakespearean sonnet she had read at school that came to mind: _Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds… O no! It is an ever-fixed mark / That looks on tempests and is never shaken…_

The deep thrill she felt inside at the merest thought of seeing him again was unlike anything she had experienced. She wondered if he felt the same and hoped that he did.

Katarina knew for certain that her father would not be happy about her connection to the Spencers, and would never have encouraged their meeting in the first place. In just a few weeks, the course of her life had altered completely. Katarina felt sure of her decision to support Hinton as she sat in the garden seat waiting for him.

Her breath was visible on the glass now. It was heating up as Katarina waited patiently for Hinton who had just texted her to say he was on his way. She unwound her scarf, took off her woollen snood and pulled off her gloves. As she did so, she dropped one of them on the ground and reached to pick it up.

Hadn't Linus, taking into account his stupid theatrical superstitions, once told her, that, "in the theatre a lady should never retrieve her own glove. Instead, she should wait for another to pick it up for her." Katarina, knowing how silly this seemed, reached down for the glove but couldn't find it in the shadows.

Finally, hunched under the chair and looking for the glove, she was confronted with the words of ancient lovers - or they seemed ancient to her.

At the base of the tree, behind the arboretum chair were the words HEATH & KATE 1988 carved into the growing wood. Like a child, Kate wound her fingers over the engraving, forgetting all about her missing glove in the process. An onlooker might have thought the glove had simply disappeared or been taken by a ghost. Outside, the wind drove a branch into the glass wall which frightened Katarina and made her turn around suddenly to see a grown man in a long coat, standing, illuminated by lightening in the darkness.

'Hinton can't come,' Heath said.

Katarina looked up so quickly she slipped and Heath moved and caught her by the arm.

'I came home from the city to collect a file I left. George said you'd be here.'

'I…I was just…'

'Tutoring Hinton? Yes, he told me. He's certainly improving. Well, anything would be an improvement. That boy's spelling is atrocious and no tutor I've paid has ever done anything for him.' Heath seemed annoyed. 'George told me you've been…inside the attic, taking photographs. Good luck, the images won't develop.'

It was time for a little bit of honesty, Katarina thought, as they both walked outside to her Uncle's sleek, waiting car.

'Never mind, there is honour in the attempt,' Katarina said. Heath walked quickly and Katarina asked directly, 'Who is the girl in the attic?'

Heath paused for a moment and then responded. 'She is a hybrid, a human transitioning into a vampire who has lived at Hareton Hall longer than me. There were complications with her transition. It has taken longer than expected. You must know there is strangeness in this… family'

'Yes. So I've gathered. I've been told some things about Hinton. But, I'm not just his tutor. I'm his friend. And it's pretty obvious Hareton Hall is haunted.'

Heath smiled at the use of her old fashioned word.

'The house has always attracted comment,' was all he added.

The sleek Jaguar was waiting on the other side of the park and they seemed to reach the car in double quick time as Heath hurried Katarina along.

'Get in,' Heath said as he reversed the car. 'Listen to me. Hinton is a player. He doesn't have friends who are girls.'

Katarina looked at him sharply. 'Well, he does now.'

There was silence for a moment as Heath digested this.

Katarina changed the subject. 'Is that why I can't see your breath?'

Heath was lost for words for the first time as they drove through the winding road towards her house. He did not answer her question directly. 'Now, there's a bit more of your mother in you,' he responded. 'You can't see my breath… because it's not cold enough.'

'You could see mine. Why is there a… girl in the attic?'

Katarina looked down, jealous that he knew so much more about the cocooned hybrid than she did.

'What do you mean?'

'She looked like me, sleeping on the ledge, and I look like my mother.'

'Katarina… you're imagining things. I can take you there now and the attic will be empty. Yes, it has been said the girl haunts the house but you have to forget this. It will bring you no comfort. You can never touch her or speak to her… or even see her properly. I know Linus took you to one of his wild parties. I can only imagine what they get up to there. You're not…on anything are you? I mean anything that might make you hallucinate.'

'No,' Katarina said quickly.

'Ah… there's the fire.'

'What do you mean?'

'The fire that your mother had in her personality.'

Katarina cringed. 'Is that why you liked her?'

'I, I suppose so,' Heath said.

'Are you going to tell me the truth?'

'I'm going to try, but not now.' he responded.

'When?'

'Soon. In the meantime, read your mother's journal. I know you have it.'

Katarina glanced at Heath incredulously.

The man didn't want to talk any more tonight. This girl was half his age, far too young to understand the depth of his feelings for her mother. He was in no mood for explaining the supernatural. Not now. He was tired; a long day trading stocks and shares will do that to a man.

He was also concerned that the cousins were getting close. It wasn't meant to happen like this, so far out of his control. His son had been given instructions to befriend then dump her, and it wasn't really going to plan now that Hinton had taken it further and just left it at "befriend her". Didn't he realise how much Heath hated her father? How little they owed the Hunts? It was time to end this stupid game.

Heath pulled up suddenly.

'Where are we going?' Katarina asked.

'To The Grange, your father is expecting you. I called him. The dinner date has been cancelled. Hinton and Linus sent me to tell you. Neither of them could get away from having to work late.'

They drove in silence, the short way, before arriving at the gravel driveway of The Grange.

'Would you like to come inside?' Katarina offered. 'It's very warm and cosy compared to The Hall.'

Heath contemplated her offer for a moment. 'I suppose you would think that. But I went to dinner at The Grange once and the atmosphere just about froze ice.'

Katarina looked startled.

'The snow seems to have settled, go on then. You're safe to walk up the path. I'll stay here until you've gone inside.'

Katarina slammed the door loudly as she got out of Heath's car.

Heath was quite annoyed at himself. This young girl was making him less brash, kinder. It didn't suit him at all, and she'd discovered Kate's hiding place and the glass house, which was irritating. How long before she discovered even more secrets?

Once again, Heath didn't like the thought of her becoming too close, though it was his desire that she and Hinton… well, ultimately he wanted The Grange and it hadn't been on the market, ever. Katarina was heir. It was important his plan proceed. Heath was glad she hadn't acknowledged the tree markings he and Kate had carved on that bitterly cold afternoon. It was so long ago now. The girl must have seen them. He longed for a return to those days, for Kate to come back to him. He had waited so long to unlock the past.

In the distance, The Grange reminded him of Annabelle.

**Chapter Twenty-eight **

_**Annabelle **_

The day after the infamous Grange dinner party, Heath decided to ring Annabelle. He asked her to come to dinner with him. Bored with the usual pattern: work, money, a feeding frenzy sated by the local blood bank - he needed a distraction. He'd been denying his true nature for too long, but there was very little alternative in polite society. Besides, Kate had moved on.

He would do the same.

That evening, Annabel arrived at his office in her work clothes. She'd been promoted at the gallery to Publicity Officer and her expensive blue suit shimmered under the lights as Heath gave her a tour of the new company premises. Afterwards, they went to dinner. Every night the following week, they did the same.

Sometimes they met up in Soho near the gallery where Annabelle was working with a more experienced Art Historian. She hoped to manage the gallery one day and Heath was surprised at her entrepreneurial vision. Annabelle was delighted by Heath's availability and newly amenable nature. He was like a new person, genuinely complementary of her work in the gallery, the place Kate one day planned to display some of her pictures.

They'd been going out for about six weeks when they met for lunch in a popular restaurant with long glass windows overlooking the Thames. Annabelle had a frown as she scanned the lunch menu. Heath once preferred pubs but his new job came with an expense account that he felt obligated to use. Annabelle was very impressed with this, but barely ordered anything.

'I'll have the soup please,' Annabelle said to the waiter who seemed unsure, as if it was his first day.

'Typical,' Heath thought, as he noticed Annabelle eating like a bird.

After they'd eaten, Annabelle told him about her day and Heath pretended to be interested. He knew he'd have to try a little harder if he wanted to pass the six-week boyfriend stage with Annabelle.

'Heath…did you hear me?'

Miles away, Heath had tuned out and was staring through the window at the panoramic London views. This was not a good sign. He was wondering how he'd dis-entangle himself from the possibility of an actual relationship with this woman whom he'd thought of as a friend - at worst, a plan. Sensing this, Annabelle did something unusual. She shocked him.

'Did you hear me Heath?'

Annabelle burst into tears as she talked.

Heath, sensing her need, couldn't believe his good fortune. Though never very interested in problems of a female nature, he'd have to make an exception in this instance. The words "unexpected pregnancy" gave him a chance to play the hero, no questions asked and also to get back at the woman he loved. The circumstances were too good to resist. He could take the plan further than he'd initially intended.

'I…I don't know what to do,' she gulped as she talked, irritating Heath who was nothing less than riveted by her out of character tale. It shouldn't have surprised him; Annabelle was needy and unpredictable. She'd barely waited for him to pay for dinner the third time they'd dated before she'd arranged his seduction in a hotel room. He knew he'd become a person Kate disliked and he didn't care. Perhaps his recently acquired egotism needed to be kept in check. The truth was he'd planned for days to spend the night with Annabelle. Still, he hadn't encountered anything but enthusiasm from her. Annabelle was almost entirely predictable and her neediness for his love was no less than riveting to a man who, since Kate's betrayal, was almost entirely devoid of emotion.

He knew Kate would think less of him for having almost no feelings for Annabelle yet taking things further with her. Since Kate had abandoned him and married someone else, he felt she had no right to an opinion. He'd been out clubbing and fanging and going home with whomever, since he'd read Kate's marriage notice in the paper years ago.

Now Heath wanted to use and discard anything and everyone he encountered. Most of all, he wanted to make Kate and her family pay for their transgressions, for leaving him alone as a small child, for beating him and, in Kate's case, for choosing someone else. Annabelle had needed little inducement from Heath to re-form a romantic attachment towards him that had never existed on his part. They had spent the night together after just one bottle of wine. Admittedly, she'd done most of the drinking. He had to give her some credit as she stared at him with her big, tearful eyes. The look of love on her face was implacable.

That night was a distant memory to Heath and he'd purposely not phoned her the next day.

After he'd impressed her with the cheap thrill of an exclusive hotel and his undivided attention, that one night with Annabelle had ended in the usual disappointment as he woke up beside her the next day. He did not need reminding that she was not Kate. Annabelle's arm across his chest represented her neediness, not his. Heath had sat on the lounge chair opposite her after he'd dressed, resisting the urge to run off early and leave her lying there alone.

That morning, a plan had begun to form. He'd left a respectable length of time between the first meeting and trying to impress her at Claridges. This was nothing less than Annabelle was used to, given her spoilt upbringing. He smiled inwardly as he realized she and Kate had at least one thing in common.

She was connected to the only woman he'd ever loved and that connection would serve a higher purpose; revenge.

Heath tried not to dislike her as she sat opposite him in the restaurant. She was attractive enough, nothing like her sister-in-law which really should have been a point in Annabelle's favour. Kate, beautiful and goddess-like, was also disloyal - Heath would never forgive her. He found Annabelle emotionally needy and thus high-maintenance and even a little bit boring, but she also held the keys to The Grange, a property he wished to purchase.

Heath was surprised when Annabelle spluttered out in sobs her baby news. He had been careful and made sure he looked empathetic as he sipped his blood orange juice mixed with Magenta.

He'd learnt to control his desires to drain his lovers, especially the ones he liked and his specialist had warned him that there was a chance he could pro-create. If he did, his offspring would only have a small chance of inheriting his hybrid gene. A boy child would have a sixty percent chance of being a fully-fledged bloodsucker. A girl child would carry the gene but likely be human. Heath hoped for a girl. He'd never want a child to suffer the way he had. He had no idea how he would explain himself to Annabelle. He'd tried to tell her about his freakiness, but she refused to listen. When he was tempted to fang, her meek compliance repelled him, and he held back. She still held little appeal. To Heath, Annabelle was bloodless.

All she said was, 'I know you are different. Kate has warned me but I don't care.'

He knew it was his call - either way Annabelle would raise his child.

'Annabelle, stop crying, there is no need for that,' he said softly, feigning sympathy which Annabelle misinterpreted as empathy. (They should have been more careful. They'd been careful, or so he thought). He'd lately started to read the thoughts of people close to him. It was a habit he'd tried to control but as he tuned in to Annabelle all he could hear in her mind was, 'please offer…please do the right thing…'

Heath stared out the window, bored with the woes of human life. This news should have excited him, he was sure of it. Once, the prospect of creating a family would have been grounding, essential. But now, he just stared into the abyss of eternity, the cruelty of outliving those he raised and dared to love in return.

Heath viewed the river and its many bridges, the skyline along the houses of parliament and thought what a wonderful city to behold. The bloodsuckers who'd come before him had told many stories about Edwardian England. Evenings were filled with tales of beautiful women, dark cobbled lanes, ruby carpeted theatre halls and eager street vendors. His ancestors drank brandy seated around log fires during their cold, mansion nights. And here was the chance to add his lineage.

He realized he was in control and wasn't proud of the fact that he'd made Annabelle feel beholden, when all along he'd wanted something beyond what was obvious to her. Marrying Annabelle would make Kate feel what he felt. The situation was meant to be. He looked towards the boats and the line of the shore that carried cargo and supported both ancient buildings and high rises. He wondered how far one of those boats could carry him if he kidnapped Kate and forced her to stay away from her poisonous family and all that was familiar until she was his, and only his, forever more. He thought about the time he'd gone to meet her in the glass house and wished they'd never parted.

He paused before he spoke. In his fantasies, the only source of comfort to him was a reversal of betrayal.

'Here, dry your tears,' he said, handing Annabelle an unused handkerchief.

Annabelle pressed it under her eyes.

'I have a solution. Your child shall have a father, Annabelle. We'll get married. I brought you here today to tell you…well, to ask you to marry me anyway. I'm not suggesting for a minute that this hasn't surprised me, but we needn't let it derail our lives…'

Annabelle looked at him with a surprised expression on her face. She used an old-fashioned phrase, "You could have knocked me over with a feather," when she announced her intentions to Kate later that evening, just as Heath imagined she would. He only wished he could have seen Kate's face when Annabelle told Kate that Heath had asked her to marry him and that she'd said "yes". Kate had guessed Heath was up to something but she also knew there was nothing she could do. She was married to Edmund now, she was having his child.

Over breakfast a week later, Edmund raised the subject of Annabelle with his wife.

'I feel as if I have lost a sister,' Hunt said, as he read the finance news. 'But never mind, she will come to her senses, eventually - and when she does I shall not be so forgiving. I think I shall re-structure the family trusts, make it harder for him to get his hands on her property… '

'Annabelle is pregnant,' Kate said, her hand on her own expanding stomach.

Hunt put down his newspaper, but delivered the calm, rational words Kate had come to expect from him.

'Then I suppose it will be a while before we see her again.'

The wedding was a lavish affair. The impending nuptials were announced in the most conservative broadsheet newspapers and covered in all the glossy magazines. Kate attended, of course, in a pink silk dress, fashionable and ruched at the shoulder. It was a close family affair and Hunt had told Kate she must attend.

Kate couldn't describe how she felt, sitting in the reception as the young couple danced their first dance. They looked amazing together - Annabelle so blonde and pretty like the sun, Heath so dark and handsome, like night.

**Chapter Twenty-nine **

_**Glass House**_

In retrospect, he had tried to show enthusiasm for the marriage.

As they grew apart, Annabelle was unaware they'd never really been together, except as friends and briefly, lovers. If his wife had ever asked, he would have told her everything. Deep down, he knew the truth; Annabelle didn't want to know.

Work was always his excuse.

The office needed him - the businesses. The family fortune required overseeing now that Harrison had drunk himself into despair and lost most of the shares that had remained in his name. Harrison sold the rest to Heath's company for a third of what they were worth. Of this recent business deal, he was not ashamed. He knew Kate, whom he hadn't spoken to for months, would be angry at him for stooping to Harrison's level.

The adoption of Hinton had not brought the family any closer together and Heath made more excuses to stay out of the house. Heath's career was escalating and he was expanding the company overseas, preparing to leave London for Asia for three months.

'I'm asking you not to go,' Annabelle said. 'It's too soon with the baby.'

'Well Annabelle, you knew where this was going when you married me. I can't abandon my career; it's important.'

'For what? You've earned more money than we could ever use and you have mine. You've spent half your life trying to get back at Harrison, now you've succeeded. You own his house, his companies.'

'Co-own. Remember it's mortgaged.'

'The same thing, you will own it. And my brother, you won't even speak to Hunt.'

'It is an understatement to say we didn't get along at school…'

'But we are adults now, Heath; I just want you to forget…'

Annabelle put her hands on her husband's face. Normally her blood did not appeal to him overly, but he hadn't taken his vitamins and was low on plasma. He pushed her hand away, afraid the yearning to feed and munch on the cool blue vein in her wrist would repel her. If only he could share with her his longings, his issues, himself. Perhaps the marriage would have had a chance. But, let's face it, she wasn't Kate. He knew Annabelle would run from him when she discovered the truth. He was sure of it.

Annabelle, for her part, suspected Heath was not normal from the earliest days of their marriage. She thought he might need therapy but he brushed her away when she tried to talk to him about his mood swings, as she called them. He'd always been cold towards her, Annabelle realized in retrospect. She had thought Hinton and the baby would bring them together but after he'd satisfied himself that the foetus would be "normal" (going so far as to take her to a strange specialist in Harley Street when she seemed overly fond of lamb chops), Heath had distanced himself from her once again.

Every person was worthy of love. It seemed to Annabelle that Heath had received more from the marriage than she had. Annabelle only expected her husband to love her, yet he made her feel unworthy. Sometimes he looked at her as if she was air and Belle caught him looking at Kate's old photographs more than once. Annabelle didn't even want to think about her sister-in-law. She was sure it was their love that had wrecked her marriage. On other occasions she realised that Heath was the sort of man who would have found it hard to make any marriage work.

Belle regretted the loss of her only female friend. She missed being close to her sister-in-law. Months earlier, Kate had pleaded with Annabelle not to marry Heath and Annabelle hated to admit Kate was right.

'He only wants to hurt you…he wants to hurt me.'

'How can you say that, Kate? Why do you think you are the only person worthy of love?' Annabelle asked.

'It's not like that,' Kate had replied.

'Not like what?'

'Heath and I…we grew up together…I know him. He's not like other people, he's…different…' Annabelle misunderstood her intentions almost entirely.

'He still loves you…doesn't he?'

'I…I don't think Heath's capable of love anymore…he…uses women and he's not above using you for his own purposes,' Kate had warned her.

'What purposes? He's already got his own money. Yes, our family is wealthy but so is Heath…'

'It's not like that. He wants ownership, power. First it was Harrison, now it's Edmund… once he marries you, he controls you. He wants to hurt me…promised me he'd get me back, for marrying Edmund…'

'Why did you marry my brother, Kate? I've always wondered…'

'Because… I loved him.'

'Because you loved him or because you needed him? Heath wasn't there and my brother was! Well now I need someone Kate and you can't stop me from being with him…'

'I'm trying to warn you… he will make your life very difficult Annabelle.'

Annabelle had packed her suitcase.

'Promise me you'll give me a chance, Kate. Stay away from us until after the baby is born.'

'If that is what you wish, Annabelle, but you are making an enormous mistake. You barely know this person. Heath is not like you. He's strong but angry and he's vengeful. He'll take all of his frustrations out on you…'

'I don't care,' Annabelle raged for the first time in her life. 'I love him.'

Kate was not surprised and she wished her sister-in-law well but suddenly they were like strangers in the same room.

'You know what your words do Kate? They make me more anxious than ever to leave this house…tonight.'

Kate sat on the bed; she knew she had tried to reveal Heath's full nature to Annabelle but it had backfired. In fact, she'd made the situation worse. Kate had just alienated her only female friend.

'I cannot say I'm surprised,' Hunt said later. 'I spent hours trying to talk her out of the marriage last night, but there was nothing to be done.'

Edmund leaned in to kiss his wife on the cheek. Kate pulled away.

'Annabelle is very determined to make this mistake,' Kate said.

One night, after they were married, unable to contain himself as Annabelle kissed him, Heath sunk his fangs into her neck (the taste of her blood was expectedly bitter to him). He knew, even after she'd fled the house, they could never be friends again.

Annabelle, endlessly forgiving, wanted to try but he could never explain his true condition or his sense of unworthiness. There seemed little point, especially after Annabelle had finally lost it and screamed at him for being a freak. The next day, Annabelle fled to Cornwall and the family estate. It was just until the baby was born, or so she'd said.

He didn't blame Annabelle. He was glad, in some ways, to see the back of her. He was becoming exactly what he was born to be, an animal. Soon there would not be a shred of humanity left in him. He littered his wardrobe with discarded packets of plasma and when the maid found the empty packages she screamed. He wasn't proud of who he was or what he'd done but after his wife left, he reconnected with his specialist and had a new elixir designed for him, Magenta Plus. This liquid began to control the variant in his condition.

When Annabelle returned to Hareton Hall, she occupied a separate bedroom. Heath was surprised Annabelle didn't leave him permanently. His wife had reverted to type and wanted to keep up appearances at all costs. Heath could read her thoughts by the time she returned and he knew she would run off once the baby was born, perhaps return to The Grange, but never to him. He thought she would leave again after catching him gorging discarded plasma from a plastic bag after a particularly long day at the office. He'd married her for all the wrong reasons; to get back at Kate and Hunt; to possess her and her property. Who could blame her? He'd respect her more for leaving. Deep down, he should have been more careful, controlled himself more around her. He resolved not to be such a fang freak in the bedroom.

In truth, he was surprised Annabelle had stayed as long as she had. He knew she only tried for the sake of the baby and he wished he could be a better man for her, could love her even, but his heart always belonged to someone else.

After she left, everyone left. Heath stopped taking his medication and began to drink too much elixir again. This resulted in an imbalance in his system and disturbing side-effects. He craved blood…human blood but had learnt how not to kill, how to just take enough, how to control himself. This control came from the part of him that was still fully human.

Heath started to bring home girlfriends, randomly. This was an easy thing to do since he was so good-looking and hugely rich. None of them compared to Kate. Always, Heath was dissatisfied.

Greta was disgusted by his immoral behaviour and resigned, telling him to join a twelve step recovery program and get himself back on track with his medication. She sent his Harley Street specialist for a home visit the day she left and whispered that she would call to check on him in a few days to re-negotiate the details of her employment contract.

During that time, Heath detoxed and was put under careful observation until he finally got himself back on track. He did some soul searching. In truth, none of the Spencers appeared to make good husbands, yet he wasn't a Spencer, not really. He contemplated researching his bloodline but that would take him far from Kate and he didn't want to leave her again. Though they hadn't spoken for weeks, he knew she was close by at The Grange.

It had been six months since he'd seen Kate and Greta had told him news of her pregnancy. After Heath married, he'd sent her running back to her weak and irritating husband. At the time, he was glad to see Kate go. He'd watched her turn and run out of the arboretum that night. He thought she deserved his indifference and was glad to bestow it upon her.

Only he hadn't felt indifferent afterwards.

He could still feel her under his skin. With every breath, he thought of her, couldn't stop dreaming about her. He felt she must be feeling the same. His senses were more acute, even though he'd been denying them.

**Chapter Thirty**

**First Night**

At the Grange, Kate was finalizing new sketches for another play. There was talk of working on designs for the Art direction of a big American film that was being made over summer not far from Hampstead.

Kate wrote all her fears and longings in her journals, something she had enjoyed doing since her earliest memories were recorded. She placed the journals in a space at the back of her wardrobe.

Her own pregnancy gave her some comfort, although she couldn't help but feel somehow the child growing within her was an alien. Occasionally, she went walking across Hampstead Heath holding the tiny hand of Katarina, who had just begun to toddle. Her daughter gave her endless hours of joy.

As she leant down to pull her child's knitted hat over Katarina's lush, dark curls, Kate was struck by her resemblance to Heath. It was impossible for him not to know. Edmund did. He had told her he didn't care; that they should marry anyway and start a family of their own; that Heath had likely been killed or disappeared never to return. They'd been hunting hybrids back then. This was a few years before the Vampire Act had been passed giving hybrids the same rights as humans, theoretically.

Edmund Hunt had been a good, kind, loving husband and father. He doted on little Katarina who adored him. Yet, Kate was haunted by her decision.

Kate longed to go back in time, to the night she and Heath had run away and they had married as teenagers in love in the tiny church in Chelsea. They had spent barely one night together before the note was delivered that had revealed a possible connection, a lie that changed everything.

'To everlasting love,' Heath had toasted her in the tiny pub, 'and my beautiful wife. I love you Kate Spencer and I will love you forever.'

Kate smiled, knowing she felt the same, knowing that in that moment there was nothing she loved more than secret marriages and the man before her. The love of her dreams sat later on their hotel bed, with its new mattress and sheets. Heath's perfect chest revealed his hard body, forbidden beauty and immense yet dangerous perfection. Heath had nuzzled into her wrist as Kate wound her body around his. She was sure he was tempted to bite but he never did. It was almost as if they were the same person. That night, they lay together on the bed, the vial of elixir half-empty.

'It worked,' Kate said. 'And you stayed in control…sort of,' she smiled, rubbing her wrist where the nuzzle of Heath's lips had left a slight red mark. Heath felt human and invincible, sleepy for the first time in years. 'I love you,' Kate said.

They were simple words but Heath had waited a lifetime to hear them.

'There is nothing I can say to that, except, I love you more,' he said, kissing her again. Kate could not believe that was true.

They bathed and dressed for dinner, contemplating their imminent return to the world as husband and wife. Kate was pale at the prospect and began to look less like the honeymooning bride and more like a frightened school girl as she contemplated their departure from the hotel. Heath took his pills and drank some plasma outside on the balcony. Kate remembered the note that contained not a shred of truth. The words had been for Heath's eyes only.

Kate thought about the truth as she gathered wildflowers with Katarina. Harrison had always played hard and fast with his lies. But of course, the letter he'd written was the reason she and Heath had parted; the reason Kate had sought sanctuary on that skiing holiday; the reason she'd had time alone to imagine herself with Edmund. The tests were arranged and were conclusive. Harrison had lied. But the whole process took more than a month and in the meantime, Heath disappeared. She was told he had died, most likely from exposure and lack of blood.

_And there he lives_, Kate thought, as she glanced over at Hareton Hall from the safe distance of the Arboretum.

Inside The Hall, Heath sat listening to his telephone messages on that day.

He hadn't seen Kate's face for a long time. Greta occasionally took Hinton to the park to play with his cousin. Heath didn't know about this. Kate always asked after them.

When Hinton turned three, Harrison fled the Guest house, a crazy drunk. He had mostly left Hinton with Greta once Hinton's desire to bite had become almost uncontrollable. Hinton displayed many of the characteristics that Heath had. A mild form of Magenta sated his thirst. Neither Harrison nor Frances understood the child's condition and were happy when Greta agreed to keep him with her. After Frances disappeared in Paris, Harrison went mad. He drank all day and refused to hold down any kind of work.

Heath stepped in and offered to adopt Hinton along with the house and Harrison couldn't have cared less by then. Although the specialist assured Heath the Spencers were not even a distant genetic relation, Heath knew somehow, he and Frances had once been related. Heath felt closer to Hinton, who ate hungrily in the kitchen. Hinton was blissfully unaware of all that had become of his family. He gravitated towards Heath, a father and fellow bloodsucker. Heath hoped the world Hinton grew up in would be more accepting than the one he'd had to hide in, as he shared a piece of chicken with the child who gnawed hungrily with his first teeth and gave Heath a winning smile.

**Chapter Thirty-one **

_**Revelations**_

Once Kate heard about the trouble in Annabelle's marriage, Kate decided it was time to speak to Heath, alone.

Kate was rugged up in her usual riding gear and had the car keys in her hand, making a rattling noise which woke her sleeping husband. She'd woken up early and told Edmund that she was going for a walk.

'At six in the morning, darling?' he asked sleepily. 'Should you really be going out in your condition? The air is like ice outside.'

'Of course,' Kate said. 'I have the car. I intend to walk the easy path. It's my new regime,' she said, sarcastically. 'Besides, exercise is good for the baby. Now go back to sleep…darling,' she added as an afterthought.

Kate pulled on her overcoat and looked into the mirror. At eighteen, when Kate had married Edmund, she'd felt older than her years. Now she was barely twenty-one and she had never told Heath why she had married Edmund so quickly; never told Heath why the pictures hadn't been splashed all over the papers; why the marriage hadn't been announced. He probably guessed and didn't care. There were so many mistakes that had been made and more than enough time to put them right, even if somebody got hurt in the process. They were meant to be together and that was that. She had telephoned him, asked him to meet her.

When Heath arrived at the glass house, having pulled up in one of his sleek sports cars, Kate knew she had to gauge his behaviour.

She moved to touch him but he pulled away and turned his face. Kate wondered if he had already fed that morning on Magenta or… if his tastes had become more refined and… diverse. Kate would have offered her blood to him there and then if she'd felt it would fix the situation between them and not harm the baby.

'Why did you want to meet me here Kate?' Heath asked in a weary tone. Heath noticed her messed up hair.

'Look at you. You've just got out of Hunt's bed. I never thought I'd see the day…'

'Heath…he's my husband…If it makes you feel any better, we have separate bedrooms.'

Heath's eyes combed her face, her body, her round belly hidden under the coat. Kate must have thought he was really stupid.

'Why do you need to talk to me when you've got him?'

'I needed to see you again.'

Kate touched his hand, and all the emotions were like before. She could not deny this passion and Kate wondered if Heath felt the same.

If he did, he didn't show it.

'I'm asking you not to…hurt Annabelle. She's been a good sister-in-law to me, a good friend to us both.'

'Oh, this is rich, sticking up for the other woman. What do you call this then? I'm sure if she knew we were meeting in secret she'd be thrilled,' Heath added sarcastically. Then he moved towards Kate. At first, it seemed like he was going to kiss her. Instead, he was distracted by the baby's heart beat and placed his hands over his ears.

'Having a baby…makes it impossible for me to leave now. It does not mean I love you less.'

Heath looked at her, 'And you brought me here to tell me that? As if I didn't already know? How could you Kate? You should have waited for me. I just wanted proof that Harrison had lied, and then nothing would have kept me away from you.'

'I…I know,' Kate said, weeping.

He was so angry he moved to shove her, but thought better of it, though she didn't resist his touch or step back. Instead he moved in close, swayed almost as if he was going to kiss her. Kate moved towards him at the same time.

'Now, we meet as equals, Mrs Hunt,' Heath said. 'Now you get to be the jealous one.'

That was the problem. Heath had all but ignored her since the night after the dinner party. The closeness of her, the nearness of her almost touch, was enough to set him off. His mouth watered, his teeth sharpened. Kate stumbled and moved to sit down.

'A fine mess we have made of our lives,' she whispered. She looked at Heath and realized her love for him was like the air that surrounded them, ever-changing but eternal, always. Her love for Heath transcended time and space and even themselves. She couldn't believe it had been so fragile, that she had been foolish enough to believe it would survive betrayal. Now Heath was married to another and gone forever.

Kate moved to stand up but sat down again, quickly.

'Are you alright?' Heath asked, suddenly spooked.

'Yes, I'm…I'm just upset, that is all. Please, Heath, don't go, please come. Put your arms around me one last time. I…I would give up Hunt if only you'd ask me to.'

And it was then, that Heath realized he'd finally gotten to her.

Now was his chance.

'You must be kidding,' Heath said. 'Do you really think I'd want you now? About to give birth to another man's child…'

'I wish it were your child,' Kate said.

'Well, it isn't,' Heath said, 'and I don't want you,' he lied.

Kate withdrew her hand.

'Please don't be like that.'

'It was you, Kate, with all of your stupid airs and graces, the minute you were poisoned by the Hunts, you came to believe yourself one of them, better than the rest of us, better than me with my eternal…curse. I longed for immortality once but only to share it with you.

'Share it with me now…'

'You'd have to be joking. You're not thinking straight in your…condition. You are so selfish you can't even put your child first.'

'Not now…later, after the baby is born.'

'Forget it. No matter how miserable you are, you belong to him now…'

'Never.'

'And I have made another choice…'

'I don't believe you.'

'Oh, I could never lie to you and tell you I love Annabelle. I don't even like her, though I've tried hard enough. But hating you, Kate…is almost as good as loving you and how I have wished for this moment, to see you as you really are…empty and alone but for your selfish choices.'

'It was not selfish, Heath. I couldn't find you.'

'You should have looked harder.'

'I did. But I was lied to…Harrison convinced me you no longer lived.'

'Well, he was wrong and he's always plotted against us. You were foolish to believe him in the first place.' Heath said, the morning's gorge from the blood bank fresh in his veins. He felt empowered. There was strength in such a lack of desire.

'It was your fault too,' Kate said, 'for leaving me, for doubting us.'

Heath remained silent. 'Harrison swore we were…blood relations…'

Kate looked shocked.

'But it is not true. Here,' Heath said, he unfolded a paper from his pocket. 'There is no connection. I also spoke to my…mother. It appears my biological father disappeared one night after drinking… the blood of others. He has not been sighted since. Heath pulled out his original birth certificate, written in Spanish. The date was clear.

'I'm a year older than I thought.'

'Oh Heath, what have we done?'

'If I did wrong, we both did wrong and now you are paying for it. Revenge is sweet.'

'Really? Greta used to say revenge is a dish best served cold.'

'Well, she always had a cliché at the ready.'

Both the lovers were spent in their argument.

'Please…Heath… Don't do anything you will regret.'

'Like what? Like leaving Annabelle? No, Annabelle will go of her own accord just like all the women in this family. I'm surprised it has taken her this long to work out that I only married her to hurt you and get my hands on The Grange.'

'I don't believe that. Annabelle loves you. She won't go anywhere unless you force her to.'

'She's left me once already. You really think you can control all our lives Kate? I despise you for marrying Hunt. I despise you for not believing in me enough to wait.'

'I… never stopped believing in you. I never stopped loving you. I wanted to do what was best for… Katarina.'

'And yet you married another.'

'I was told you'd gone forever!'

'Mmm… a convenient excuse. How could you ever be with another man?' Heath spat.

'Like I said, he's my husband.'

'I was your husband.'

'I know, but we were so young, I thought you'd changed your mind, abandoned me.'

'Stop, stop crying. This is not the Kate I wish to see.'

'It is the one you created. I have never stopped loving you…will never stop loving you Heath,' Kate said as she stood up, 'but I think this argument is going nowhere, Edmund.'

'Ah yes, the wonderful Hunt.'

'Don't be jealous. He has never taken your place.'

'That's exactly what he has done,' Heath laughed bitterly.

'When I first saw you, Heath, I loved you. It is almost as if we are the one soul and that doesn't change, no matter what. After the baby is born I want to be with you, forever.'

Kate stood in the open doorway of the glass house as the wind began to howl and swept up her hair. 'I can see there is no point in continuing to discuss this until then.'

'You sound just like him.'

'And you have become so much worse, swindling Harrison out of his own fortune, marrying my sister-in-law to hurt me.'

'Your brother was a vicious drunk and a liar. He deserved it. Besides, it wasn't a difficult thing to accomplish and Annabelle knew what she was getting herself into.'

'And making his child your own.'

'Hinton needed a home after he was abandoned by his own father.'

'A home? You sent him to boarding school.'

'From where he shall return once he is educated.'

'Educated enough to run wild like you and I did? I could never bear to let my child be that far away from me. And as for Annabelle, I've seen the scars on her wrist where you bit her.'

'She asked me to. She thinks blood sucking is more of a kink and less of a need.'

Kate shook her head. 'I can see we're getting nowhere with this conversation.'

'Everything that went wrong Kate, we did to each other. If you had just waited…if you had just believed in me like you promised you would…we said we'd never abandon one another.'

'You abandoned me.'

'I never stopped loving you.'

'…Until now.'

'You married another.'

'So did you.'

Heath shook his head, 'To make you pay…'

'I must go.'

'Yes,' Heath said, 'your husband must miss you.'

'I see you are determined to stay with Annabelle and ruin all our lives.'

Heath raised an eyebrow angrily, 'She is my wife.'

'Just don't hurt her,' Kate said as she walked away. She did not wish to tell him the full truth about their child tonight. It had been a mistake to call him. Heath was left in the dark once again; his vow of revenge seemed hollow and pointless.

**Chapter Thirty-two**

_**Birth **_

Nights later, Kate woke in the dark. Her stomach grumbled as she listened to the rain lick the roof. It was two in the morning. Hunt was sleeping soundly, as Kate crept silently to the wardrobe and removed her long, winter coat, her woollen hat, scarf and gloves. Instead of slippers she slid on her waterproof boots as she prepared for the winter night after many months of clear weather. Kate could hardly breathe she felt so cooped up. She couldn't explain her need to get out of the house. Her mind was overworked. She was not thinking clearly. Kate wished she had told Heath about Katarina. She woke up, dreaming of Heath and thought if she didn't get a breath of fresh air there was no way she'd have the strength to deliver the child that kicked inside her. She knew Heath had rejected her, yet she was compelled to find him.

Kate grabbed the keys to her car then realized she probably shouldn't drive. Besides, her car was at the garage getting serviced. She knew Edmund's Range Rover would make a loud scraping noise coming out of the gravel driveway. Instead, Kate walked quietly downstairs, found the keys to the house in the kitchen and walked very quietly out the door. It was a good distance from the Grange yet she knew a shortcut across the heath towards Hareton Hall that she hadn't used in months. She needed to see Heath again; she would wait for him - forever, if she had to. Tell him it was a mistake, that they belonged side by side, that she never wished to be parted from him again.

Kate was not prepared for the cold air that slapped her face as she stepped into the night. She wasn't far from the beginning of the trail that led between the two houses and she was sure she could find it. Rain started to spit down and the irrational part of Kate did not think about the stupidity of walking in the dark, alone, in her condition.

The manicured garden formed a pattern - a maze that she remembered from childhood -and led the exact way across the heath towards Hareton Hall. The lone house was filled with secrets and lies. Kate was determined to find Heath, to talk to him about Katarina, to make him understand that she had made a stupid mistake. She knew this track, knew the way by dark and from memory.

Kate peered through the midnight air. She caught her breath for the first time in hours and pulled her overcoat tight around her. Kate knew she shouldn't do it, but she thought, if she could just get a glimpse of her old home, the place she now missed, the only place she really belonged to, everything would be all right. She'd had a bad dream, about herself, about Heath and the baby. She needed to know that Heath was alright, needed to tell him about Katarina and wanted to see him again. It had been almost a week since they'd talked. Kate walked on.

The baby stirred inside her and the rain spat down suddenly but softly from the sky. Kate kept going as crystal tears, like the ones from her childhood, began to roll down her cheeks. She put one foot in front of the other, driven. The wind howled, the night closed in on her. She stumbled and hit her head on the rocks. Kate was as far from The Grange as she was close to The Hall. The pain was unbearable as she screamed into the dark.

Hunt woke, restless in the night.

'Kate,' he called.

He wondered which part of the house his beautiful, thankless wife had roamed off to. He saw that her cream dressing gown lay crumpled on a chair and something about the emptiness of the room, the silence in the hallway, bothered him. Hunt got out of bed, put on his slippers in his ordered way and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

'Kate,' he called again, 'Kate.'

In response, there was howling wind and an open window. He walked over to pull it down and latch it shut as the rain fell and the wind seemed to gather momentum. Then he noticed his keys were missing, which meant his wife had gone out driving (a ridiculous notion given that she could barely fit behind the wheel) or walking in the rain. Hunt was beside himself with worry and looked at the telephone. He knew where she had gone just as surely as if she had told him herself. Although the last thing he wanted was to talk to his sister, he picked up the receiver and dialled Hareton Hall.

Heath never expected a call in the middle of the night so he hadn't bothered to take the telephone off the hook. He couldn't believe someone would bother to ring so he tried to ignore the noise until, restless and unable to sleep himself, he picked up the telephone.

'Yes,' he said, sleepily and irritated. Annabelle was asleep at the other end of the hall but woke when she heard raised voices. Belle wandered into the room, wrapped in a blanket.

Heath had spoken only a few sentences before he handed the phone to Annabelle and left the room. He dragged on his boots, riding britches and a long coat. He'd had barely any time to dress because he knew, as surely as if Hunt had told him, where Kate was.

'Is it Kate? What's wrong?'

'She's gone missing. Your brother said she'd been acting strange. She's been cooped up. He's worried she was coming here and something's happened…here, you talk to him…'

'Shouldn't you ring the police?'

'It will be hours before they do anything, but yes, you do that. I'm going out, I think I know where she might have gone - it will be quicker.'

It was moments later that Annabelle realised Heath had picked all of this information up from one sentence. If Annabelle hadn't known better she would have said her husband was a mind reader. Annabelle looked both put out and worried as she walked over to the telephone.

Heath could read Hunt's mind but he'd also dreamt about her. He dreamt about Kate every night.

In his dream they were running along Hampstead Heath together. They were children, again. It was summer. They were bare footed and laughing as the sun shone. Heath only needed a hat and sunglasses. His dream became a nightmare as the sky darkened and the rain came down and Kate, older, turned to him with rain on her face and said, 'Remember…when I'm missing to look harder. I'll be there… I love you…I'll always love you. When you find me we'll be together…forever.'

Then he must have woken and fallen asleep again and in the next dream he was lying in Kate's old room with all her photographs on the dressing table where she'd left them, trying to sleep but constantly woken up by a tap at the window. Rain poured down and the rattle of her tiny fingers became harder and louder until the glass shattered and a voice, Kate's voice snarled, 'Let me in, let me in!' Her neck was red with blood, her skin white as snow. Venom-filled fangs were bared as she hissed…_I've been away for eighteen years_…'

Heath had woken and gone to touch the small hand of his beloved but just as her icy fingertips moved on the broken glass of the window pane, cut and bloody, she disappeared.

Rain poured down as Heath walked, ran, and then merged speedily through the park. The meadow was becoming an ocean of water and mud.

'Kate! Katherine!' Heath yelled, shining a torch into the mist. 'Katherine!' He merged faster then ran towards the glass house. A bundle of shawl, overcoat, boots and wet hair lay waiting for him, shivering in the shelter. There was a gash on her forehead. Heath walked to her and put his arms around her, holding her in an embrace that locked them together like one person.

'Kate, my darling Kate, what have you done? No one knew where you were. You shouldn't have gone out on a night like tonight…'

Kate looked pale and her face was wet from the rain and cold which was perhaps even worse. He knew he had to normalize her body temperature and although he was getting colder by the day, his coat would warm her. He bundled her up inside it.

'I'm taking you to the car, Kate. I parked it not far from here. I knew where you would be.'

Kate stumbled to her feet as Heath helped her. 'You wouldn't speak to me, Heath. You stopped talking to me…'

'I was desperate. I tried to forget you.'

'I know. We've both made mistakes…'

'I should never have left you. It's all my fault…'

'No, it's mine,' Kate said, half delirious. 'Oh Heath, I came back to you…' She put her arms around his neck. He leant in and whispered, 'I never stopped loving you'. Her voice was fading. Then she curled up in pain and cried. Heath scooped her up and lifted her from the ground. Normally, carrying a heavily pregnant woman would be difficult but Kate was surprisingly light.

'We have to get you home, get you warm,' Heath said.

'I'm…I'm sorry. Forgive me for what I did. I made a mistake, should never have married Hunt…but Katarina…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'I know, you're delirious.' He placed his hand on her brow, worried that her skin was burning. 'None of that matters now…'

'It is…as if we are the same person…I cannot exist without my love…I cannot exist without you…'

'Nor I you,' Heath whispered but it wasn't clear if Kate could hear him. He knew he had to get her to a doctor, quickly.

Heath bundled her into the car and rang emergency.

'Kate, you're not thinking straight. Try to stay awake. We're almost…there,' Heath looked over, and touched her forehead which was still warm but Kate's eyes were closed, she was slumped into the seat belt and her breath was laboured.

**Chapter Thirty-three**

_**Reborn **_

Heath had stayed with Kate in her room and refused to be moved until Hunt barged in and demanded to see his wife. Heath was asked to leave. He reluctantly agreed to wait in the hall after he was assured by the nurses that Kate would live through the night and the child would be safe.

At six in the morning he was told the child had been born and both mother and baby were sleeping. Relieved, Heath sighed. Hunt walked out of the room and said, 'She wanted to see you. They say she will be alright…she's sleeping now. I have a son.'

Afterwards, when he had assured himself Kate was resting peacefully, Heath went home, and fell asleep on the couch as the sun came up. He was wrapped in Kate's old blanket. Greta pulled the drawing room curtains shut, shielding him from the harsh light that made his pale skin sizzle.

Greta woke Heath from a slumber he never thought he'd fall into, almost as if he were drugged from lack of sleep. Greta had her coat wrapped around her. Her face was downcast yet welcoming. Heath's mind was a sea of nothingness. Morning rose like a cloud as the faintest trickle of sun shone through the imminent afternoon storm that would lead to yet another wild night.

Heath rubbed his eyes.

'How is she?'

'The baby, the boy, is well and healthy. They have named him Edmund after his father. Annabelle has gone to help her brother with the baby…'

'I wasn't asking about the child.' Heath said wearily.

'I know you weren't. Kate is weak. She asked to be transferred home, she asked for you.'

Heath pulled on his sweater and drove with Greta back to The Grange. He'd never had any desire to come here again, to the house with perfectly manicured gardens. Heath had always preferred the wild, unkempt beauty of Hareton Hall. The Grange held no secrets, until now.

Hunt was standing at the door.

'Oh,' he said, 'it's you. She's been asking for you, they say there is nothing I can do except let her rest. She lost a lot of blood but she insisted on coming home. There is a medical team with her…'

Heath knew she hadn't meant her home, here, at The Grange. He knew she'd meant her childhood home, Hareton Hall.

In Hunt's arms lay a sleeping baby with fair hair, like Edmund's. Heath brushed past Hunt and the baby and bounded up the stairs, two at a time.

Kate lay on the bed covered in a pale duvet. Her pain was dulled by the drip in her arm. Kate smiled when she saw Heath.

'Oh Heath, you've come back to me,' she whispered as he leant over her.

Kate pulled him into her, his warm, strong body giving her the strength to speak.

'I wanted to see you one last time…'

'Quiet Kate…you need to rest.'

'Plenty of time for that,' she whispered. 'I wanted to say how much…I loved you…love you still and that I have paid for my mistake…'

'Quiet Kate, it is I who has paid also…for loving you…'

'No…no…you don't understand,' Kate leant in close to him '…the baby is your child. I've named her Katarina. Please…please don't take her from Hunt. I know he will be a…good father, but I wanted you to know the truth before I…so you can always keep a close…eye on her… my last wish is for Hunt to raise her Heath…because…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'You're delusional. I know…all that is past.'

Heath tried to hide his anger.

Kate continued, 'I know how…ambitious you are… there would be no place for a child in the world you seek…and because I know it will be hard for you to raise her, reminding you of me. Hunt will love her… as if she is his own.'

Heath pushed his face into Kate's cheek.

'No Kate, you are talking madness. Don't leave me…don't leave us…'

'I can't…stay,' she swallowed. 'I'm so tired…no choice…' A tear dropped down Heath's face and onto her lips, paler than chalk. 'I want you to know, there was no one in this world I loved more than you and I will love you beyond this earth.'

'Don't go…' Heath whispered, 'Fight…'

'I dreamt, when I was under the anaesthetic, when they took the baby…I dreamt that I didn't go to Heaven, Heath…'

'Stop talking this way, Kate.'

'I dreamt that I stayed with you…forever…here at The Hall…'

'You're at The Grange, Kate.'

Kate continued, deliriously. 'I dreamt that I haunted you…and we went to the heath every day and lay in the sun and it didn't hurt us… we rode our horses…and had picnics and…raised Katarina…and it was as it always should have been. I never cared about…my career or travel or any of those things you enjoyed…I only ever wanted to be loved by you…to love…you. We are the same person you and I. We were never meant to be parted.'

'No,' Heath said, 'Kate, Kate,' he whispered '… I love you. I cannot live without you…'

'Then don't…' Kate whispered. 'Turn me…make me like you. I know you can do it…'

Heath held her to him gently, trying to will the life back into her aching, bruised body but her breath was fading. There was blood on the sheets when she coughed. When her breathing stopped the medical staff wrestled Kate from Heath and started administering every possible remedy to her lifeless body until there was nothing further to be done.

Kate, in her breathless whisper, asked everyone to leave; she only wanted Heath.

Later, Heath let out a piercing scream as he stormed past Greta, who held the quiet baby boy, in the drawing room. The infant was unaware of the tragedy and commotion that was the post-script to his birth.

**Chapter Thirty-four**

_**Transition **_

In the dark, Kate had whispered, 'Heath, you have come back to me.'

He lifted his head, contemplating her neck, only for a second.

Kate stirred as he leant in to whisper, 'Don't leave me. I cannot live without you, come back to me, come back to me. I never stopped loving you.'

Heath pulled her arm towards him and rested his head in the crook of her shoulder.

'Nor I you, I just wanted to make you suffer. I'm sorry Kate. Stay with me, don't leave. I cannot be without you…'

'You don't have to,' she whispered. 'If it's not too late, turn me into you, even as a ghost, let me haunt you, drive you mad.'

'Your transition may take decades. Changing you will change me. Neither of us will ever be the same.'

'I don't care.'

He had been warned by Greta that she had only minutes left. It seemed like seconds. The doctors had done all they could.

Heath barely paused before he lifted her towards him, plunging his teeth into her wrist, then her neck. The taste of her blood was honey and nectar to him but his tears were bitter. Without her, he felt nothing. With her by his side, they were invincible. Kate shuddered and closed her eyes.

She did not stir. Moments passed. He could hear the doctors discuss how many more seconds they should be left alone. He'd been inside Kate's room for less than three.

Heath turned and looked at the blackened sky. It reminded him of their shared childhoods. He resolved to take her, drag her out of the window if he had to, but physically, her recovery was quick. Her wounds began to heal, almost immediately, but the venom of a hybrid was not as strong in transition. Heath felt weaker. He wasn't sure this would save her.

Kate opened her eyes, yet her skin remained white, almost translucent. The fever, hot, began to cool. Her fingers responded to his touch as he lifted her from the bed to see the view from the window, the view in the night across Hampstead Heath and towards Hareton Hall, where she grew up.

'Heath,' she said, 'there is no man on earth I love more than I love you…' Then she shut her eyes. Kate's body lay mute and lifeless in his arms and Heath let out a howl in the dark that made the staff and Edmund come rushing into the room.

'And that is how the story went…' Greta said, 'A sad story, with no happy ending.'

Greta looked around her as she took the keys from the kitchen fruit bowl, freshly filled with blood oranges. The older woman's eyes filled with tears.

'Katarina, your mother would have been glad that you came here, to discover more about her, but now I think you should leave and think twice about coming back…You see, when we burst into the room that day… her body was lifeless. Then, they took her from him and she was buried far beneath the ground. There is no coming back from that. But people say… no body exists where she was laid to rest. Heath was raving on about immortality for days after but he was talking to a ghost.

I tried to placate him, but he was inconsolable. She'd whispered something in his ear before she passed; something to drive him mad. He bared his teeth and hissed at me when I found him lying beside the place she was buried and to my shame… I ran. I always knew that he was different. I thought it made him special, but that night… he was beyond help. I only imagine what he may have done to bring her back…at least, partly.'

The wind blew a gale outside. The night closed in on them.

'There are ghosts here,' Greta said. 'And more than that, besides… You don't want to make the same mistakes your parents did…'

**Chapter Thirty-five**

_**Family**_

Katarina and Hinton were seated in the Hidden Garden.

'I've read the file, Hinton. Of course, I can't pretend I'm not…surprised but it doesn't change you. Not really. It really doesn't matter to me.'

Hinton looked surprised and hugely relieved.

'I… I've drawn you something. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you. Do you…think of me?'

'Do I think of you? Always.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning I accept you for who you are,' Katarina said, as she ate the lunch she'd brought. She and Hinton, both dressed in long, dark coats (Katarina wore a red beret and gloves covering the expensive bracelet her father had given her for her birthday). They'd met here for lunch to celebrate Hinton's win – with the help of a perfectly worded essay attached to his entry.

'Finally I can spell, read and write almost perfectly, thanks to you Katarina. Although I have to admit, it still takes extra effort to translate some words.'

'I am so proud of you, Hinton. What words are still difficult?'

'I love you.'

Katarina smiled.

Hinton continued, 'they are simple words but hard for me to say.'

'I love you too,' Katarina replied.

Hinton could not contain his smile.

'I have been thinking of the future. The truth is, Katarina, I was never very interested in school. I preferred the horses and my Art and was never very big on study, nor was Heath. We were both too wrapped up in our own little worlds; Heath and his ghost, me and my cravings. Well, we shared the cravings. Perhaps Linus is the one you should congratulate. He just got accepted into Cambridge.'

'Wow. That's amazing,' Katarina said. 'I have to say I'm kind of surprised. He's so into his weekend dance parties. I didn't realize he ever studied. I'm still waiting to hear about Art College.'

'Well, I've been thinking, wondering. I'm planning to go travelling this summer. I was going to start in Italy, and then maybe Greece…The scholarship gives me enough money for two if I travel second class. I was hoping you might come with…'

'Yes,' Katarina said. She was barely eighteen but she knew perfect when she saw it (or perfect for her) and the love she felt for Hinton was real and present. She didn't care what her father thought of the Spencers and she had little memory of her mother apart from the ghostly young girl on the roof that day. The thought saddened Katarina so much she put the image out of her mind and convinced herself the moment could never be replicated.

She'd demanded an explanation from Heath the next time they spoke but he'd just dismissed her sighting and said, 'I warned you not to go up there…'

'Perhaps some things are….inexplicable,' was all Kate could think. The girl had looked so… real, so inexplicably like her. Katarina had barely seen the pyjama-clad intruder's face, but she remembered her clear blue eyes, flashing in the dark, a ghost, a vision, a pretty little vampire.

Katarina understood that somewhere, way back in time, near the place she and Hinton now walked, towards the glass house on Hampstead Heath, her mother had once met Hinton's father, a meeting that created this new moment for her now.

In her mother's antique locket, which she always wore (it had been passed down through generations of Spencer women), Kate had placed a photograph of her mother, and herself; together. The locket, she was sure, kept her safe. Katarina looked over at the handsome young man next to her. It was hard to believe, eight weeks ago, they had barely spoken. Now, she couldn't imagine being without him as he took her hand and they walked across the frosty mist of the Heath.

The truth was in the final pages of the journal. That was why Linus had given it to her to read; she knew that now. The words contained strange truths but necessary ones. Her father was not her biological father. This was something she had guessed from the early chapters of the journal. To discover her heritage was a shock, to discover she had a half-brother in Linus, was revelatory. Katarina also had a younger brother but they had been in different years at separate schools and had conflicting interests. Katarina hoped they would become closer when they were both adults.

She thought of the last time she had spoken to Heath. She was alone on the meadow, angry and tear-stained when she went to him. Heath had had the strangest feeling he was not alone riding his horse that day. He'd lately, in his thirties, begun to hear the thoughts of every human being he came into contact with, something he found disturbing. Once it had only happened when he listened closely. Recently his specialist had warned him about it, warned him that he'd be fully immortal if he lived past thirty, free to roam the heath forever if he wanted to, free to turn himself to ash in the sun if he did not. His image would not be betrayed in mirrors or print. After twenty-six, he'd ceased to exist in photographs entirely.

Heath heard her angry thoughts before he saw his daughter again that day and was not surprised to see her standing before him when he turned. Katarina wore the same long coat as her mother had worn, twenty years ago. Edmund must have kept it with Kate's things. He owed her an explanation. Before she could speak, he apologized.

'Here,' he said, handing her his waterproof jacket. 'The rain is coming down and it will protect you from the storm.'

They rode together to the glass house in silence. When she asked him a question, instead of replying in words, he vanished in mist. Katarina wasn't sure if she would ever see him again.

Months passed. There were so many questions and so few answers that Katarina had stopped asking for them. Her own father had died before she had ever challenged him on the matters of her parentage. Edmund had been a good father to her and she had loved him and mourned his loss and that was all that mattered. Katarina had inherited The Grange.

Heath had not once visited them but Linus came around often for dinner. The three young people had wild parties in the drawing room that were the talk of the borough and many friends from Italy and Europe came to visit. It was a world of lightness and socializing that none of them - Linus, Hinton or Katarina - ever experienced during their solitary childhoods. Heath had become more and more reclusive and barely spoke to his own son, let alone Hinton, when they moved out of Hareton Hall. By then, Heath had stopped going to work, repairing the now crumbling mansion, and never appeared at his own pub for dinner like he used to.

**Chapter Thirty-six**

_**Birthday Party **_

Almost twenty years had passed since the night she was born, and Heath remembered it was Katarina's birthday. He'd had the gift wrapped. A gold necklace with diamonds tastefully worked into swans on the pendant. A fine piece of jewellery, new, not from the family crypt, Heath mused. He also had another gift, the deeds to Hareton Hall, made out to Linus, Katarina and Hinton. He placed inside the envelope the gift of a round the world plane ticket, and access to the shares he had set aside for her since she was born. It was the least he could do, with all his money. He knew it would never be enough to make up for the neglect she'd suffered from him. The gift was merely a gesture and he expected nothing in return. Her desire to be friendly surprised him, given that there were so many unanswered questions about their family.

Katarina was surprised that Heath remembered her birthday since he had ignored every other one and had refused an invitation to the party that evening. Instead, he had driven over to The Grange to see her. He explained he didn't "do" parties anymore, especially ones with a Great Gatsby theme. Instead, he asked her to go walking with him across Hampstead Heath. Katarina smiled and said, 'I'll get my coat.'

They walked in tandem across the meadow in the mild winter light.

"I need to get some more decorations for tonight in Hampstead High Street,' Katarina said, making small talk. 'Linus will be there, you know. And Hinton would love to see you again. You never replied to my invitation, so I just assumed you…forgot.'

'Do you honestly think I could forget the day you were born?'

'No,' Katarina said, 'I suppose not.'

'What was she like, my mother? People say you were both… inseparable. They talk of a ghostly teenaged girl…like the girl I saw in the rafters that day. Tell me what she was like…'

'Well, at first I thought she was nothing like you, but I have changed my mind. You share the same curiosity about things you should not… and there is a determination in your manner that is similar.'

Heath looked down at his feet.

Katarina could hardly believe that this stranger was actually her father. After discovering her mother's old journals she had always suspected there was a story she was never allowed to know. She did not understood her need to reach out to this strange, alone man, who hadn't really shown her any love. Only her mother's journals filled in the blanks, shocking though they were to her. Deep down, there had always been something missing from her family history, something that she'd always suspected. Now she knew there was a vampire in the bloodline. She wanted to go far away from here, at least for a while.

'Your eyes are the same,' Heath said, reaching out to Katarina. He touched her hair when she stood in front of him, overlooking the meadow. Katarina could not feel or sense the touch. The man's fingers were like the air.

'And you look, almost identical - so similar that it was hard for me, at first.'

Then she understood, even slightly, that her mother had been right to let Hunt raise her. Her real father knew nothing about selflessness and love, or did he? He seemed to feel he owed her an explanation, however, and she was interested to hear it.

Heath admitted he'd always known she was his.

'I used to check on you from time to time. It was the reason I never left The Hall. Your mother thought Hunt should raise you and I did not object. I thought raising you in a house full of memories of your mother would not be in your best interests. Your mother and I were meant to be together, always…and I have never truly loved another…'

'I know,' Kate said.

'Then you know, everything?' he asked.

'I read her journals. I know what she wrote in them. It made me understand her…and you, more. But I don't love you. I don't think I even like you. I have forgiven you. That is all.'

'I understand,' Heath said. 'I owed you an explanation…but you found it yourself. I thought I was not fit to be your father…with the boys, I barely had a choice. It was…perhaps wrong of me not to claim you. It was Kate's wish that you be raised at The Grange. I think she thought it was less…haunted than Hareton Hall.'

Heath touched his daughter's cheek and walked on. He wandered further ahead of Katarina, ending the brief moment of rare and unexpected closeness between them.

He added as an afterthought, 'Your mother would be very proud to see you as you are.'

Heath moved quickly and deliberately. Katarina was left standing alone in silence once again.

**Chapter Thirty-seven**

_**Eternal**_

The Grange was decorated like something out of the 1920s. Light filled the room. It was surprising to Katarina that she felt so happy. Hinton had not expected her acceptance. Together they worked.

Though she could only recall the length of her mother's hair, her large, pretty eyes and the warmth of her touch – barely – Kate's writing brought her back to Katarina. She could not, of course, detail her transformation into the girl in the attic that day and Katarina resolved that the more fantastical elements of her visit to The Hall might have been a terrible dream or vision.

Katarina had each of the journals stored in a locked drawer of her desk. They represented a year of Kate's life on this earth, and Katarina had read all of them. The words began in large, childish letters, written in an unsophisticated way. Kate had skipped forward to the good parts, and that was how she knew that Heath was her father, although she never thought of him as that. Not yet. Not ever. They were how she had learnt of the existence of hybrids and humans and vampires and bloodsucking and night terrors. It was where she began to believe in the secrets of the impossible.

The day in the mist, the last time Katarina had seen him, had been the day he started to disappear. Heath had begun to move faster, some say at the speed of light. His powers were so diverse now. He thought they might have brought him happiness but eternity without the one he loved was…worthless. He waited for her.

It was not meant to be that way. He'd been waiting for a long time. But a vampire turned by a hybrid is the longest hibernation of all. Twenty years, he'd been told. And even then, she'd need another eight to reach maturity (girl hybrids aged until twenty-eight when they sometimes attained immortality). It was a risk. There was a chance.

For twenty years the teenage girl had hidden and grown, showing herself only in the early dawn of first light. She could not speak to him or any other person, let alone touch them. Recently, she began to attain human form, as she had been the day she saw Katarina.

For the past month, Kate had come to him in the night, older, not translucent anymore, still talkative, like a child. Her skin had transformed from see through to pale. She no longer took the form of a ghost.

Heath was preparing their first moments together. Their first trip to Italy, where he intended to take her, was to coincide with Kate's twenty-first birthday as a hybrid. He'd been told it was different for women. She'd take longer to emerge.

Tomorrow would be the day. Tomorrow eternity began.

Kate had writhed in pain for months in her attic space, hidden in corners, curled up in blankets. Heath had wandered the heath in the evening to spare himself the pain of her suffering. No one else could hear or see her and he couldn't help her, could not even touch her. He was sure she must regret her choice but when her memory returned, from the wild dark spirit she had become, she reminded him constantly, how much she loved him. It was the pain of seeing Katarina for the first time that rendered her silent. Unable to speak to her grown child, or touch her, she'd disappeared for a long time into the dark. No one could ever find her when they went looking, not even Heath. Kate languished in a ghostly form, pined to hold her daughter, longed to take human shape. It was no use.

Tomorrow, however, they would be free to roam together. Heath would give up his human form for now and they would no longer be seen by the rest of the world, at least until her transition was complete. One day hybrids and vampires would be accepted by the human race but that day had not yet arrived and it would not be safe for them to reveal themselves. Those were the rules. Being hybrid, Heath could only turn one human and that human, being part vampire, had had to wait two decades for restoration. Kate's form would be human, her body hybrid, with all the term implied. Neither of them would ever look older than their mid-twenties. Heath would be there to help her final transition, to encourage her, to love her.

He had been travelling, on a tour of his European offices as she had languished in hibernation in The Hall. Over the years she looked on in agony as the children grew. They were her greatest joy. On occasion she visited Katarina at night, resting her face on the child's cheek, mindful she could never actually touch her. Eventually, she hoped they would discover an elixir; that instead of vanishing together, (the price Heath would pay for her complete transformation), they would be revealed simultaneously.

Heath had told no one he was winding up the companies in America and selling most of his property. It took many weeks. When he returned to London he only left the house to go riding on his favourite horse and sometimes he went for long walks across Hampstead, through the park, and back again. Kate was transforming. Her image appeared to him more than briefly, for moments, and in daylight, not just dreams. He'd become more and more silent to the point where even Greta, who had long ago realized that Heath was not like other men, had taken to worrying constantly about him.

He would miss Greta and the children, who were now grown but they would not miss him. He knew it.

He'd stopped pestering the boys about study or work, stopped worrying about the future of his companies (they would cease to exist soon enough and the cash signed over to Katarina, Linus and Hinton). Heath had long ago stopped asking about any of his old rivals and acquaintances, stopped being interested in the world around him.

That night, before the morning of change, when Hinton, Linus and Katarina came to see him, he was congratulatory but distant. Linus seemed more terse than usual and Katarina and Hinton were blissful in each other's company. The general malaise which Heath had embraced now seemed to affect all areas of his life. He had long since ceased trying to control the younger generation around him. He even congratulated Linus on his new start at University, he told him he was 'extremely proud of him, whatever he chose to do but that "enjoying life" was just as important as a formal education.'

It was all very out of character, according to Greta, who left early after the party that night. Heath had relented and made a brief appearance after Katarina left another invitation at The Hall. Hinton insisted on kissing her goodbye on the cheek and hugged her. His body was cool, his breath light. He assured her he was feeling perfectly alright.

The next morning, Greta noticed Heath's bed had not been slept in and he'd lost weight, so much weight that suits hung off him, but he'd stopped wearing them, anyway. Greta had long since stopped suggesting he take anti-depressants. Heath just laughed and told her he didn't need her help or anyone else's.

Something strange happened in the silence and emptiness of Hareton Hall when he returned. These days, it wasn't just when he slept. The attic was inhabited by a young girl, there was no question. Greta invaded the attic one day and found packets of lollies, uneaten crisps, shoes, socks, dresses, ancient dolls and ribbons. Then there were the strange, empty vials of elixir which looked like…blood.

The first time Kate came to him in human form, he'd been in the drawing room attending to the paperwork on his latest company acquisition. He looked up to see some birds flying beyond where Hareton Hall was situated. They looked so free, so wild.

It was three in the afternoon and a clear day. No one was in the house, on the floor where the study was, yet all his pens and papers had been sorted into neat piles when he walked back to his desk.

It had been eighteen human years since he'd seen her. He sat on his favourite chair and felt a reach on his shoulder, like a whisper, the touch of her hands was so light, so transient.

'Kate.'

'Heath.'

'I knew you'd come back to me,' he said.

He held her hand for a moment and looked at her perfect face until she was gone.

From that moment, he searched for her with some hope of finding her transitioned and whole. He was reminded of the night he begged her as she lay lifeless on her bed, 'Come back to me, Kate. Haunt me, drive me mad…'

'Only if you turn me, change me…make me yours forever.' Somehow the timing was wrong. Somehow they'd met in the middle and once again, they'd been kept apart, made to wait. Both of them like ghosts, only one of them real.

That day, she must have heard him.

He tried to put the image of her from his mind, at first, because it interfered with work, with his day. For many years, she only visited at night in what he tried to believe were his dreams.

_When Hinton came to stay, permanently, after Harrison had drunk himself stupid and wished to stay in the cottage, I insisted Hinton should stay in the main house and Heath should hire more help (he did, without question or interest)._ _Heath always seemed distracted and secretive, for a reason,_ Greta wrote in the journals I read that night, after my final visit to Hareton Hall. _I had as soft a spot for Hareton as I had for Heath, _she wrote._ Although I know I helped to raise a wolfish man, you must understand how difficult life had been for him and how his ambition had been fuelled by his loss and his early life and his…condition. Both Heath and Kate, both young and headstrong, helped to create the adult paths their lives had taken, but they deserved better. They deserved to be together, it is just a shame they managed to hurt so many people in the process. Although Annabelle remarried and found happiness at last - becoming the manager of her own gallery…' _Greta added as an afterthought.

Heath wandered up the stairs that final night, with a copy of Kate's favourite novel, _Jane Eyre, _in his hands. He placed it by the bed next to her photograph. He'd removed the photograph when Annabelle had lived with him here, but it hadn't helped him forget Kate. He'd read _Jane Eyre_ when he was younger, at Kate's insistence, unable to see the parallels to their own isolated existence and the seeking of great love.

**Chapter Thirty-eight**

_**Happiness**_

Katarina had been meeting Hinton for months by the time Heath had made plans to sign the freehold title of his estate over to them. It was a regular pattern.They met at a studio space, rented out by the Art College, in Soho.

Katarina loved getting out of North London. She was used to being in central London but she particularly loved the winding cobbled streets of Soho and the West End lights. She'd dressed up for the occasion, knowing that she and Hinton had a special dinner planned to celebrate the one year anniversary of their first meeting.

Instead of going to Hampstead, they decided on a tiny restaurant here, beside the studio space. Hinton had something he wanted to show her that did not include a pen and paper.

In return, Katarina had a gift she had made to give him.

They kissed as lovers do, warm and close. It was as if they had always been like this. Although it had taken them many months to feel comfortable in each other's company, they now trusted each other completely. Hinton took Katarina's hand as they went to the studio together, tripping through crowds and Christmas lights of a frosty London winter.

'Quick, Katarina, I want to show you something.'

'Yes Hinton, I have something important to tell you also, something I've been saving for today.'

Hinton looked at her in the street, as they stood still together as the crowds bustled around them. Her face shone with beauty, hope and expectation.

Hinton had dreaded this moment - the moment he knew in his heart would eventually arrive. Everyone he had been close to, even momentarily, had abandoned him. First his own parents, whom he'd never met, then his adopted parents; even his adopted uncle had shown little interest in him beyond teaching him to fight back and be sullen and not trust another living soul. But he trusted this girl and she sensed his desperation when she said she had something important to tell him. Hinton's face was downcast, he knew it was irrational. They'd never had an argument since the day they'd met but still the thought remained that she might be breaking up with him. After all, he needed plasma every nine hours to exist.

'I…I knew you would…tire of me…you are such an amazing person but…'

'Oh no, Hinton, you misunderstand…Hinton …I …love you. I think I've loved you since we both sounded out the word "incandescent" …you are…the most original, amazing…'

He put his finger on her mouth, happy that the night had not been ruined, and the surprise was still before them.

'Before you say anything else, you need to see this…'

They had reached the studio, a small building, one floor up on a tiny side street in Soho.

Hinton opened the door slowly.

He wrapped his tie across her eyes.

'Wait,' he said.

'Hinton, what are you up to?'

'I'm showing you something I've been working on over the autumn. It's something special…it's my future.'

Kate stood still in the centre of the room, an empty room with tall ceilings apart from the painting on the easel in the middle.

'Open your eyes.'

Katarina stood in her coat, flicks of snow upon her shoulders and glanced at the tall, handsome boy with the kind eyes, then glanced back at the painting of her.

'What do you think Katarina?'

'It's…amazing. I'm speechless…'

'It won first prize. You won me first prize.'

The picture that stared back at them was of a young woman's face, an identical artist's interpretation of the beautiful girl in the room. The haunted look in her eyes was replaced with something verging on both satisfaction and calm. If there was a word to describe the expression on Katarina's face in the portrait, it would be love.

'You are the reason I won this scholarship. I'm going abroad for the summer…'

Kate's face dropped…

'Well, that's wonderful… I had something for you but now…'

Kate realized Hinton had meant more to her than she to him, for he was the one contemplating leaving.

Hinton took her hands in the shadow of the exquisite painting. Light beamed in from Soho streetlamps. Wind whipped up leaves on the cobbled stone. He could hear her heart and tried to stop himself from hearing her thoughts. He'd consulted a specialist who'd said by twenty-one, his needs would be fully formed. But for tonight, he was okay. Together, they were warm and safe.

'It's just that… I made something for you, but I don't know if I should give it to you now. I mean, now that you are going…'

Katarina sat on the forgotten lounge which had been covered in an old painter's canvas sheet. There were splotches of blue and pink oil paint around the frayed edges of the material.

Hinton moved towards her slowly, blood tightening in his veins. He hesitated.

'That's just it, Katarina. I don't want to go alone. I know you shouldn't accept me, as I am and I know it's early to ask you this - we are young…I am…different, to say the least but…'

Katarina looked more intently at him, not wanting to anticipate his meaning without having it spelt out before her. He wanted her to go with him… or did he?

It was easier for him. All his life he had felt unloved until now. Hinton did not want any misunderstandings or any lack of clarity to mess things up the way love had messed up the people around him - his adopted Uncle, for example.

'I… I love you. And I was wondering if you could overlook…'

Hinton got down on one knee on the bare floors, his mouth watering with nerves, his blood tight in his veins…

'I…am wondering…would you do me the honour…'

Katarina was surprised. She had thought he'd meant her to travel with him but…this.

'Yes,' Katarina said…

'I haven't asked…' he began.

'Ask the question,' Katarina smiled.

'Katarina Spencer…I know we are young, I know we should be fearful of my…condition, but I've never been surer of anyone. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'

'Yes,' Katarina said.

In the shadow formed by street lamps, the young lovers kissed.

**Chapter Thirty-nine**

_**Wuthering Nights **_

It was an icy winter evening in Hampstead as he spread out all of the documents that ridiculous lawyer had required of him for the transferral of property and funds. He was sure he hadn't neglected anything. He left no notes but he knew Greta would do as he wished. She had not been forgotten either. There was an envelope for her which would be sure to allow her to live in luxury for the rest of her life. Apart from Kate, she had been the most loyal person he'd known.

Heath dressed in his warmest black turtle neck jumper and found his boots and the coat he liked best and wore most often. He heard a tap at the window, rain mixed with the branches of the tree outside, hail trickling onto the roof, reminding him of her beautiful face and pale fingers reaching for him.

It was not unusual any more. The waiting, the anticipation, the brief visits that had prolonged his years. He had taken to staying out late then driving home at two in the morning. But tonight was different, tonight she hadn't come to him and he knew it was because it was his turn to find her. Kate was waiting for him in the dark, on the heath, in human form.

She called to him when no one could hear, no one but him.

'I've missed you…' She said, 'I told you I'd come back to you.'

'Kate,' he whispered, 'it's been forever…' he said under his breath, glad she was so restless, like him, a twin soul.

**Epilogue**

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London. **_

In the morning, I was called to investigate the business transactions of a certain Heath Spencer and the links amongst his family which allowed him to divide his assets between three heirs. I was alarmed by news of his passing, but not surprised. The Spencers hadn't made it public and there was no note so it had taken some years for the law to rule that he'd died "of exposure" in the night. It was all rather strange, since his body was never found.

Rather than try to navigate the heath on a frosty winter morning, I stopped and parked near the local pub again and decided to enjoy the ten minute walk along the winding, private road that led to the imposing exterior of Hareton Hall. I was due to visit the new owner, Hinton Spencer, a young man who was married to Katarina Hunt. They had a three year old child and were in a hurry to get the documents signed because they were due to leave for America to spend a summer painting abroad. They were taking an extended vacation and assured me they did not care to live at The Hall but did not wish to sell the place, either. It was a simple matter of the transfer of documents that I'd waited some years to finalize. Hareton Hall would then be returned to its rightful owners.

It was a grinding walk, starting flat and easy and heading ever so slightly up hill, and then, when the sleet and wet started, down again. I was glad I could see the imposing house in the distance.

When I finally arrived there was not a hint of movement, save wind across ground, whipping the heather into a lavender mix in the distance. Up close, there was no sign of the housekeeper either whom I'd been led to believe still lived at Hareton Hall. There was no sign of anything. The fact that the owner had gone "missing" had led to many years of legal uncertainty.

An elderly man, wearing gloves, who looked like he worked with animals, wandered out from the stables, as if from nowhere. He must have been close to ninety years old.

'Is anyone at home?' I asked.

'Not likely,' he replied. 'I've just come from exercising the horses…'

'Is the owner here?'

'You could say that, many do…' he replied enigmatically. He looked at me strangely as he walked into air.

I wandered around to the side of the house, where the cobwebs grew and the foliage had been left wild, giving the lower floor of Hareton Hall the appearance of being covered in unruly brownish lace. There were windows and doors shut tight and locked. The garages were closed and the stables remained empty apart from one where a door had been left swinging open. The grounds themselves, once manicured, had grown wild and lush with secrets.

The owner, I thought, the young man I sought, a Mr Hinton Spencer, must have risen early to go riding across the heath with his wife.

Then I remembered the tales of ghouls and ghosts, the objects seen moving in windows, the people long gone that neighbours reported having seen only days ago. Someone in particular, a young woman with long dark hair who wandered the corridors and played loud music, turning on all the lights during wild, evening parties and lighting hundreds of fire -hazardous candles. I'd assumed the reports were simply jealous neighbours complaining about the noise created by the beautiful young wife, the new Mrs Spencer who'd also had the keys and the run of Hareton Hall. Since the noise always stopped at midnight, there was little anyone could do.

I was about to give up, admit defeat and return the copies of the papers declaring transfer of original ownership to the rightful heirs of Hareton Hall, when I saw the curtains in the upstairs window move. A young girl with long dark hair glanced down at me and smiled. I knocked loudly and waited for a long time, but still, no one answered.

'Katarina Spencer,' I announced, calling out distinctly, although I knew Katarina would be older now and the woman at the window was barely out of her teens. The downstairs curtains waved and I thought perhaps the housekeeper might be there. I looked up again. The girl who stood at the window was beautiful, otherworldly. The image disappeared before my eyes in a mirage of dark curls, cream lace and ruby cheeks.

I was convinced the cold, like the heat, could make you see a mirage in the mist yet I waited on the doorstep for a long time. No one answered. I was tempted to look back as I walked towards my car. For the first time in my life I didn't need proof. I was sure the rumours I'd heard were true, though my notes had many pages missing. As I drove towards The Grange, I was certain the lovers who had once inhabited Hareton Hall, lived there still. The girl had not aged a day since she was last seen alive, more than twenty years ago.

Summer Day is the author of Pride & Princesses, a novel for young adults inspired by Pride and Prejudice and Anne Eyre, a YA novel inspired by Jane Eyre. Follow Summer Day on:

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Email: summerdaylight99

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	8. The Storm Chapter 7

Wuthering Nights by Summer Day

Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer: 

Wuthering Nights

Copyright © 2012 Summer Day

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*Note to Readers: UK Spelling / Punctuation used in Wuthering Nights

**WUTHERING NIGHTS **

**Prologue**

**From the journal of Greta Gardner, February 1978**

_The boy arrived at night, wrapped in a blanket. He was carried by his adopted father who placed him on the kitchen floor next to me. His big blue eyes stared out from under his wild black hair. He shrank from the fire, he shrank from my touch, yet his skin was cold as ice… _

_He arrived with a list of instructions tucked into the pocket of his jacket. _

_Eats - mostly chicken and oranges (likes: roast chicken, blood oranges and plums). _

_Drinks - mostly water and citrus juice._

_First warning - do not let him go in the sun often as he burns easily. _

_Second warning - make sure he wears his necklace amulet (a parting gift from his biological mother). He screams if you take it. _

_Final Warning - do not let him go out at night alone. _

_As a small boy (just walking) he had a tendency to wander off, and many times staff at the orphanage were unable to find the little fellow for hours. Once, he was found hanging upside down from the roof of the school gymnasium, like a bat. The only giveaway was the drip drip drip of juice as he stuffed his baby face with blood oranges._

_His file was then stamped: Special Needs. _

_I shook my head as I read this. I was sure Mr Spencer had finally lost his mind dragging the mite all the way back from Spain. It was many years before I learnt the full extent of his malady._

**Chapter One**

_**Hareton Hall**_

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London, Present Day**_

When I saw the house in the fragile light, I could barely make out the lines of gothic architecture in the morning mist. I'd heard whispers about the strangeness of the place. I was told that I risked my life going there; that the owner brandished a gun and roamed the heath looking for his lost love. Music and chatter, laughter and screams could be heard miles away in the night. Neighbours said the lovers who'd inhabited Hareton Hall lived there still, as young and beautiful as they ever were; haunted.

The family, the Spencers, originated in Yorkshire and could trace their lineage back a thousand years. Their secrets wove through history and time and family portraits. I held in my hand a photograph of Mr Spencer, an aristocrat with an interest in archaeology, returning from a trip to Spain with a small child. Among other documents, there was a photograph of the entire family, arriving to greet Mr Spencer and his newly adopted son at the airport. The family were generationally wealthy. Mr Spencer had an interest in Botany. According to my documents, he kept to himself and his study. Within the file, I also retained the marriage notice of the daughter, Kate. This was long before the family feud that had ignited decades of dispute.

In the picture was a beautiful mother with ink black curls. The older teenage boy, Harrison, had a scowl on his face and headphones on his ears. He appeared tuned out from the proceedings. The girl, her dark curls tied with an unruly red ribbon, revealed an adorable cherub face. Aged six, she peeked out from behind her mother and stole the picture. It was this child's face I remembered long after I'd set the image aside.

As I walked along the winding road that led from Hampstead Heath towards Hareton Hall, I passed another magnificent home, The Grange. This was a Georgian mansion hidden behind a maze of orange trees as opposed to The Hall where photographs showed gargoyles at its entrance. The signatures I was required to collect involved the ownership of both properties.

I'd been advised not to try to park along the icy road that connected the houses on opposite sides of the heath. Instead, I'd driven to a spot along the frosty lane which meant I had to walk the rest of the way in the rain. Late afternoon seemed to be losing light but then all the days were dark now as London turned rapidly into winter. It was not a good time to walk about the borough. A man had recently gone missing and was yet to be found. As I was surrounded by street crime in my first position as junior solicitor at a criminal law firm, I was not perturbed.

I pushed the family photograph, covered in plastic, deep inside my briefcase along with some handwritten journals kept by Kate Spencer, the only daughter of the house, and one by the housekeeper, Greta Gardner. Greta's journal contained a collection of various yearly expenses with some alarming family details written in the margins. Both contained valuable information entrusted to me. I noticed The Grange to my right, a well-kept home, built not far from a local landmark, Kenwood House. The Grange held some of the allure, yet I suspected hosted none of the secrets, of Hareton Hall.

The history of the Spencer family haunted me as I walked. I remembered words and snippets from the bizarre journals. For example, Heath was described as_, "a pale little boy with sharp milk teeth!" _This journal scribble was mixed with the photographs I resolved to return to their rightful owner. As I rounded the corner, I was almost as keen to talk to Greta Gardner, the housekeeper and keeper of secrets, as I was to speak with the owner of The Hall.

The heath was silent and stark in bare winter.

I'd visited during summer as a child but never with such purpose in my step. To my right and to my great relief, I saw the entrance to a pub. I'd been there with my family once, just after I'd graduated from university. I decided to warm myself and ask for directions.

The Horse and Ale used to serve delicious roast dinners and hot toddies. I hoped it hadn't changed too much in the intervening years.

I settled in front of the fire, grateful for the familiarity as I drank my hot, strong mulled wine. When the waiter asked me if I needed anything extra, I asked him for directions to Hareton Hall.

'Who wants to know?' The low, gruff voice of a man, perhaps in his thirties, spoke to me from behind one of the many sofas. He had a plate of what appeared to be lamb, dipped in gravy and a large pint of dark ale in his hand. His dog lay lovingly, sleeping at his feet, apparently unbothered by the smell of roasted meat.

'Ah, I do.'

'Really? And who might you be?'

To say he was unfriendly would be an understatement.

'I'm well, who are you?'

He almost laughed.

'I asked you first.'

'I'm Tom Bennett, the junior partner from _Bennett & Sons_. I have an appointment at Hareton Hall.'

'To see the owner?'

'Yes, and who might you be?'

'I am the owner.'

He didn't smile. He rose slowly. For a youngish man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. He looked like a hard partying insomniac. I offered him my hand and he took it obligingly. If I was trained to comment on such things, which I suppose I am, I'd say he was tall and fairly handsome. The air of sleeplessness hung over him like a cloud. He was polite yet unfriendly; he did not smile. He was unshaven; his dark shirt was unironed but expensive. He stared at me coldly.

The publican scurried off to some far flung corner of the establishment. One of the lights overhead flickered as the man moved closer to me. He picked up an implement from the fireside and stoked the flame.

I took another sip of my drink and waited for him to speak.

'Well then, it's me you've come to see. Place is empty, except for my housekeeper Greta, a few horses in the stables and the dogs.

'Perhaps I could come to Hareton Hall?'

'What for?'

'It would help if I sighted the property and it may be easier to talk there.'

'I am busy this evening. If you had come earlier as arranged…'

'I was detained. It was further away from Hampstead than I expected.'

'Even so, I don't have visitors at night. I shall arrange for you to come tomorrow morning. Twenty minutes.'

'It may take more than twenty minutes.'

The rain poured down overhead and with it the darkness of early winter. For once, I was glad as a young man, not to have to hurry back to a wife and family.

The man shrugged.

'Well, it's getting late. You can stay here tonight - for free; I own the pub. I'll send my driver to get you at nine in the morning. We can finalize the matter then.'

He smiled for the first time at the blonde, middle-aged woman who entered the room and moved softly behind the bar.

'This is Greta; she used to be the housekeeper at Hareton Hall; raised me as a child; she'll fill you in on the story. Look after him Greta and see he gets a comfortable bed.'

Greta looked at me warily.

He whistled to his dog, a large amiable Labrador who obviously worshipped his master.

The dog sat up and barked. I think his owner was used to people behaving in a similar manner.

It turned out Greta had quite a tale to tell as she chatted to me by the fireside that evening. I asked her to identify her household journal and she was pleased to do so. I marked it as "Exhibit A" in my head; it was to be a wealth of information. I had the journal open on my knee as we talked. The Spencer crest hovered above us as Greta spoke in detail about the family she'd once served. Before I retired to bed, I could not resist writing down what she said as I did not want to forget what she told me. As I offered to pay for my drinks, I was more intrigued than ever about the legends of Hareton Hall and the fate of the Spencer children who lived there, more than thirty years ago…

**Chapter Two**

_**Wild Child **_

I read Greta's words as I rested on the hotel bed. They were written in a firm, definite hand:

_February 1978 (second entry) - we were not sure what country the child originated from. When Mr Spencer brought him back from his trip, I thought he'd finally gone mad, like his ancestors. I said, 'You were searching for fossils, not people!' But he just shrugged and said, 'Well, I saw him on the street and no one claimed him so I filled in the paperwork, paid a requisite sum and now here he is. All this had happened many months before the actual collection. Perhaps the child was originally from Europe or maybe as close as Liverpool? The foundling had papers to say he was ours, signed by a solicitor, no less. He didn't speak a word that first night. His bell bottom jeans and shoes were filthy and caked with mud from the walk along the driveway. Dirt splattered on my kitchen floor. I thought it was very inconsiderate of Mr Spencer not to have put clean clothes on him but grown men rarely think of small comforts. The dark haired, six-year-old person stared at me blankly and flinched when I tried to go anywhere near him. He kicked and scratched me so hard when I went to take his jacket (where I read the "instructions") that I honestly wondered how I'd cope looking after a child in such a…state. Harrison, almost eight years the child's senior, shoved the boy when he thought no one was looking and whispered to him before leaving the house, 'Who do you think you are? Invading my home like this… I'll make you pay, charity case!'_

_Kate, who had always been naughty (a fact belied by her pretty and innocent face), and never close to her much older brother or absent socialite mother, became attached to the new boy who we named Heath and resolved to raise as part of our family… _

It was all rather formal yet strangely personal.

I'd learnt, as a child, Heath Spencer had no language and apparently very little memory of his origins. He'd certainly made up for it judging by the detailed and sophisticated legal correspondence he'd addressed to me personally and which I had spread out on the desk in my room. Heath's letters addressed the various ownership and personal scandals involving both himself and his adopted relatives in almost forensic detail. Events happened a long time ago, but the origins and complex story of the properties in question, both Hareton Hall and The Grange, involved both the Spencer and Hunt families whose paperwork I now studied. Their generational feuds had been the talk of the firm, behind closed doors, of course.

According to family tradition, the Spencer children were sent away to school the year they turned twelve. However, the friendship between the two youngest children began much earlier, with a whisper. It was as if Kate was the first to know, although his adopted father must have suspected. There was something different about Heath.

The first night the child arrived, Kate wandered up to him when he was left alone in the kitchen and the little boy hissed at her, baring his tiny, white incisor fangs. Kate scowled then smiled and moved towards the small boy, rather than rejecting him. As if he were some exotic pet, she tried to pat his head. The boy, suddenly ashamed of his behaviour, covered his mouth. Heath had only recently learned how to recede his little fangs but sometimes they came out when he was frightened or stressed. Kate took his hand and led him upstairs.

When they were in the play room, she asked him to explain more. It was their secret, she told him. Kate loved to have secrets. The little boy didn't know what to tell her.

'I was born this way,' he whispered.

His biological father had kept notes but Mr Spencer wanted proof. After many secretive tests with a Vampire specialist on Harley Street it was explained to Mr Spencer that the child had a rare condition. There was a line of Spanish vampires from thousands of years ago that he possibly descended from through his mother. His blood type was unknown. What they did ascertain was that the child might grow out of his ways and never fully mature into a "blood sucker" as the specialist called his "breed". He also warned Mr Spencer, "Tell no one." Fearing society would reject his new son, Mr Spencer agreed.

Heath was told his cravings for blood would not reach full maturity until he did (at around eighteen) and in the meantime, he could be easily sustained with a diet high in protein and iron. He would keep ageing until then. As the venom in his blood was diluted, he would be given protection from sun. His image would appear in photographs and mirrors until it began to fade in adulthood. Kate's father had been assured by the vampire specialist it was completely safe for Heath to go to church and be around other children.

Mr Spencer was given a list of instructions similar to the ones the boy arrived with; that he had to be careful of the child's fair skin in the sun, (although a small amount wouldn't hurt as long as he took his daily supplements and wore a pendant protecting him from daylight). According to the notes, the child's mother was horrified the baby had crackled and almost burnt in the light. Heath had also tried to bite her when nursing. Finally, unable to cope, his mother had left him with Spanish nuns when he was just three months old. She had placed the protective amulet around the baby's neck along with a kiss as she broke down and put him in a basket outside the gates of the orphanage. As he grew, incorrigible, the child daily escaped and ran himself ragged along the Spanish streets. That was how Mr Spencer found him, pale and hungry for protein, like a wild kitten.

After the child arrived at Hareton Hall his incisors were painlessly filed down during regular check-ups at the family dentist and life resumed as normal. Life for Heath was a regular routine of vitamin taking, avoiding the sun, wearing his amulet (even in the bath) and craving roast dinners (his favourite). The child was deemed eccentric and wild but no one except Mr Spencer, Kate and Heath knew he was actually different. He had cravings for cooked, red meat, a desire to sleep half the day and stay up all night, but those were habits and slowly, Heath conformed to the ways of the household.

On one occasion, he had been caught off-guard when Kate's mother had walked in on the child playing with his train set and Heath, suddenly frightened, sensed an intruder. He turned round and hissed, before realizing the full impact of what he had done. His new mother fled from the room screaming, "He's not normal! He's just not normal!" Heath tried to apologize. The woman wouldn't listen. She packed her bags and wanted to take Kate with her; the little girl refused to go.

After Kate's mother left Hareton Hall, her father withdrew from the world. Mr Spencer retired from normal life and began to live in relative seclusion. He went for long walks during the day and took trips abroad, collecting plants to study and write about in his home office.

Growing up, Kate and Heath ran wild. As the years wore on, Mr Spencer became a hermit and slept often, worked in the garden and read the Bible fireside in the afternoons. One by one, the staff began to give notice, except the housekeeper Greta, who'd been with the family since she was sixteen. Greta had more to do than keep track of the wayward children who were soon expelled from the local primary school for "non-attendance, unruly behaviour" and (worst), "attempted biting," something Kate hotly denied as Heath looked on sheepishly.

Although Greta knew Heath was unusual, he'd managed not to reveal his secret to her. There had to be something wrong with him, Greta thought, but nothing that boarding school wouldn't fix. Besides, no one was perfect.

Although Mr Spencer felt especially partial to his youngest children, he began counting the days until they were old enough to be sent to Yardley Mansion School in Scotland, a Spencer family tradition. Perhaps they would learn something useful about discipline in such a prestigious establishment. After all, it would be nearly impossible to escape lessons there and Heath's condition seemed almost entirely under control, his penchant for roast dinners aside. But after all, who except vegetarians did not like a good roast?

When Heath grew stronger (useful against Harrison) and his inclinations grew rougher, he hid them and learned to control his desire to sometimes nip Kate on her leg or arm. In fact, he'd be horrified if she knew he once imagined tasting the pretty little vein in her wrist.

He'd educated himself and knew biting was wrong and never in a billion years would he wish to hurt the person he loved most in the world. Heath religiously took his supplements, wore his amulet and kept himself sustained with his favourite juice and meat. As he grew older, his cravings were not subsiding quite as easily.

Heath was closer to Kate than anyone. Apart from Kate's father, whom Heath regarded warmly, she was the only friend he'd ever had. Well, except for Greta, who, after a faltering start, grew to look upon Heath with great fondness. At first Heath didn't like Greta. She was always huffing and puffing in the kitchen about the extra work and ignored him when he asked lots of questions until he stopped talking altogether and then she said things like, "Has the cat got your tongue, young man?"

Harrison was at home for half-term holidays when the children started playing a particularly savage game of sardines. Heath had been caught running through the attic by Harrison and was beaten with a stick. Heath then (unsuccessfully) tried to drive his homemade stake into the older boy's leg. After witnessing Harrison's cruelty, Greta had become Heath's ally. She told Mr Spencer who reprimanded Harrison for picking on the smaller child and withdrew the older boy's financial privileges for a month. Harrison was angry; the boy was half his height but twice as strong.

'I'll get you back for this, charity case,' the older boy said as he again hit Heath when nobody else was about. There was enough force in that clip to make Heath's ear bleed. Heath bared his teeth, as he waited for the strength in his venom to take over. Kate swiped her elder brother and before long the three of them were wrestling, pushing, kicking and shoving each other until the little girl was almost squashed in the pile beneath. This just led the two boys to start fighting all over again. Heath bit Harrison on the wrist and spat out the taste just as quickly. Harrison called him a "little animal". Kate screamed so hard Greta had to race up the stairs to break them up.

Harrison would have been sent back to school to suffer the long weekend alone before term started but Greta noticed spots on all three children as she was sending them out of the room separately. They had developed chicken pox, which Harrison blamed on the local "state school scum" - Heath and his bratty little sister's school friends.

'Oh be quiet, Harrison!' Greta warned. 'I think it is far more likely that you carried the chicken pox back with you from that posh boys' school your father pays the earth for…'

Chastened, Harrison went back to bed moaning and demanding more sympathy. Both Harrison and Kate, spoiled before their mother left, demanded to be waited on hand and foot but not Heath. He had lain there, expecting very little sympathy (eyeing the specially delivered basket of blood oranges), sleeping most of the day and happy to gnaw on a chicken leg when it was given. Because he was a stoic little boy, Heath had won Greta over. She kept the best treats for him - fruit and sandwiches for his lunch (the boy always left the bread and ate the meat) - fussing over him like a young mother. This too, bred Harrison's resentment. Heath, for the first time in his young life, basked in the adoration the females of Hareton Hall gave him, and he grew into a tall, robust child whom Greta predicted would be, "a real lady killer one day".

At eight years old, that day hadn't quite arrived.

**Chapter Three**

_**Kate and Heath**_

After Mr and Mrs Spencer separated, Hareton Hall was never the same.__Mutual loneliness, secrets and headstrong natures had drawn Heath and Kate into an alliance. The days went by and as they grew together, the children craved freedom.

One cold day in November Kate and Heath lay side by side on Hampstead Heath making starfish in the snow. There was no sun as usual. Their arms and legs reached out forming windmills in the ice, so that their fingers almost touched.

'Kate?' the small boy asked as he sat up and wrapped his scarf around his neck and ears. He had dark hair and blue eyes and was as strikingly good looking as the girl, with her midnight curls and icy, reddened cheeks. Both of them had perfectly white teeth from their frequent trips to the dentist and Heath, in eighteen months, had learnt how to control his fangs, perfectly. Now that he was a little older, he never revealed them in public and they didn't need to be filed anymore.

'Yes,' she replied.

'I wish Harrison would stop picking on us.'

'Me too, he's…mean. Every time he comes home from school I dread it. He takes over the house and pinches me and locks me in my room when no one is about. Ever since mother…I can't say the words,' she said as she put her small hand to her mouth and Heath noticed a tear drying on her face. The recent abandonment of Kate by her mother had not overly concerned Heath, since the woman had had nothing to do with him on a daily basis and had shown little interest in his upkeep. But he understood how it felt to be left and reached out to commiserate with Kate.

That first night, after Mrs Spencer left, Kate and Heath had played with the train set until, eyes heavy, they fell asleep together on the floor. Greta had placed a pillow under each small head. Ever after, they slept near each other or on opposite sides of the wall. They made hand puppet shows in the moonlight on the walls of the play room and Heath always let Kate win at games.

'Don't cry,' Heath told Kate that day in the Hampstead meadow. 'You have to be strong. If you cry, your tears will turn to crystal in this weather and freeze on your face. Imagine how awful that would look. Yuck.'

Kate laughed. 'Perhaps it's for the best. You can save my crystal tears in a jar,' she joked.

'I don't like it when you cry,' Heath said, wiping the tears from her face.

Kate sat up and sniffed into her coat sleeve.

The boy took her mittened hand.

'Never cry again, Kate. We must be stronger than that, stronger than them.'

'Stronger than this?'

Kate rolled up the edge of her jeans to where her knee showed the beginnings of a scab and a remarkably deep bruise.

'It happened when Harrison kicked me because I wouldn't give him the riding whip father bought me for my birthday. I was afraid he'd whip Hero too much.'

To her surprise, Heath moved forward, leaned over her leg, touched the scab and moved closer, almost as if he was going to lick it.

'That's gross,' Kate said, 'you were going to kiss it better like Greta would. , I hate kisses, unless I'm the one giving them!' the girl announced, pulling her leg closer.

Heath looked very dejected and turned his face away.

Kate smiled; glad to have evoked such a strong reaction. She was 'quite the little exhibitionist', as Greta told her once.

'I'm only kidding! Gotcha…' Kate smiled.

Heath grudgingly turned to face her.

Kate covered her knee and changed the subject. 'I heard you playing guitar this morning. I can hear you from my room when I wake up. You play much better than Harrison.'

Heath beamed with pride. He wasn't used to hearing praise before he'd moved to The Hall. His only real problem was his adopted brother.

As if reading his thoughts, Kate said, 'Never mind, we'll get Harrison back one of these days. C'mon, I'll race you to the bus stop. I found some coins in Harrison's coat pocket when he was sleeping. Now we can go and buy sweeties.'

Heath didn't want to disappoint her with his unnatural lack of desire for sugary lollies.

Instead, Heath picked up a stick and used it to plough through the snow quickly. He withheld the urge, like small children sometimes have, to bash the flower beds because he was fairly sure Kate wouldn't approve. In this way, the children civilized and complimented one another's personalities.

'One day, when we're grown up, I'll take care of you, Kate,' he said.

'Silly, you take care of me already.'

'When we're grown up we'll get married.'

'Even sillier, we're brother and sister.'

'Not really. We're not actually related.'

The boy was annoyed his suggestion had not been taken seriously. He reached into his pocket and dragged out a remarkably fresh, although slightly crumpled, wildflower.

'I've been saving this all morning to give to you,' he said, handing her the daisy.

'Thank you,' she said, dismissively. Kate was already thinking about how easily they could avoid going to school and go straight to the sweet shop instead.

The boy picked up his brown leather satchel and headed to the bus stop, ignoring Kate as he walked past her. 'That will teach her a lesson,' he thought.

'Stop! Now you are being the silly one,' the girl said. 'We both know we're not really brother and sister.'

Heath smiled at Kate as she took his hand. The frozen winds played with their hair and both children forgot their conversation as they ran to stop the bus as it moved forward. The little boy was amazed at how fast he'd begun to run, almost merging in double quick time across the meadow. He had to wait at the bus stop for the girl to catch up.

**Chapter Four**

_**The Grange**_

It was so cold Greta noticed Kate's breath first as she entered the kitchen and placed her school bag on the floor. Heath dawdled behind his eye-catching counterpart. Kate was meticulous about her appearance. Her perfect curls lay in bunches behind her ears, tied in royal blue ribbons, the colours of her school. Her long socks were not rippled as other children's were. In fact, the uniform she wore was in good condition, unstained and nearly uncrushed. Greta looked at Kate again. She knew that after her mother had fled, literally fled the house one night to go gallivanting around Europe with a man she'd met in rehab, Kate had become unmanageable - but bunking school? She really didn't know what to do about this.

From the moment Kate had been born her Papa had indulged her every childish whim, much to the displeasure of her mother who worried that the child would be spoiled and difficult, like Harrison. Well, he was in boarding school where Kate would surely be sent soon, just as her older brother had been.

As for the "wild child", as Greta thought of him, he looked completely unkempt – shirt hanging out, hair unbrushed, knees scratched. He ran upstairs to Kate's bedroom (a converted ballroom) or to his own, the more modestly sized room opposite, to play video games and listen to music. The children would lounge around on the floor (strewn with the striped wrappers of Kate's favourite boiled sweets) in the afternoons. They ate and listened to music, hardly bothering to even attempt their homework.

Heath had long ago discovered the path around the side of the house, through the kitchen door where the new au pair was standing and peeling potatoes for dinner. He fled past their elderly gardener and crept inside the kitchen, thinking he might sneak past, but Greta was too quick. She grabbed him by the hands.

'Wait.'

'What Greta?'

'Don't say "what", I know what you've been doing, or rather not doing.'

'You just said "what".'

'That's not what I meant.'

'Said it again…'

'Oh, you little rascal!'

Heath sighed.

'What is it Greta?'

'You haven't been to school, have you? You and Kate have been gallivanting on the High Street. I can't believe you've not been detained by police! The meadow must be too freezing even for both of you, scamps. And look at that bruise on your leg, Kate.'

Kate moved behind the bench protectively. She didn't want Greta to have too much knowledge about the behind-the-scenes household warfare.

'If that's Harrison's doing, I told you to tell me if he ever tries to hit either of you again! He's twice your age. Honestly, I don't know what this family has come to ever since your mother left. I'll be calling social services next. Or they'll be calling me.'

'Oh don't do that Greta. I just knocked into something when I was out riding…at pony club.'

Heath looked at Kate quickly, knowing if they told on Harrison again, it would only make matters worse the next time he came home.

'I told you to tell me if that older brother of yours so much as raises his voice. He wouldn't dare do it in my presence. But that doesn't give either of you an excuse to avoid school. It's a good thing Harrison is going away to University. By then, he won't even be coming home for holidays…'

Heath and Kate were too quick. Greta talked on whilst they ate everything on the kitchen countertop behind her.

When Greta stopped talking, Kate took a bottle of fizzy drink and Heath grabbed a packet of Parma ham and they raced up the stairs, rejoicing in the time when their play room was empty of responsible adults (almost always). They had the whole ancient second floor to themselves in the afternoons. They could play their games or crawl outside, along the ledge that connected them to the ground and the road that led them to The Grange. Heath liked to go fishing in the stream and learned to make an open fire and cook the food on it. He was more and more interested in living in this natural, primal way, even at such a young age.

Annabelle and Edmund Hunt were the same age as Heath and Kate and their nearest neighbours. They were so stuck up neither Heath nor Kate had ever spoken to them. The blonde girl had poked her tongue out at Kate once during ballet lessons at the local church hall. Neither of the girls had spoken to each another since.

Kate and Heath lived in a world of their own - a world with a secret language and two rooms that adjoined each other with archaic light fittings, tall ceilings and furniture passed down through generations.There was a shabby opulence surrounding their secret society of two. Kate's room had a canopied bed with cream sheets and a blanket and an old fashioned cream lace doll.

On occasions when the neighbourhood children were invited to tea, the doll's house intrigued all of Kate's jealous little acquaintances (mainly from school). But Kate never let Heath catch her staring at the perfect dolls in their pristine world longingly. She knew he'd think envy beneath her.

As he grew older, he became tougher and more boisterous, wanting to be outside more than inside which, Greta reasoned, was only natural in an almost twelve-year old boy. Heath remembered little of his origins. It was as if he'd only ever existed in Kate's world, something he knew to be untrue. Yet Kate's father was the only father he remembered. Mr Spencer had been kind to him so he loved him as he loved Kate. But he knew her father was not his real father and that the "blood" running through his veins had some kind of magic in it. He felt different to other boys his age - happier roaming the woods than sitting in a classroom.

Harrison, in his final year of school, was still a problem. Once, when he was home from school for a weekend and Mr Spencer was at a business conference in Brussels, Greta was called away for the afternoon. Kate's older brother rounded up the children after she left and locked them together in the attic after inviting some of his older school friends round to party. Harrison thought it would be fun to terrify the "little kids". Neither Kate nor Heath rewarded him with their tears but there had been an all-out fight in the hallway after the children had somehow managed to break the lock. Harrison hadn't expected this but it was the last time he underestimated Heath's strength.

When Kate's father arrived home early, only to discover Heath and Kate amidst a mess of teen partying and chaos, he hit the roof. Mr Spencer packed Harrison off to the strictest boy's boarding school in the South of England to complete his finals. It was a place where corporal punishment was yet to be banned another reason for the older brother to harbour resentment against the smaller children. They were soon to be packed off to Scotland, to a co-educational school, strict but far less rigid than where Harrison was going.

It was summer by then; Mr Spencer had grown frail just as Heath and Kate grew stronger and taller.

Hampstead was quiet. It was as if the entire borough had gone on holiday. Heath had taken to staying outside but on one particular rainy and overcast day, Kate took an entire chicken and a jug of orange juice out of the fridge and set out lunch in the upstairs playroom.

They sat together, enjoying their meal that last Saturday before they were due to board the train to Scotland. Both Kate and Heath had grown more studious in preparation for boarding school. They even finished reading the required list of books, lying on their backs, in the window seats of the playroom. Kate smiled at Heath - sometimes she thought her father had brought Heath home to be her exclusive friend.

September arrived after an endless summer of reading and night swimming in the indoor pool. The day before they were due to leave for Scotland, bright sun shone through the bay windows. Heath, uncomfortable, pulled his amulet close to his chest. His eyes felt sensitive to the light.

'C'mon children,' Greta said, wanting to make their last day at Hareton Hall memorable. 'Rise and shine. It's a lovely day. Why don't we all take a picnic outside and go to Hampstead Heath? School doesn't start until Monday. C'mon, get dressed.'

The children were excited as they pulled on their shoes.

In the parklands, Greta spread the checked blanket out on the lavender field under an umbrella and the children hungrily heaped food on plates. Heath got bitten by ants but barely made a peep even when Greta soothed his calf with warm tea. The boy had never known such care and in all his young years, never seen a spread of such magnificence. He ate three pieces of turkey, a chicken leg, ham, a left over chop, a slice of bacon and a huge glass of orange juice. Kate and Greta drank tea and ate most of the cucumber sandwiches.

Afterwards, the children went running to the ponds to feed the ducks. As Greta lay reading a magazine, Kate and Heath discovered the hidden conservatory in a secluded part of the park. It was like being in another world, one far removed from London or Spain or family fighting or anywhere they had ever known - a glass palace with a covered in roof and shards of dappled, muted light (not enough to make Heath's skin burn). The building was filled with remarkable tropical trees and flowers growing in an adjusted temperature. There were even garden chairs to sit on and stare in wonderment at the magical surroundings. Both children thought the same thing; that they'd found a remarkable secret, a place where they could hide…and meet.

**Chapter Five**

_**Edmund and Annabelle**_

This secluded section of Hampstead Heath also led to a hidden laneway that attached Hareton Hall to The Grange. Kate and Heath ran down the lane and it brought them out in the garden of the neighbouring property. They laughed when they saw their neighbours, Edmund and Annabelle, in the distance. Viewed through the low, floor-length windows of the Grange, the Hunt siblings were taking private dancing lessons. Heath had never seen a ballet class and thought the whole thing was hysterically funny. Kate thought it was rather beautiful, but she would never admit that. The Grange was a world beyond billowing cream curtains where all seemed tranquil and safe. When the dance teacher tried to demonstrate with Edmund, how to partner, Heath literally fell on the ground laughing.

'Who's out there?' Edmund shouted, turning towards the window. Heath and Kate crouched out of sight, beneath the sill.

'Mind you keep your eyes up here while we are dancing,' the woman, wearing leg warmers and a tight hair bun, scolded him. Edmund reluctantly looked away. Annabelle glanced up when the teacher wasn't looking and noticed two children. The boy looked vaguely familiar to her, about the same age, running away from the house in the long grass. The girl tumbled in the heather and before long they were laughing and running, fading into the meadow.

If anyone had asked, Annabelle would have described them as the opposite of her and her brother; free. The blonde girl wished she could join them. Instead, her glacial, childish image, secured in tight ballet slippers and pink ribbons, her unsmiling yet lovely face, mocked her in the mirror.

That night, Heath lay awake under the covers of his bed, his school trunk packed, his uniforms tagged with his initials, perfectly starched and ironed. The summer wind outside howled through the trees and rain fell softly on the roof. He could see shadows of the branches outside. A breeze swept through the heath across the pond and along the heather fields. Then all he could hear were the traces of it, and in those traces, a whisper, and in that whisper, the sound of a tap at his door.

Kate came wandering into his room with her hair in curlers as she wanted to make a good "first day" impression at her new school.

'You look ridiculous,' Heath said. 'Go back to bed. You know Greta has warned you about not distracting me now that we are going to be in separate houses at our new school.'

Kate, hurt, turned and walked out of the room. Heath was sorry to have been so mean but how could he explain his issues to Kate? Lately, the desire to sink his teeth into her wrist was becoming stronger. He'd been taking his medication twice a day and was just about to take his evening dose when Kate arrived to tell him her hopes and dreams for the future. She'd gone back to her room, crawled upon her quilted bed and fallen asleep, listening to the storm rage outside her window.

Late, very late that night, the young girl woke to the sound of the screaming trees and the branches thrashing the window pane. She would not be rejected this time and opened the connecting door to find Heath fast asleep.

'Heath,' Kate whispered. 'Wake up.'

'What's wrong?' the boy said, crawling out from the sleeping bag he slept in for security – the one Greta had tried, with little success, to take away from him these past six years.

'I had a dream about us.'

'Shh. Go back to sleep, Kate.'

'I dreamt I was left outside in the rain, freezing in winter. I cut my arm on your window and it bled and hurt and I had to beg you to let me inside…'

Heath groaned. 'Don't say things like that Kate. I would never hurt you.' He moved uncomfortably, the venom sometimes pulsed more strongly in his blood at night, but he'd never told anyone this. 'Go back to sleep, Kate. It's almost morning. You know Greta doesn't like it when you come in here anymore…' He was due to take his morning vitamins, and then he'd be sure to feel normal for at least eight hours.

Heath rolled over. Kate hovered again and began to cry as she rocked his sleeping bag, forcing him to open his eyes.

'Heath, Heath, wake up.' He rolled over unwillingly. 'Promise me…promise me something.'

'Alright, I promise, now go back to sleep.'

'Promise me, if that ever happens, you'll let me in.'

'Heath smiled and shook his head sleepily, 'I promise. Now go back to bed.' Heath took his capsules from the bedside table and gulped them down in the morning light.

Kate crawled beside him, dragging her blanket around her, as he turned over. The girl gained comfort from her nightmare only when she managed to rest her head in the crook of the reluctant boy's shoulder.

**Chapter Six **

_**Katarina – Present Day**_

After a relatively comfortable sleep and the beginnings of an unusual story told to me by Greta Gardner as I sat by the fire in the owner's favourite chair, I was more than intrigued. I finally visited The Hall the next morning, cited the property, spoke briefly to the owner regarding matters of importance and took down the details required. I was then, surprisingly, invited to dinner at the pub the following week to finish up our business. As I drove out of the gravel driveway and slowly passed the pub, I saw that it was closed for the morning. I imagined the fireside warmly lit in the evening and the owner, who harboured his own secrets, sitting in my place.

That evening, Heath sat in his favourite armchair, reading the newspaper with more interest than he usually showed. He had the look of a burnt out rock star in his late twenties, still handsome and relatively young. He called his dog to heel and turned to sit at his chair near the fire. Greta was nowhere in sight; she'd gone home earlier to take care of her own children. A barman had taken her place.

Heath was sipping ale and still reading the newspaper when he heard a gaggle of shrieking teenagers who instantly irritated him. It was legal to drink at eighteen but he wondered why - girls dressed like tramps in denim shorts and black tights chugging down alcohol was a negative result. He should have imposed a dress code, he thought gruffly. Society had really gone downhill since the nineties. Then he remembered some of the looks of that era were pretty bad, too. He must be getting old, he thought, although no one would have known it. His face was harder but retained the handsome, boyish features of his youth. Recently, since turning thirty-nine, he'd felt quite ancient. Yet many of his business associates assumed he was much younger than he really was. There was no point in an explanation, revealing the secret of his youth.

He resigned to gruffly patting his dog and when he looked up the teenaged girls began joking around, making more noise than before. One of them, with long blonde hair and too much black mascara, waved at him. He turned away and stoked the fire. He wondered where their parents were and felt annoyed that his candle-lit lair was being infiltrated by the local riff raff. He looked back at his paper and shook his head.

His own son, annoyingly public school educated and hopelessly addicted to clubbing and drinking and smart-mouthing him, would no doubt have tried to chat them up. Heath had mostly, throughout his bizarre and unexpected life, been interested in people who at least seemed the same age as he really was. Since school, he'd felt people who hadn't lived as much of the journey as he had, had less to teach him. There was also the inevitable problem of his lack of ageing. People had started to notice. One of his old school acquaintances had asked him if he was on human growth hormones.

Hard living had taken its toll but Heath would never look older than thirty. His specialist told him that, realistically, he shouldn't expect to physically age more than twenty-six years (the age when his bones stopped growing and his venom fully matured). His sleeplessness kept him looking closer to thirty. The only thing that could finish him was a prolonged dose of sunlight or a stake through his heart, but agelessness, immortality was becoming a problem. His friends and associates looked a decade older. The longer he stayed in Hampstead, the more the whispers grew until they became openly hostile questions.

Heath flicked past the entertainment section in the paper, highlighting yet another vapid celebrity. His gaze then rested on the financial columns of the newspaper.

Normally these articles would have bored him but since the most recent financial crisis, he'd found them a lot more interesting. The companies he'd bought and discarded prior to 2008 had made him very rich, even richer than the acquisition of land and residential property. He was so wealthy that he only kept the Hampstead house out of sentiment. Just the thought of being nostalgic at his age, when some were just beginning family life, made him question his own sanity.

The candle on the low table near him flickered and his dog barked, unexpectedly, causing Heath to look up from his paper; what he saw made him catch his breath for the first time in years.

Kate's face.

The hair was lighter and straighter, but the face and body were the same. Her eyes were identical. Dark brown and large with long black lashes, hiding secrets he had only learnt once: same height, same face, same voice. His breath was taken away with a low sigh and he knew if he didn't speak to this woman… who was barely more than a girl, he would regret it forever. Still, it would take another drink to work up the courage.

The girl, in her long cream scarf looked up and matched his gaze. In the minute it took for Heath to decide whether to speak with her, the band played that song Kate loved….

'_It's my favourite,' Kate had said, laughing as she swapped earphones and grabbed Heath's hand in the clandestine meeting they'd had in the ten minutes before morning classes started. 'You can't imagine how much I love this song,' she added, dragging him through the school hall making a sunny spectacle of herself…wearing way too much eyeliner to get through the day without detention._

The girl was the image of Kate, yet not Kate. She ordered a fizzy drink but a pint of ale was placed in front of her. She glanced around the room, noting Heath's drink which had somehow been swapped with hers. The waiter was clearly not paying attention. Heath wondered if he'd finally lost his mind as the girl's stare intensified. She looked back at the barman. Oblivious to being studied, Kate's double wore a jaunty beret on her dark hair and had a colourful smile on her lips as her friends toasted her birthday.

'Happy eighteenth Katarina!' they yelled in unison.

Heath remembered the date. He was reminded every year.

In that moment, he hesitated to approach her and instead, glanced down at his paper. Moments later, as Heath read wearily beside the fire, a voice said, 'I think we've been given the wrong drink.'

Heath could not resist a question as he looked up at her shiny adolescent face and she replaced the cocktail glass in front of him with the ale.

'You're not, it can't be, Kate Spencer's daughter?'

'Kate? Oh, you mean my mother Kate?'

'Yes.'

'I suppose so. I'm Katarina Hunt. This is my birthday, obviously,' the girl said, glancing back at her friends who hovered near the bar.

'I know,' Heath said, surprised anyone would think he could forget such a thing.

'My father and I live just across the Heath. I've seen your photograph in the newspaper. You must be, my uncle?'

Her statement was so loaded Heath didn't know where to begin.

'Yes. You…you are my son's cousin.'

'My cousin… that's right… big family secret, no one speaks about it. None of the family even speaks to each other, clearly. How is it possible you don't look a day over thirty?'

'It's…the dark,' Heath replied.

She made a joke of it as only the young can. She was looming at the table now and had the audacity to pat his dog on its shaggy head. Heath's pet beamed from all her attention, a fact that Heath found mildly irritating.

'Do I… do I look like my mother?' the teenage girl said as the fire flickered.

And then it occurred to Heath, that instead of answering he could make her an offer she'd find difficult to refuse. After all, it was not too late and it was the girl's right to meet her cousin and see her mother's childhood home.

'Why don't you come back with me… to Hareton Hall? Her portrait remains on the wall. I'm headed there now. You can meet your cousin. There are also some photographs you might never have seen from…before. I'm sure your…father…won't mind.'

Katarina's eyes flashed and Heath saw a great deal of Kate's personality once again. It almost scared him, but not quite.

'Heel,' he said to his dog who'd started yapping excitedly (again) and was obviously beside himself at the smell of new company.

'Behave yourself,' Heath growled.

'Well, my friends…'

Katarina glanced back to the bar as the tall girl with blonde hair wandered over and gave Heath a bemused smile. Katarina introduced them to each other.

'Oh, so this is your uncle, Katty?' the girl asked in disbelief, as if to say, _yeah, right, he's way too young and hot._

'Kind of…we've only just met.'

Katarina's friend stifled a giggle as if she didn't believe her but either way, she didn't care. If Katty wanted to chat to this hot older man, that was her affair.

'Well, the night is young and so are we but we have to be going, early game tomorrow and all that. Are you coming with us Kat?'

At that moment Heath wore his most amiable expression.

Katarina knew she might only get this one chance to discover all she could about the people she'd only seen once or twice in old photographs.

The man in front of her was young and extremely handsome, yet so hard and cold. Something in her desired to visit his world, meet the cousin she'd never met as a child, see the house where her mother had been raised, learn the secret her family had kept for a generation.

'No,' Kate said. Then she looked at Heath and added, 'I'm coming with you.'

**Chapter Seven**

_**The Storm **_

His cravings had been less extreme this evening and he was fairly sure the parlour, where he kept his supply of freshly caught game, was locked. He did not wish this stranger to encounter an instant surprise. It would turn her off ever returning and Heath did not want to risk that just yet. He could only imagine the look of horror on her face if she was to discover his secret. They reached the gates through the midnight mist and Heath stopped the car with a jolt. He drove the vehicle fast and hard. He was not used to having guests. Heath had little thought for his passenger. Katarina arrived at the house looking white and surprised.

The girl shivered.

'Are you cold?'

'Yes.'

'Here, take this,' he said absently.

Heath pulled a red shawl out of the glove compartment and handed it to her.

'Who's?'

'It was your mother's,' he added.

Katarina didn't bother to ask what it was doing in his car.

The girl's fingers had practically frozen during the twenty minute drive that took them from icy country lane to mansion gates. Katarina had heard about this place only once during her childhood, had seen it from the heath but had never dared venture into its overrun grounds. They entered the hidden garden through the foggy, wrought iron gates that led to Hareton Hall.

After a few minutes of walking across slippery grounds, strange, open-mouthed statues greeted Katarina at the grand entrance.

Her father had never allowed her to speak of the Spencers and especially not her uncle. But recently, she and her cousin Linus had connected via the web and Katarina was more than a little intrigued about the mysterious 'other half' of her family. The outside lights came on as they walked over the gravel towards the front door which was overrun with creepers.

Her father would be concerned about her late night visit to The Hall but Katarina was fed up with being wrapped in egg shells. She pulled the red shawl round her shoulders and stuffed her curls into her woollen cap, dragging it over her ears.

'Quick,' Heath said, rubbing his hands. 'It's frozen out here. Be careful of the ice.'

She took his arm, surprised at how hard and strong the muscles felt. She hadn't expected her workaholic uncle to be so welcoming.

'I give the staff leave on weekends, can't stand them about me and I usually work on Saturdays anyway,' he added, amiably enough. _Rude, arrogant, reclusive_ were all words she had heard in connection with this man. So far, he was nothing like his press.

Apart from a few cobwebs at the side of the stone entrance, which was covered with climbing plants, the interior of the hall was miraculous; turning a simple switch lit up grand chandeliers that led to a parlour, kitchen and vast hall and dining room. There was a series of ancestral portraits lining the walls to the right of the entrance - one of her mother. The interiors were lush but tasteful.

Heath wandered into the kitchen after they'd walked the length of the entrance.

Katarina was agog. She was used to being the richest girl at her all-girls' school but she had never seen such opulence. Her hand brushed the entrance hall side table and wall

of mirrors as they walked towards the drawing room.

'Ah, I see Greta's left a note. Greta was my housekeeper and she used to look after your mother and me…when we were little. She was not much older than we were. Seems funny now,' he mused as he found the key to the cabinet.

'Greta locks it, she gets worried when I drink alone,' Heath said, 'but I know where she hides the key.'

Katarina looked around her.

'Another drink?' Heath asked.

'Yes,' Katarina said.

'Something stronger?'

'Yes, please.'

'Brandy?'

'Okay.'

'Brandy is best on cold winter nights,' Heath chuckled to himself, pouring her less than he normally would, though she had officially reached legal drinking age. Katarina wondered if he was over the limit but his hand was steady as he carried the decanter into the Edwardian drawing room. Drinking brandy in the evenings was as normal to Heath as breathing.

'Was this once…a ballroom?' Katarina asked as she unwound her red scarf with the graceful moves of a ballet dancer.

'It was not,' Heath said, sitting easily on the black leather sofa.

'It is definitely big enough.'

'Funny. I remember thinking that when I arrived here the first time. Actually, the ballroom was upstairs. For some reason, the children's rooms were built connecting to it, so we often heard dancing - "partying" as you'd put it - loud noises, fighting. He noticed the look of surprise on Kate's face.

'Where's Linus?'

'Not home yet, apparently. Probably at a dance club.'

'Oh. I met him once, online.'

'How modern,' Heath mused.

Heath checked his text as the wind started to howl and announce its presence in a storm. The rain trickled down slowly at first, like water on tin, then the storm gushed through the

open window, spraying its fury over the low table and threatening a vase of flowers. Katarina moved to hold it upright.

Heath's phone beeped, relaying a text.

'That's Linus. He won't be home for an hour or so; nice of him to let me know. To be honest Katarina, I thought you might be a…good influence on my son.'

Heath pulled the window down as far as it would go, shutting out most of the storm.

'Why? Is he out of control?' Katarina joked.

Heath turned to look at the girl squarely.

'He is spoiled, Katarina, and weak. I fear I may have indulged him.'

Katarina glanced at the photographs on the wall. She wasn't sure how to respond to his directness.

'But you have another…son?'

'Oh, that's Harrison's wife's brother, Hinton. He lives here and works in the evenings. You may have already met him. He studies at the same college,' Heath said, starting to feel the familiar tightness in his arms. He'd need to feed and take his medication soon.

Katarina had told Heath during the car trip all about where she studied.

'I've heard about him,' she said, reluctant to tell Heath about his nephew's reputation. The girl looked around and sighed as the storm and the darkness swamping the confines of The Hall seemed to embrace her. Heath was taken aback at the image she made in the half-light, so similar to the photographs he had of Kate, tucked away in his wardrobe. The need to take his vitamins and drink Magenta overcame Heath. He quickly excused himself and began to walk out of the room.

'I'll get some photographs,' he offered. 'Should keep you busy until Linus returns at some unearthly hour. I'm not even sure which club he's gone to but once he's out he doesn't come home until late. I could drive you back to The Grange, but to be honest, we should wait for the weather to clear.'

'Of course,' Katarina said. There was obviously no choice since storm warning, news flashes were being broadcast. Heath turned to leave the room and Katarina flicked the switch on the flat screen and turned on some music instead. Something old and classical, Katarina thought. The low lighting flashed once and then the power went completely: no television, no CD, no sound except the thrashing of water on trees.

'I'll get the candles,' Heath offered. 'I know where Greta keeps them,' he added.

'Okay.'

Kate froze. The house was way creepier in the dark.

Moments later, Heath came back with lamps for each of them.

'Old-fashioned, I know, but they work.'

It occurred to Heath that from outside the window any stranger could see him entertaining a young female. Of course, they'd have to make it past the vast security on the neighbouring property, which he also owned, to find this place. Still, the thought suddenly bothered him as he pulled the curtains. His intentions for this girl had nothing to do with forming any kind of connection with her. She was merely the final piece in the jigsaw puzzle that formed his bizarre life, if that's what it was called.

He was determined not to let her realize she was trapped. The girl must want to stay, he thought, at least for now. He wondered how to get her to agree, as he stopped in the kitchen and took his medication mixed with protein powder. Heath was able to drink a variety of blood but tonight he felt like 0-negative. He glanced out the window as he guzzled, noting the heaviness of the rain. The dark, vicious winters fuelled his fantasies… and his nightmares. When he finished drinking, he thought he should find the photographs first - distract the girl.

He'd heard the neighbours at the pub gossiping about Hareton Hall but their stories had never bothered him until now.

He ventured into Kate's old room in the half-light and opened the door to her wardrobe which was a converted spare room. Her things had barely been touched since they'd been packed away when Kate had left The Hall forever. He was tall and could easily reach the top shelf but her many shoes had been piled together. There was a loud crash as some folders tumbled down in front of him.

_Blast that boy_, he thought. Of course Hinton had been in here rummaging through their old school texts and files. People often wondered why he'd adopted Hinton from Harrison as a six year old, but he never liked to comment publicly on family matters. He didn't believe in filling the gossip columns with his motives and every minute detail of his family

life though people in cyberspace now did. It was bad enough that the many girlfriends he'd had over the years since his wife left him had talked about him publicly. Heath felt social networking sometimes degenerated into an excuse for public one-upmanship and he wanted no part of that. But then, he had more than most to hide.

He wondered what the boy could possibly have been looking for in the room that now housed a filing cabinet in the corner. He recalled a recent conversation with Greta as he rummaged…

'Let's be honest Heath, I'm fed up with your haphazard lifestyle. I promised to stay until the children were raised and they're grown up now…almost. They don't need me anymore and nor do you. Everything's under control.'

'Don't leave us, Greta.'

'That's not the point Heath. The place itself is just _filled _with ghosts. I don't mean literally, I mean from the past…and you should think about selling it…for your own good. I have my own children to raise, Heath. Move on. Get married again. Start anew. Put away the old ways, Heath. Revive yourself. That's my advice, for all the good it will do…'

Heath had looked at her as if she were mad. He'd even had the house redecorated just to please her and had converted the drawing room into a room of Edwardian taste bathed in blue light, a blue-seeming flame in the fireplace, candles and candelabras and lush crystal chandeliers. The lounge room had been updated from its 80's look to the modern era with sunken leather furniture and various reference journals and magazines lining the covered shelves. Heath had always refused to take down the portraits.

'I tell you Heath, living in the past is no good for anyone,' Greta had told him.

'You don't know the half,' he'd said dismissively as he walked down the stairs and out the door to the office building he worked in (and owned) deep in the City of London.

On this night, he turned up the paraffin lamp to find what he was seeking and reached to grasp it.

Meanwhile, Katarina, who felt a little like a trapped bird waiting out the storm which had begun in earnest, wandered over to the fire and started going through a pile of old CDs (there were even some old vinyl albums!) which lay around the edges of the brick. Her cousins mostly liked the same music although both of them seemed to be more into "house" than she was.

She was glad her father, a kind man, had taught her to appreciate all musical styles over the years even though he'd insisted on piano lessons to fill The Grange with the music that had left it, along with her mother. Katarina noticed the grand piano gathering dust in the corner and imagined her mother, Kate, once playing it.

Katarina remembered her mother's face from photographs. She had been so young when she had Katarina, only eighteen. Katarina glanced into the glass above the fire. The girl realised, as she rubbed the life back into her cold cheeks, that her mother had been the same age as she was now; the same age as her uncle would remember her.

Weary from the long day and warmed with brandy, Katarina slumped on the couch. It was a good thing she didn't need to go back to college tomorrow, or anywhere, really. The rain and hail began to pelt down forming sleet outside the window. She texted her father, so he wouldn't worry. There was no need to fill him in on the details. He'd assume she was with friends. Besides, it would be foolhardy to travel on the country roads just now, though the haunted interiors of this opulent palace made her feel like a trapped bird.

**Chapter Eight**

_**Winter Nights**_

Finally, Heath shone the torch on the dusty old shoe box he was looking for.

'This should satisfy her imagination,' he thought.

Inside lay a pile of photographs, taken pre-digitally, tied in a bundle with a red ribbon. The photographs were of the Spencers, as children, at the local primary school and playing together on Hampstead Heath. There were more taken at boarding school in Scotland. They had not been looked at or moved for almost twenty years and the top of the box was thick with dust, but other than that, the photographs were in remarkably good condition.

Heath rubbed his arms. He could anticipate need now, the need for his medication, the need for blood. Heath could feel the surge of want and desire in his venom. The tightness in his calves and wrists would move through his body as his strength seemed to decrease physically. He'd neglected his pint of blood this evening, which he always drank before eight pm, but then he'd never had visitors to distract him. He looked at the photograph in his hand.

'Your beautiful face,' Heath whispered, fingers tracing the paper outline of her jaw as he held the edge of the torch in his mouth He dropped it when he heard the dog bark and the girl cry out. He rushed down the stairs to the drawing room.

Rain streamed in through the broken window creating a fast-growing puddle of water in the drawing room. He walked over to block the window with a chest of drawers as the girl shrank into the corner of the wall…

'I… I went to close the shutter and someone tried to grab my hand.'

Heath paused.

'You must have imagined it Katarina. It was the wind and the rain. The winds are strong; it's so isolated out here. A noise sounds louder than it really is. Shadows seem like people. Now, calm yourself. Here, take a seat and have a sip of your drink. I'll make some tea.

Katarina sat on the couch, shocked and shaken.

'How did you do that? Move the chest so easily? Pull down the window as if it was as light as a feather?'

Heath finished his drink and paused.

'It's not as heavy as it looks'

The answer seemed to satisfy Katarina who continued, 'The fingers, they were so cold…her skin was…white. She wore a nightgown.'

'Honestly Katarina, you sound like you've read too many horror stories…'

'Suddenly, I feel like I'm living one.'

'Only suddenly?' Heath said sarcastically. 'You wouldn't be the first to say that. I'm thinking of selling it…. But nevertheless, it's not safe to leave now.'

'It's not safe to stay…'

'Nonsense…mind plays tricks in here. I'll take you home the minute the storm finishes or morning comes…whichever arrives first.'

Katarina sighed as Heath smiled and helped her to her feet. Her father had clearly exaggerated. No stranger could have been more welcoming.

Heath smiled again as he settled a mohair rug around the girl. Katarina accidentally touched his hand and was shocked. His palm was as cold as ice. He withdrew his hand quickly and rubbed his fingers together.

'Thank you,' Katarina said, pretending not to notice. Little did she know what an effort it was to play nice. Heath had managed to take a few more sips of blood in his bedroom before going to find the photos and was feeling somewhat revived. He had no attraction to this girl's blood. In any case, it was strange. He hadn't even thought of drinking her, especially as he was hungry. He'd trained himself to withhold when it came to people he liked or met as friends. Perhaps this came from being "mixed-race". Heath's specialist had once considered him that rarest of things; a vampire-human hybrid. Now, he felt more vampire than hybrid.

'I aim to please,' he said cheerily, aware how bland he sounded. He handed her the photograph album as he spoke. 'We open the grounds to visitors in the summer now that…my wife has left and the children have grown up. I usually move to the Southern Hemisphere and enjoy the winter in New Zealand (Heath wanted to add, _'It's cold there when it's hot here and there's an endless supply of animal protein and blood and no one asks any questions_.') Instead, he used the open house story as an excuse, adding, 'I was…opposed to it at first, but the visitors bring in extra revenue and I don't have to put up with them… and, it all goes to a good cause - my charity for abandoned children…'

Her uncle sat opposite her now, sipping his brandy as he discussed the plight of orphans.

How could a man who was involved in charitable causes be as bad as her father had said?

The phone rang. Heath picked up the receiver. He spoke curtly as Katarina poured over the photographs on her lap.

'That was Linus,' Heath added, after he hung up. 'He's been caught up in the West End and Hinton is working late at the studio. He goes to evening classes sometimes. I just got a text. They don't speak to me usually. Apparently, I spent too much of my energy on work when they were growing up and now they don't want to know me.' Heath rationalized this partial lie as easier than the truth.

Katarina looked intently at the photographs of two children dressed up formally for a family function in the grounds of Hareton Hall. They looked like twins apart from the fact that one was a little taller than the other.

'That's us, when I first came to live with the Spencers,' Heath said.

'You both look…so sweet,' Katarina said. 'I was wondering…why didn't my father like you?'

Heath paused, wondering how much to tell the girl.

'He didn't like me because he thought he was better than me…it's as simple as that.'

The girl shook her head incredulously. 'Oh…but my father would never…'

'It…was different then. Everything was different.'

Heath smiled. Katarina noticed his perfect, white teeth.

'It's late, we can continue our discussion at a later date,' Heath added, rising from his chair.

It bothered him slightly to have her in the house all night, not because he cared what anyone would think but… well, for reasons which had already become obvious. The house itself…was unreliable, strange… creepy. His desires were manageable. He was determined she would not discover his secret but the girl had made an accurate assessment of hidden forces that swirled through the hall like ghosts.

'When was this taken?' Katarina asked as Heath stood up.

The girl held the photograph of two children, the boy with an untucked shirt, messy hair and wayward striped tie, and the girl, standing up straight with knee high white socks and braids. The boater hat sat atop her perfectly styled hair.

Heath looked at the photo dismissively.

'First day of boarding school, Greta took us to the train. We each had trunks with our names engraved on them in gold.' Heath smiled at the memory.

'Really…I didn't know you and mother went to school together.'

'We didn't…not really. There was a boys' school and a girls' school. They shared the same playing fields.'

'Did you meet up in secret then?'

He suddenly tired of Katarina's constant questions and wanted someone else to distract her. He didn't expect her to be so smart, or to like her, even a little. Perhaps she had more of her mother in her than her father.

'Sometimes,' he said warily, 'Kate…your mother…came to my football games.'

The storm howled outside as if to prove a point. Heath walked heavily over to the bay windows and checked the locks from the inside to prevent the incessant rattle which shook the room in the dark. Usually, it drizzled here but tonight was different. Tonight reminded him of Scotland and the stormy night his band played in the school hall for the first time.

'I like this photograph,' Katarina said. 'I've never seen it before. Where did she get the outfit?'

Kate stood on the stairs of a ballroom in a beautiful, low-cut, pink satin drop-waisted dress wearing high heels, tassels on the knee length hem and a sequinned choker around her head. 'It was the school formal, I suppose they call it a "prom" on those American TV shows,' he said dismissively. 'The theme of the occasion was 1920s,' he warmed to the memory, 'The band I was in tried playing jazz, dressed as gangsters. We thought we were so cool. Your mother, Kate, was determined to be the centre of attention that night…' Heath looked at the photograph and smiled.

As if reading his thoughts, Katarina said, 'Wearing that dress, I bet she succeeded.'

**Chapter Nine**

_**Sixteen**_

Kate had gone to buy the dress on one of their rare Saturday mornings in Edinburgh. They were sixteen and Kate was determined to drag Heath into town with her to pick up the dress. He pretended not to care because he hated shopping but secretly enjoyed having Kate as his exclusive companion during their journey. He'd grown older and stronger in their years at boarding school. He was managing his condition, and no one except Kate had ever guessed.

The boy enjoyed any excuse for freedom outside the school grounds. He didn't see Kate at all during school hours. Although he'd hated being sent away at first, he found the regimented atmosphere of sports and lessons suited him more than he ever imagined it would. Being able to climb higher, jump faster, bat harder and kick longer in games gave him an edge and made him popular with other boys, but it wasn't them he wanted to impress most.

Heath pretended it was an imposition as the note was delivered to his class. He and Kate arranged to meet, catch the bus and have lunch in an old-fashioned tea room (Heath would have preferred lunch at the pub, obviously, but this compromise meant he'd just have to pick the meat off the sandwiches). Besides, to impress Kate, he wanted to go along with her wishes.

Edinburgh on Saturday morning in April was a jostling, architecturally spectacular city. The light was low, like London but the open wind made it pleasantly colder. Heath wished he could have driven the car he'd been saving to buy from the "business" he ran after lights out. All of the boys from his boarding house were involved in a betting game related to the school fixtures. Heath would have been suspended, or worse, if it was discovered they were using real money to bet. The game had been running for more than a year and Heath, as bookmaker, was making a handsome profit. With his winnings, Heath and Kate could have taken a car if he'd been allowed to drive but the school (stupid school that it was in relation to rules) forbade it.

Heath would have ignored the rule, like most of the other rules at the school, if it hadn't been so difficult to break without being noticed. He was careful not to draw too much attention to himself. Being taller, faster, smarter and better looking (according to Kate) than other boys, made this difficult. Because boys placed less value on looks and more on accomplishment, they didn't dislike him as much as they would have if they'd all been girls and one outshone the others. Really, his mates looked up to him in a way he was sure they wouldn't, if they knew the truth. He kept his medication hidden. He kept his drinking supplies (type O in secluded plastic packages from the blood bank) in a locked, private fridge that (as house captain) he had exclusive access to. The school nurse was told as little as possible. She thought Heath had a rare condition and relayed instructions from his doctor without telling anyone or asking too many questions.

Edinburgh wasn't home to him but he had grown fond of the city. He thought one day he and Kate might live there or maybe New York or London if she had a preference. Anywhere dark and cold but populated would be good. They both liked entertainment and crowds they could blend in to. He glanced at Kate sitting beside him on the bus. Neither of them had their head phones on, preferring each other's silences to music. He looked at her profile, her perfect features and warm smile, her fragile collarbones leading to her neck.

He tried to stop the thought. Yes, her smile was beautiful, though he'd never told Kate this but it was her body and soul he wanted to possess, just as she possessed his, in theory. The warmth of her skin, her blood - intangible and unknown - was a perfect mystery to him. He tried to avoid staring longingly at the tiny rippled vein above her shirt collar. Heath inched his hand across without looking at her. When she laced her warm fingers around his gloved ones, as they approached the main cobbled street, the venom in his veins pulsed.

Kate always asked after him in a whisper. _How was he feeling? Not too weak or strong? Not tired or sleepy? Weird? _(Always weird!) _Did he need her to go with him to see a specialist? No_.

Heath insisted he was as normal as possible. He wanted no fuss. They were discovering new treatments constantly and he was perfectly fine; he'd be okay…just like her. Only, he knew he was nothing like her. Not really - apart from their obvious physical resemblance which, creepily, made others assume a biological connection that didn't exist.

Kate smiled. She loved the fact that, lately, her attention seemed to make Heath nervous. It was strange and unexpected and thrilling; he'd agreed to come with her to pick up her dress. They came into town only when they got a leave pass, and she knew Heath disliked shops. There was no way he'd do this for just anyone, least of all Annabelle Hunt. To say Kate wasn't really fond of Annabelle was an understatement. Kate did not place huge value on female friendship and Annabelle had a job ahead of her trying to befriend Kate. Kate often outshone other girls her age and had been brought up around boys. Besides, Kate was still getting over the fact that the Hunts had been sent to the same boarding school. In any case, Kate felt she had little in common with other teenage girls. Many had tried to befriend her, briefly, only for Kate to discover their real desire was to become close to Heath.

It had taken Kate ages to get used to seeing the Hunts every day at school. She suspected it was harder for Heath who understandably harboured a grudge against them. Kate knew if they ever found out who… or what Heath really was, they'd be shocked. They might even shun him. Kate didn't want Heath to have to go through that. She didn't want to give the other girls and boys a chance to reject him. He was hers, Kate thought possessively as she linked her arm through his.

One day he would be fierce and fully grown. By then, there might not be laws discriminating against vampires. One day, Heath might be able to be honest about who he really was. But until then, it would be easier to stay in the shadows. Kate often read marginalized news items with titles like, _Blood Stocks Low_, and stories about the "threats on the London tube," and the "new hybrid species of humans" with "unidentifiable blood types", rumoured to exist. No one had ever come out as a hybrid…or a vampire, for fear of being ostracised.

The pair rounded the corner from the main street to the bus stop.

'C'mon,' Heath said, pulling Kate's hand. 'Let's get off here and walk the rest of the way.'

'Okay,' Kate replied. She wondered if he ever noticed how adoring she was in his company. Kate certainly hoped not. They had never kissed. Heath was worried it might get out of hand and he'd fang her before he controlled himself. He was not yet fully grown and might be so out of control he couldn't resist and Kate could end up missing a chunk out of her neck or worse.

Kate was secretive about her feelings for him or as secretive as she could be. How could he not notice that she worshipped every step he took, to a degree that both excited and scared her? She was glad to be wearing the jeans and new jumper she'd ordered from a London catalogue. She was dressed fashionably but Heath barely looked. He was too busy hungrily glancing into the eyes of strangers.

Together, they reached the shops in double quick time. These days, Heath seemed to almost merge through crowds. He could look into her eyes, and she would know what he wanted before he'd even said it. They were becoming twin souls.

'This is good,' Heath said. 'The people traffic isn't too dense. We can get this over with and then have some lunch before they call out the search and rescue dogs for us.'

Heath was always hungry.

'I thought you got…permission to come,' Kate said.

'No…ah, not exactly,' Heath said. He'd handed in an unfinished assignment and had been asked to stay back on Saturday and complete it. Heath liked to bend the rules and had climbed out the window. Kate shrugged, knowing the teachers liked him too much for him to ever get into serious trouble. She was secretly thrilled he'd risked a further detention for her.

Together, they rounded the corner of a laneway and walked past a fish and chip shop that sold deep fried fish, chicken and… chocolate bars?

'I've always wanted to try one of those,' Kate said as she walked into the boutique next door.

'Your every wish must be granted. Wait there,' he said.

Kate loved it when Heath said things like that, flattered her and made a joke of her vanity. He ran into the shop and ordered two battered treats; he returned minutes later as Kate wrapped tightly in her long coat, hovered outside the shop. Heath held two wrapped packages. He gave Kate the first one; a battered chocolate bar with soft caramel oozing in the centre, whilst he chomped on the other - deep fried chicken. Kate's coat bag was draped carefully over her arm as they sat in the bus shelter and ate hungrily.

'Mmm… yummy,' Kate said.

'Like I said, your every wish is my command.'

'Nothing but the best for me, hey Heath…' Kate joked.

'I thought that was what you wanted…' the boy said, suddenly worried he had misread her.

'Of course, this is one of the highlights of my sixteen years…'

'Mine too…' Heath said, smiling. Heath had the nicest smile Kate had ever seen, the thickest brown hair and the kindest eyes. His teeth were perfect, (although she missed his little fangs, retracted so long she hadn't seen them in years). Kate looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring at his mouth.

Moments later, Kate screamed as a bus sped by and the water in the gutter splashed them. In seconds, water pools swirled around their feet and the edges of their jeans were soaked in muddy rain.

'Oh well,' Kate said, 'I suppose they can be dry cleaned…'

Heath looked at her, the warmth of his smile suddenly making even the cold weather feel less inclement. He moved closer. Kate could nearly feel his breath. The boy opened up his coat, snug and larger than hers and enveloped her in its dry warmth. Rain tumbled down from the sky. Heath's body temperature these days was not cold but he always seemed to need an extra jumper.

'This is Edinburgh for you,' Heath said. 'Quick…'

They moved from the bus stop, which was largely uncovered, to the shelter of the shop front. In the fading afternoon sun, Kate leaned in and kissed Heath, softly on the mouth. Heath was surprised and soon they were covering each other in sweet, warm kisses.

At first, Heath was reluctant. After Kate kissed him he leaned back hesitantly. Heath managed to kiss Kate again without wanting to drain the blood from her neck and felt only mild discomfort in his veins.

The discomfort soon turned to bliss. Being around her for so many years made control possible…just; he'd taken his medication while he waited for her. This "control" was a revelation to him. They kissed again. Heath suddenly pushed her away, feeling the tiny pang of his extending incisors.

'I'm…sorry,' Kate said.

'It's…it's not your fault. I'm just…'

'I know,' Kate whispered, turning his face to hers.

The boy shyly reached his gloved hands under her coat. Heath pulled Kate closer to him - so close she felt, for a moment, unable to breath. The depth of their affection scared her. She lowered her arms into him, stayed locked in his embrace and just as quickly pushed him away.

'I…I didn't expect us to be so…'

'What?' Heath said, unsurprised by the extraordinary feelings he felt. Alarmed she might be rejecting him, he suddenly felt his incisors extending again and turned his face away, ashamed.

'Look at me,' Kate said. He retracted his fangs fully in that moment before doing so, proving to himself that control was completely possible.

'I don't want us to have any secrets. I was going to say…good. Together we are so…'

'Bad?' he smiled. Heath leaned in towards her as they waited for the downpour to stop. Wrapped in each other's arms, they were glad to miss the first bus back to school.

**Chapter Ten**

_**Hinton**_

'It's late… ' Heath said, changing the subject as Katarina took another sip of tea.

It was past midnight and the storm hadn't subsided.

'Do you mind if I stay the night?'

Heath was mildly surprised but glad he hadn't had to make the suggestion.

'Of course not, I don't know when or even if the boys will be home, but there are six guest rooms and Greta should be in at eight in the morning. Take your pick. I'm just going to stay here by the fire, go through a few papers. I have a business meeting in the City tomorrow. Even though it's Saturday, some of the foreign markets don't sleep.'

'Mmm…' Katarina said. Normally she would have felt odd staying in a stranger's house. Before it was her uncle's it had, after all, been her mother's. Katarina was surprised Heath had become so traditional. He'd once dreamed of being a rock star according to a letter her mother had written (the only one that she had been allowed to read and keep).

Katarina gazed at her mother's portrait in the hallway. How was it possible to look so similar to a person you didn't know?

'Thank you. I just texted my father and he thinks I'm staying with my friend - the girl you met in the pub.'

'Blonde one, long hair?'

'Yes, that one,' Kate regularly excused Stacey's flirtatious behaviour.

Heath nodded, making himself seem more amiable than he was. He tried to imagine he hadn't dreamed of sinking his teeth into the blonde girl's neck and draining her until she shuddered.

'I was wondering if I could sleep in my mother's old room?'

Heath hesitated, but he knew refusal would put her off guard.

'Well…um, I don't think Greta has the bed made up.'

'Which one is it?'

'First right, top of the stairs, but…' He could feel his muscles tightening; he needed his medication and perhaps some protein from the larder…

'That's okay; I'll just take this…' Katarina gestured to the checked mohair blanket that had been wrapped around her. Before Heath could utter another word, she said good night and was bounding half way up the creaking staircase, two steps at a time, revealing her youth.

It would be a long night, Heath thought, as he finished his pint of Magenta and took some extra capsules. The storm water pelted down on the sill in the drawing room as the lights suddenly flashed. The dog jumped up and howled. His ears were alert to the unfamiliar sound of music playing from Kate's old bedroom.

'Settle,' Heath warned.

The dog nuzzled his head under his paws and softly growled instead. He sensed a person approaching.

Outside, Hinton, Heath's adopted son, walked alone towards the house. He was grown now, hunched over his plastic-wrapped package. It was his latest completed canvas, carefully covered. Hinton had lived at Hareton Hall since his sister, Frances, had arrived with him in tow eighteen years ago. Now he had no family but Heath and Linus. The boy wore a blue scarf, brown coat and ski hat pulled down over his ears. He'd been in central London finishing his Art History class and then he'd stayed on to assist the tutor during a photography lesson. Hinton was one of the best students at Art College and made extra cash tutoring. The class had been developing film (in a dark room during their lesson in pre-digital camera work) and some students had then decided to go into the West End for drinks. Before he knew, it was almost daybreak.

The boy hated going home. His uncle was legally his adopted father but Hinton always called him Heath. Before Hinton went off to class, Heath had been in a surlier mood than usual and was always on at him about "making something of his life" and going to work in the City at the family firm. Hinton couldn't believe he expected so much of him when he expected absolutely nothing of his own son. Linus, who was blonde like his mother, did little else except socialize and run dance parties in abandoned fields.

Heath and Hinton had countless arguments about Hinton's "lack of direction." Hinton knew Heath liked to keep his family close by and didn't want either of his sons to leave home before they had finished studying. He was a difficult and unsociable parent but he was the only parent Hinton had since his own had died shortly after his birth. Franny had raised him until her desire to flee The Hall after Harrison's death overcame her. Hinton was in school then and The Hall became his holiday home. Greta, who had children of her own to care for, only came in three days a week now.

Heath rarely trusted new people enough to actually employ them so when staff left, they were not replaced. Over the years only Greta remained. Hinton couldn't really believe how he'd been trapped into his adopted father's lair, especially since Heath had never actually been demonstrative towards him during his childhood. But then, he'd never shown much love to his own son, either. Slowly, Hareton Hall had become his home. And it was all because of _her,_ Hinton thought. As he neared the house, the first picture to greet him in the hallway would be Kate Spencer's.

Hinton was sceptical about love partly because of the rumours that connected her to his adopted father. Besides, Hinton was nineteen and had a reputation to uphold. He enjoyed "playing the field" as Heath used to say in the old days. Since Art College had more female students than males, the odds were definitely in his favour. Even so, Hinton couldn't wait to get out of Hampstead for good. As he walked up the drive, along the old stone road, shivering in the early hours of the morning, he considered the merits of leaving London. The borough was freezing and the cab from the station would only take him so far along the icy road now that the storm was subsiding. He often took the bus. There was nowhere to park in central London anyway and he hated asking Heath for money.

**Chapter Eleven**

_**Remember **_

Hinton was surprised that the lights were still on in the drawing room as he entered the house. The dog had slept by the fire until everyone else had gone to sleep. Then, he'd done as usual and wandered upstairs to lie at the foot of his master's bed.

The boy had removed his coat; he wore the latest sneakers and low rise jeans. Hinton wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. He hoped Greta had left something since. He was very hungry after hours of clubbing in Soho. He was often photographed there with various girlfriends, but lately, his shallow existence had begun to bother him. Perhaps he was more like his adopted father than he thought. The family photographs that filled the drawing room told barely half the story of its dysfunction.

Hinton shook his head at the pictures on the wall as he climbed the stairs. It was funny to him that Heath could give himself airs and graces but no one knew where he came from either. Heath could use the title bestowed upon him for "services to the economy" but that didn't make him a Lord, not in Hinton's eyes. He couldn't have cared less about titles but he thought it almost funny that he had to practically ask permission to live in his own house when his sister had more rights to it than Heath (who only owned the house because of a swindle…) but that was another story.

The boy was aware there were two sides to the family history. In the first version, Heath had "saved" him as a child from a vicious beating by his drunkard brother-in-law, Harrison. The other was contained in an apologetic note from Harrison years later. Truth lay somewhere in between. One thing Hinton knew for sure; Heath cheated Harrison out of his own home during a game of high-stakes poker.

There are always more sides to a story but this was the particular side that Hinton chose to believe. Before the bet, papers had been signed. Heath, the foundling child, had risen to become the rightful owner of Hareton Hall. Hinton grimaced in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth and splashed his face. His image was hazy with condensation. He rubbed the mirror with a towel and wiped his face dry. Hinton turned off the light and walked quietly to his room. Heath's light was on. As usual Hinton didn't bother to say goodnight. Instead, he flopped on his own bed fully clothed.

Heath wasn't so bad. He'd been more of a father than Harrison and treated him more like a biological son than the father he'd never met. Besides, unless he won the annual Art Prize at his college, he had nowhere else to go.

Hinton had flicked on the television news in his bedroom and was chugging orange juice and eating what was left of some roasted chicken, when he heard a piercing screech that made him walk into the hallway.

Doors flung open and Heath's dog bounded out of the main bedroom towards a room with blazing light under the door; a room that had never been used since his teenage aunt had inhabited it more than twenty years ago.

A dark-haired girl flung open the door and stood on the landing, looking pale and frightened in the half light. Hinton Spencer froze on the spot.

'Who are you?'

'I'm… I'm Katarina Hunt. You must be…'

'Hinton, your cousin by marriage, for all intents and purposes. I was adopted. Are you okay?'

'I don't know… I think I will be. Someone tried to get into my room.'

The boy, mesmerized by her white skin and red lips, stared at her longer than was necessary, then apologized, adding, 'sorry…it's just that you are identical to my…adopted Aunt…' He gestured to Kate's picture on the wall.

'May I?' Hinton said.

'Yes…come in, please.' Kate said with desperation in her voice. Hinton checked the cupboards and behind the curtains, even under the bed.

'There's nothing in here…'

A slight breeze wafted through the room, seemingly from nowhere.

'I…I met your Uncle, um Heath and I wanted to come back to see some old photos and the house my mother grew up in. Then the storm set in so I asked if I could stay the night and…I don't think Heath wanted me to stay and someone tried to get into my room."

Hinton looked around.

'The door was shut when I came up.'

Almost speechless, Katarina whispered, 'not through the door, through the window.'

Hinton wandered past the bed and towards the upstairs bay window. It was unlocked and unopened. He pulled it up. They were on the upper floor. Below, lay a stone pathway. The flower beds were a metre away from the walls and the trees even farther. It would not have been possible for anyone to climb up.

'There is no one there now,' Hinton said. 'Are you sure you didn't have too much to drink?'

'Are you serious? I know what I saw.'

Outside, the wind started to pelt down onto the trees. In the distance, an icy storm began to howl again.

'Tell you what,' Hinton said, smiling, 'Why don't you come into my room? I'll take the floor, of course, and you'll be safe until morning when I drive you home.'

Katarina looked at him hesitantly. This wasn't the cousin she was supposed to meet, though she'd heard about him often enough at Art College. Hinton was known as a real ladies' man, a guy who failed his A-levels and only got into college because of the brilliance of his drawings and a scholarship. Everyone knew his family were loaded. Hinton was a year ahead of her, so they'd seen each other in the halls but never spoken. He'd dated more than his share of girls at the college, and dumped them just as quickly.

Katarina reluctantly dragged her checked blanket off the bed and pulled on her jeans over her underwear as Hinton pretended to look away.

'C'mon, then,' Katarina said, as the storm raged outside.

Hinton couldn't believe his luck. He started walking towards his room when he realised the girl had taken a wrong turn.

'I'm going to sleep in the drawing room,' Katarina said. 'Perhaps, you could come with me?' She was still pretty scared after the earlier incident, though she'd never admit it and Hinton had all but convinced her she was dreaming.

"Mmm, give up my bed for a hard couch?" For a minute she thought he was going to refuse.

'Why not?' he said with his most affable smile. 'We can pretend we're on a camping holiday.' Although her likeness to her mother threw him momentarily, Hinton was beginning to like this new cousin.

Heath was able to sleep through practically anything but lately he'd been woken up at all hours. He'd drunk three glasses of brandy before bed and fallen into an almost trancelike state reading the stock reports and going through some important files in relation to an upcoming merger. He'd been out hunting squirrels and rabbits again. He'd swiftly scaled the outside wall so no one would notice him coming back or leaving. Disgusted, he wiped the blood from his mouth, rinsed and brushed his teeth before bed.

Though he dimly heard the sound of a woman's scream it faded just as quickly and the only change in his vast, kingly bedroom was the blurry sight of his dog's ears standing up. He crawled under his duvet. Heath slept a few hours every night. After his maturity, at twenty-one, he hadn't slept at all. But recently, he'd started falling into a deep slumber in the early hours of the morning. He reached over for his newly prescribed elixir. There were many underground markets now and different products for both vampires and hybrids that hadn't been available to Heath in his youth. After he chugged some Magenta (a new elixir), he fell back into a deep sleep. The dog whimpered and snuggled at his feet like she always did when he woke.

In the dark he heard a woman's voice, clear as glass.

"Heath… Heath…" the girl whispered to him. Then, her hand reached over and shook him awake.

Dark hair fanned across his ear, irritating him and interrupting his dream, which was more than a dream. Heath opened his eyes and saw the perfect brown eyes of another and heard Kate's pleading voice as he reached out to touch her cheek.

'Heath,' the girl said. 'Forgive me for what I did. I've been away for eighteen years. Please come back to me, I have missed you. It's so cold out here…come back to me…come back…Let me in. I've been in the in-between for so long…'

**Chapter Twelve **

_**The Cottage**_

Heath disappeared most evenings at school. Kate knew he went hunting. He'd be back for band rehearsals, he had promised her. He'd been counselled by his doctor. Kate was sure he practised being 'safe', which meant only drinking wild animals and never more than he needed to survive. Magenta, drunk in the interim, ensured he was not tempted by humans; nor would he be, unless his vampiricism developed fully. This was a roll of the dice, according to his specialist. They wouldn't know if he was a full bloodsucker until he reached eighteen. In the meantime, his diet subsisted only of protein, citrus, Magenta and plasma delivered via special order from London once a week. Blood oranges were still his favourites.

Tomorrow night, the inter-school Battle of the Bands competition was to be held as part of the Sixth Form dance. Kate and a few others, including Annabelle Hunt, were factored into the front row as audience members or "fake fans", as Kate joked. Annabelle had made such an effort to be friends with Kate that the girls were now talking and Annabelle had hesitantly been accepted into Kate's circle of popular girls.

Those girls were sitting in the front row. The band hoped they wouldn't be sitting there long. Tonight, they wanted everyone in the room up dancing. Heath would be lying if he said he didn't like the fact that a lot of girls paid him attention. He was tall with dark hair and had a "mysterious" look about him. He'd heard Annabelle giggling and whispering about him to his friends once. He still disliked the Hunts but he enjoyed female attention in all its forms and it didn't pay to display open warfare towards Annabelle's older brother, Edmund. He'd tried that in his first year at boarding school and all his privileges had been withdrawn. He hadn't seen Kate in over a week.

There was only one girl whose opinion truly mattered to him and she sat front row centre as the band played her favourite cover. Afterwards, everyone rushed off to supper but Heath and Kate had plans.

As Heath packed away his guitar, the drummer, who fancied Kate, smiled at her.

'Did you like your song, Kate? We played it especially for you…'

Heath rolled his eyes, jealously.

'I more than enjoyed it,' Kate replied but she was looking straight at Heath when she spoke.

Heath had a good singing voice. He and his band were the coolest – some said most dangerous boys at school – by far. Although Kate was proud of Heath's ability to assimilate, it had begun to annoy her to see other girls paying Heath so much attention and the last thing she wanted to do was let him know how great he was. That would create too much of an ego problem.

'I mean, it was better than okay,' she covered.

'That was your song,' Heath said.

Kate couldn't help but smile. Heath knew what she liked so well.

Heath pretended not to care and smiled at Annabelle Hunt as she gathered her things, much to Kate's annoyance. Heath made sure Kate noticed how much Annabelle Hunt flirted with him. When he became bored with Annabelle's conversation mid-sentence, Heath turned from her and walked over to demand Kate's undivided attention. Kate paused and glanced into Heath's eyes. It was obvious to strangers they had a connection that went beyond words.

When they were alone, Kate tugged at Heath's shirt and gave him the lamb sandwich she'd made in the kitchen especially for him. They were having a roast today at the girl's school and Kate knew it was Heath's favourite. He thanked her, pulled off the lamb, wolfed it down then left the bread. Heath was always starving these days. It was as if none of the food he ate satisfied him.

'C'mon, I also bought us tea…' Kate had her flask and some more lamb and chicken wrapped in a satchel. Heath grimaced, but realised weak tea kept him hydrated. Kate was always trying to look after him, even though they'd be seeing each other less now that they were both studying for half-term finals.

'You really did rock, Heath,' she whispered, looking up at him when she said it. He tried not to beam so hard. He grew happy and less prideful under her gaze but he held back from saying what he wanted to say. Heath wanted to tell Kate Spencer how much he loved her but he couldn't. If he told her, he felt sure that she would torture him, use it against him and tease him more than she usually did. It was in her nature to be both a chameleon and contrite. He wouldn't say the words until he was sure she felt the same.

They agreed to meet at the cottage to study for their exams. They enjoyed meeting up, just to read and talk like they used to when they lived in London.

The cottage was a secret meeting place that had been used for decades by the students from both schools. Built into a stone wall that marked the outside gate of the shared sporting grounds, it could only be reached by running (or walking very quickly) far out of sight across the never ending playing fields and through a kind of dugout that led to an even more lush pasture.

The dwelling had been uninhabited for at least a decade. The hut had been built in the curve. High on the hill, it lay abandoned when no one had bothered to demolish it. Most of the students knew of its existence and it was the "go to" place for midnight feasts… and lover's meetings.

By the time Kate arrived, windswept and dishevelled, Heath had caught her up.

The interior of the cottage had recently been renovated by teenagers. There was evidence of junk food and discarded games, posters tagged on walls, various blankets and duvets rolled into a cupboard, and a well-used fireplace. It was the perfect spot for a winter picnic.

'Reminds me a little bit of Hampstead,' Kate said, looking out the window.

'Scotland reminds me of nothing in the South. It's…lonelier…wilder,' he said, rubbing his mouth when Kate couldn't see. He suddenly needed his incisors filed but he wasn't going to admit it. Only Heath could feel the sharp tips of the teeth inside his mouth, reminding him of his true nature. Kate placed the food on the red checked table cloth over the low coffee table as Heath lit the fire. The boy hungrily demolished the roast chicken from Kate's satchel as the girl looked on in amusement. She spread out the board game on the floor. The pair of them began playing Scrabble in their usual competitive way until Kate, bored with the game, messed up her side with the pieces tumbling across the floor amidst a cloud of laughter.

'This is such a boring game,' she said. 'I've never understood why I can't make up words… '

She leaned over towards him. Heath felt unexpectedly nervous, but tried to act cool.

'What sort of words?'

'Oh, you know. Words they don't teach us at school…' Kate smiled wickedly then changed the subject.

'I am so bored with classes but I can't wait to see your band perform tomorrow night. I miss Hampstead. I miss the glass house where we used to go… to hunt for food…and flowers…'

Kate loved flowers. She'd even given Heath some edible ones once, when he was little, which he'd duly tried to eat. Kate rolled onto her back and stared up at the low beamed roof. Heath looked bashful. The fire flickered, creating artistic shadows of the pair on the inside of the cottage.

'I think we should play a different game…' Kate said.

Heath looked at Kate incredulously, as he turned the page of his History text. He hadn't expected this.

Kate reached over and stroked his hair. He could still feel the touch of her fingers, moments later. Overwhelmed, he took her hand in his and used all of his willpower to stop himself pulling her to him and fanging her. He didn't want to mess things up with Kate before they were ready. Heath ached for her loveliness; she was part of him more than anything or anyone ever could be or would be. When he thought of his biological family, he was dismissive of them. He didn't remember their faces. Besides, they had abandoned him when they discovered he was a bloodsucking freak; just as his friends would probably turn on him, if they knew the truth.

He dropped his pen and changed the subject. 'What…what are your plans for next year?'

Kate laughed… 'Okay, we'll play your way. Let's see, if I wasn't going to be a famous painter, do you know what I'd be?'

'I don't,' Heath replied as she plaited her hair into a braid.

'Well, I love my horse so…I'd be a vet…and save the animals…'

'You'd have to study hard for that,' Heath said sarcastically, glancing back at the words on his page.

'What, don't you think I'm capable?'

Heath knew Kate could do anything she set her mind to, starting with gaining access to the school kitchen when he couldn't, but it wouldn't pay to compliment her right now. She was far more confident than he was.

'It's not that,' he hedged. 'I'm just not sure if you have the dedication,' he replied, turning his head so she couldn't see his smile.

'Oh, you…'

He reached over and caught her hand. Kate looked up at Heath with a devotion she quickly hid with words.

'Let me get closer to the fire. It's freezing in here…' Kate said.

Heath moved closer to her, closer to the flames which were weak, but turned and crackled forming a strong light.

Heath made the first move. He put his hand on Kate's hair and she held his gaze.

'Run away with me Kate.'

Kate laughed.

'When? Where to?'

'When we've finished school, after we turn eighteen. We could go to Prague or Paris or Spain.'

'What with?'

'We'll get jobs…'

'I can't just abandon everything…my family…'

'Apart from your father, they've abandoned us…

Kate considered this for a moment.

'I know. Harrison is…not to be trusted and mother lets him sign everything. He controls all her assets after she and father separated. She even signed half of the house into his name. Mother never did like responsibility.' Kate reached out to Heath and he leant over and kissed her wrist, softly, again.

Kate opened her eyes wide, suddenly seeing the future.

'Yes, let's do it. Let's go to Spain. I'll study art and design, though I once thought Paris might be the place for that. Never mind, I'm sure they have good design schools in Spain and you can…start a band… only we've no money, not a cent. It's just a fantasy, Heath. Ten minutes in another country without a roof over our heads and we'd be fighting all the time. And…'

'What?' He wanted her to say it but she wouldn't.

'…and liking each other less…'

'I could never like you less, Kate. There is no such possibility.'

'Why?'

'Because I love you.'

Kate liked it when he spoke like this, but it worried her. 'I know,' was all she said.

What she should have said, and what she later regretted not saying was that she also loved him. It was obvious. Her journals were testament to this. Each one covering a year in their lives together, written in schoolgirl writing, with train tickets and photographs taken on her polaroid when Heath was least expecting it, pasted into the pages. She kept the most recent one hidden under her bed. Her favourite photograph was one she took of Heath in his navy blue school blazer standing on the playing fields with a bemused look on his face, just as he realised she was the culprit – the school photo journalist.

Kate glanced longingly at Heath after he'd kissed her again. She looked into his perfect eyes and felt the hard cut of his arm muscles. This boy, soon to be a man, was everything to her. He was her whole life, the male version of herself. She knew to be wary, though - family neglect had taught her this; not to let him know her entire being was his to do with as he pleased. Kate sat up and glanced down at her shoe, resolving to change the subject.

Heath loved that about her - the two versions. In this version, Kate had fresh colour rising in her cheeks. He wanted to be closer to her, to touch the vein in her wrist, her neck, to kiss her lips, but he didn't dare move.

'I think you should take your studies more seriously, never mind about me. I could never love a man, who didn't know at least as much as me,' she joked as she packed up the chess pieces.

'Well, then, there are a great many men for you to love,' Heath replied with a raised eyebrow.

'Oh, you…' Kate threw one of the Scrabble pieces his way.

Heath laughed in return, loving that he could get to her so easily.

He had applied to various universities but he wasn't sure what he wanted. Beyond Kate's love, nothing. He'd gone through the motions, telling no one before now that he'd considered applying to Oxford. He'd organised teachers he knew would give him good references and because his marks were flawless, he had a reasonable chance of being accepted. He just had to pass the interviews. He'd studied every evening when he wasn't with Kate, and when he was, he studied late into the night. He wanted to achieve more than anyone he knew. More than anything, he wanted Kate to be proud of him.

They read some more and fell asleep beside the fire. When they woke the next morning, fully clothed, wrapped together under a pile of blankets, it was morning.

'C'mon,' Kate said, dusting off bread crumbs from her skirt, 'we don't want to miss chapel or they will notice and maybe stop me going to the gig tonight. Someone could report us…'

Heath rolled his eyes. 'You mean Hunt.'

'Really, he's not that bad. I think he wants to be your friend. Actually I think Annabelle is quite keen on you. You better be careful, Heath. Those secretive, silent girls are the worst with their little schoolgirl crushes…'

'Is that what you have on me?'

'Silly, I'm not the silent, secretive type,' Kate said.

It wasn't the answer Heath wanted to hear.

'Well, you never had to be.'

Heath turned with the coat and handed Kate her scarf.

'How can you joke like that Kate?'

'What? I'm just kidding.'

'How could you think there is anyone for me apart from you?'

'I…I think you like me too much. It will distract you from getting good marks in your finals.'

'Am I hearing things? Listen to yourself Kate. I don't "like" you too much. There is no "like" here.

Kate looked away, aware of the depth of her feelings for the handsome boy that stood opposite her. Over the past year, he'd grown a head taller than her. She had to look up in the morning half-light to meet his eyes. Again, she looked away.

'Look at me Kate.'

'I know most girls think you're hot.'

'Oh, so you're saying you don't?'

'Those girls don't know you, like I know you,' Kate said slowly. Before Kate was forced to answer, the door blew open as one of the younger students arrived, out of breath. 'Come quick,' he said, '… they're taking the register. They know someone broke into the kitchen last night and stole some chickens and the headmaster is going ballistic.'

Kate giggled while Heath grabbed their coats as they prepared to run. It would be wiser to attend roll call, or else it would be completely obvious they'd been out all night; and then Mr Spencer would be informed, or worse.

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**Linus**_

Katarina woke in the living room but she did not feel refreshed. The girl stepped quietly past her sleeping cousin and headed upstairs to retrieve her shoes. Much to her surprise, a shard of sunlight was shining through the floor length window of the room. The storm had subsided, leaving a wreck of mud and branches across the grounds of the estate. The girl pulled on her jumper and brushed her hair. The ancient brush looked like it had been passed down through many generations of the Spencer family. Katarina discovered some toothpaste in an old-fashioned bathroom. Upon scrutiny of her image in the mirror, she changed her mind and decided to take a shower. Katarina leaned in closely to the mirror, noticing the dark circles under her brown eyes, betraying her lack of sleep.

'Hello, how are you?'

The voice made her jump.

'You might have knocked.'

'Oh, no need to cover up. I've seen it all before,' Linus said breezily. 'I work in a theatre – stage management. You look as if you've seen a ghost.'

'Is that meant to be a joke?'

'Oh, you noticed it too…'

'What?'

'Last night, curtains moving, lights flickering, noises in the dark…' He made a strange horror movie noise and laughed.

'There was a woman…a stranger trying to get into my room…'

'Oh people have been saying stuff like that for years…'

'You're not going to tell me…'

'Oh, I'm here to tell you, it's all true. I'd never bring my friends home. Place is seriously haunted…'

Katarina didn't know if he was joking or not, nor did she know what to say in response to Linus' quick wit and even quicker turn of phrase. She decided she had no choice but to run with it. She smiled - at least it felt safer with another human being in the room.

'But enough of the gloom and doom, I'm interning in a theatre on the West End. I'll get you a ticket to come and see the latest show if you like. It's pretty good. I also organise dance parties on the weekends. Father does not approve, as you can imagine. What about you?'

'I like music and painting. I go to Art College and take photographs.'

'Cool.'

Linus held out his hand to Katarina, and she shook it.

A boy with what could only be described as wild hair and the appearance of an 80's punk, smiled back at her in the mirror. He messed his hair with his hands.

'So, do you like my new look?' Linus asked.

'It's…interesting but I never saw your old one.' Katarina replied.

'You must be Kat, Heath's niece, the one we've never met. I have the illustrious honour of being Heath's son. How is the old man?'

'Well, he's not very…old.'

'No, I know. But I'm guessing he's still pretty grumpy.' He pulled a face. 'I always try to get out of the house early. Father hates the fact that I go off to Brighton with my mates every weekend and can't stand the thought of working in his stuffy financial firm. But he was so young when he had me. Really, his idea of becoming a parent at this point in my life is a bit of a joke… Mind?' Linus took Kat's tube of toothpaste.

'I brought my own toothbrush,' Linus said reassuringly.

Katarina laughed.

'Oh, I'm going to write down my web page. We should stay in touch. Heath is sure to lose it at some point this morning, or he might already be out with the horses. In any case, you're going to want to run away from this house and never return…just like all the women in this family do.'

'Surely, they didn't all run away. Not all of them.'

'Yes, all of them,' the boy said regretfully.

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.'

Linus quickly changed the subject.

'Get dressed. We're meeting Hinton for breakfast; he likes to sketch in the cafe. Sometimes I think he's aiming to draw every nook and cranny in Hampstead. He and I don't really get on. So, it'll be quite funny to turn up at his favourite breakfast hangout with you in tow. He takes all his notes and paper to draw people there. He's obsessed with capturing their images. I'm sure I can't see any point in that…' Linus said breezily.

Linus talked on and it was hard not to like him, with his easy way and humorous take on the world.

Greta called upstairs, 'and what would you both like for breakfast?'

'Nothing darling,' Linus said theatrically. 'I'm taking my cousin out. You're welcome to join us,' he added.

'No Linus, I only popped in to drop off the groceries,' Greta said warily.

'Bring you back one of those lovely frosted buns from the French bakery for morning tea, then, eh?' Linus said, dragging Katarina down the stairs with him.

'Oh, have you said goodbye to your father?'

'Goodbye? We haven't said good morning. He's out with the horses. Tell him I'll see him tonight.'

Greta rolled her eyes.

'And with a bit of luck,' Linus said under his breath, 'he'll be asleep by nine pm.'

Katarina laughed.

'He was…quite the gentleman around me.'

'Oh, that's just because you don't know him, yet.'

'I get the feeling our families never wanted us to meet,' Katarina said as they walked down the sunny driveway, slippery from last night's hail storm.

'Here, take these.'

Linus handed Katarina a pair of gumboots. They both carried their shoes in their hands.

'The calm after the storm. C'mon, I know a shortcut,' Linus said enthusiastically.

'Near my house?'

'Something like that,' the boy said as they walked through the sunken garden, across the heath, towards The Grange and past the private, hidden glass conservatory that was tucked behind the Summer House.

'My father used to come here… with your mother, when they were children.'

'I know,' Katarina said. 'I'm reading her journal. I found it under the bed last night.'

Linus looked shocked. 'Oh, that must be another one,' he said, reaching for the diary.

'Not until I've read this one,' Katarina replied. 'I'm only on page eighteen…but sometimes I think this is the place she was happiest.'

Her cousin shrugged. 'Just up ahead, past the conservatory on our left, past the fancy house on the corner, is our café.'

Linus took Katarina's arm and she suddenly felt adopted by her cousin, like a new best friend.

Linus pulled a face as they removed their muddy boots at the door of the café and replaced them with their own shoes. 'There he is, sitting all sullen in the corner table. And in about ten seconds, Hinton will… look up.' As if on cue, that's what happened. Linus and Katarina laughed. Hinton didn't smile. He scowled and hastily gathered his sketches.

Hinton was just as unwelcoming and monosyllabic when they sat at the table with him. He'd already eaten a plate of bacon which Katarina thought was really unhealthy. Katarina ordered tea and poached eggs with toast and Linus ordered muesli with strawberries and yoghurt. A jug of blood orange juice was placed on the table and Hinton guzzled two glasses. He then proceeded to wolf down a second breakfast of eggs (he left the toast on the side) as he sketched the interior of the café, practically ignoring Linus and Katarina, who couldn't get over the difference in his personality from the previous night.

As he looked up briefly from his sketches, Hinton barely nodded. Nevertheless, Katarina, was in her element, surrounded by new family. Her two cousins seemed to be far more interested in themselves and their plans that her, but Katarina didn't mind. Hinton had an exhibition to prepare and Linus started chatting about the play he was stage managing. When the sun shone through the window, Hinton shifted from the direct light and began to get restless as he shuffled his papers. Katarina was keen to get back to her mother's diary, but was wary of appearing (unlike her cousins) rude. Besides, it felt nice to be amongst what were for all intents and purposes, her family.

As they finished their breakfasts and she read the paper, Katarina noticed Hinton peering at the words on her page. She looked up and sounded out the word, incandescent. Hinton looked away.

'Do you wear glasses, Hinton?'

'No,' Hinton replied taking offence through a mouthful of bacon. He chugged down the rest of his orange juice then began gulping his coffee. His hunger seemed to have no end.

'Oh, don't mind him Katarina. Hinton always wolfs down his food, don't you Hinton?' Linus said with a mocking smile.

Hinton raised an eyebrow, apparently used to his cousin's humour. Meanwhile it was obvious Hinton had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or couch as was the case the previous night. Katarina tried to make small talk but Hinton stopped drawing, folded his sketches and announced quietly that he had to go to college to work on his portfolio.

Katarina wanted to say, 'I'll come with you,' because she had planned to do the same, but she felt she didn't really know him well enough (except by reputation). From the way he was behaving it appeared he would not want her to accompany him. Hinton got up so quickly, he even left the scarf he was wearing, (her scarf, strangely enough), by her seat. He didn't want to give her an excuse to return to Hareton Hall.

After he left, Linus stirred his coffee as he spoke. "Oh, never mind him, Katarina. He's always more sociable in the evenings. Take no notice. I'm glad we met. Besides, it's obvious he likes you. I would too if we weren't related…' Linus smiled dramatically.

'Well, I suppose I should also be going…'

"Nonsense, you're coming with me to Portobello Road to buy new outfits before I go to my rehearsal. Then we're off to Camden town tomorrow and tomorrow night, in honour of having found you again, we're going to cook a feast and have some friends over for dinner. I have it on good authority that father will be out.'

Linus opened up the newspaper and sure enough, inside the lift out, there was a picture of Heath, in a dinner suit standing with his most recent girlfriend. She was also a company director and the daughter of a media mogul. Heath was announcing a charity ball that would be sponsored by the family company, _Heath & Sons,_ that evening.

'Mmm… sons,' Linus mused, 'how optimistic. I think that means me… and Hinton, though I don't think we were quite what father was expecting.'

Linus leaned in close 'You know Hinton can barely read, don't you? That's probably why he left suddenly.'

Katarina looked surprised. 'What? I thought there might be something wrong with his eyesight…'

'Oh, he sees clear as day; he can practically see in the dark. It's just that father was… well, he raised him to ride and take care of the animals. He was home schooled by Greta when we realised everyone was just going to make fun of him at regular school. It was terrible. Keep this to yourself. Father hates it when I talk about the family publicly but there's always been a lot of tension between us,' Linus stated matter-of-factly. 'I mean, he's not exactly thrilled with my choice of…career but at least I'm literate.'

Linus went beyond the insinuation that Hinton was not. 'Oh, he's clever. It's just that he has dyslexia and never really had it diagnosed properly and now… he's too embarrassed to ask for lessons.'

'Well, I was good at English at school. Maybe I could help him. He seems so clever. It's hard to believe he can't read…' Katarina said.

'Maybe. Hinton's unsociable. I've tried and he won't talk to me. We just don't really like each other, I suppose. I mean, we're not blood relations but we were raised together. Sometimes it's just the way things are…'

Katarina resolved in some way to help her adopted cousin as she sipped her tea, constantly entertained by quips from Linus.

When the waiter came and Linus, ever the gentleman, reached for the bill, Katarina couldn't resist.

'By the way, last night, I saw something… well, someone. It was a person, I'm sure of it. A woman tried to get into the room as I slept. I didn't see her face clearly in the dark but…'

'Is that why you screamed?'

'Yes… '

'Perhaps it was a nightmare. Being too much in father's company will do that to a person.' Linus replied, always the joker.

'No… I mean… a woman… I didn't see her face. I saw her hand reach through the window. It was so real, I could almost touch her fingers…'

Linus shivered. He let the silence hang between them for a moment until he spoke…

'It's her again.'

'Who?'

'C'mon, we'll talk outside.'

Linus offered to pay the bill and they walked out towards the tube station on Hampstead High Street.

'I'm not sure it's really my place to say and I'm not exactly sure what you saw but…' Linus glanced over at his cousin with a serious expression on his face…

'Go on…'

'Well, Father should have warned you… but it looks like it's up to me, as usual. Hareton Hall is a freak show.'

Katarina just looked at her cousin; she didn't know what to say. Of course, she hadn't believed in haunted houses before. But then, she had never confronted the possibility of their existence until last night. She suspected some more answers might be locked inside the cover of the diary she now kept. They changed trains. The underground was semi-empty this morning. When the tube stopped at Notting Hill, they walked to Linus' car. He'd parked it outside the station when he couldn't drive home the previous night.

'Jump in, we'll go to the markets then I'll drop you home. Oh, I almost forgot, there's an old school yearbook with empty pages at the back that your mother wrote in extensively. I'd been putting my stuff in storage, preparing to move into a flat in Bayswater but I took this by mistake from the wardrobe. I was going to put it back but I think you might like it. It's in the back seat. I found it a while ago and kept it, so it wouldn't be amongst the things you already have. You could add it to your… investigation. I was never terribly interested, to be honest, so I didn't bother reading it. I just flicked through the photos. Oh, but I wouldn't tell father. He's very secretive about that part of his life, the part he spent with… your mother.'

He reached in and handed Katarina the package.

Katarina took the album possessively and opened a page that contained letters stuck into opened envelopes. They were undated and the post stamp was unclear. Kate's childish handwriting but sophisticated language described a pre-holiday dance where Heath's band was due to perform. _I'm so excited for The Battle of the Bands, _was a sentence that stood out. Her mother had even stuck a small piece of the pink voile from her dress on the page as a keepsake. Katarina ran her fingers over the material. After the first ten pages, which were obviously written by her mother, there was another letter signed by Heath.

'Does your father know we have this?'

'I doubt it,' Linus said. 'All of this was so long ago. Most of it is undated but they must have been written over twenty years ago - way back in the nineties. Anyway, father has no idea what is in every nook and cranny of the house. Probably forgot he ever wrote this stuff. It's bizarre to read. Your mother must've stuck the letters in there. Hard to believe people actually _wrote_ letters back then…' Her cousin trailed off.

Katarina, finding them impossible to resist, stuffed the notes in her bag.

As Linus turned on the ignition, Katarina suddenly wished she was alone at The Grange to ponder her mother's words in detail.

**Chapter Fourteen **

_**Letters **_

_From Kate to Heath _

_Dearest Heath_

_It's the night after the dance and I've been told to pack and be ready to leave in an hour. No one will tell me why I'm wanted at The Hall. It may be something to do with Harrison. No one can find you. I think you must be out hunting. Father insists I am to return home on the next train. My bags are packed and I'm writing this to you in case you don't arrive in time to catch the train with me. I want you to know what I have never told you enough - how much I love you. I am leaving this under your door to read when you return. _

_I keep thinking of the events that led to me being separated from you and wanted to clear up the misunderstanding that occurred… I'm going back to the beginning…_

_Annabelle stopped by (such a swat) on her way from the school library, to show me her dress. Don't ask me how we've become friends but I suppose that's what you could call us, until tonight. Anyway, I'd been trying to get her to wear contacts for ages, and finally she'd agreed. It was like a new person greeted me at the door._

'_Kate, you look beautiful,' she said. I felt it was my turn to repay her compliment._

_We sat together at my dresser, me in my pink satin slip, bought especially to go with my dress for the occasion (I can't believe I'm writing this down!) to impress you later as we planned! Annabelle had draped my dressing gown over her clothes and was trying on my slippers. We painted our nails to match our dresses. Afterwards, I did Annabelle's makeup. I was quite thrilled to have made Belle my personal project as I felt her transformation on the surface would lead to a more profound transformation of her personality._

_I was so excited to see your band play in front of a real audience for the first time. I knew you'd rock the place out; you're so hot and talented, how could you be anything but amazing? And you were amazing, Heath. Don't ever let anyone make you feel different, just because you are. _

_When Annabelle emerged from my bathroom transformed in a cream and silver tasselled dress, I was surprised. Then I complimented my new friend._

'_Wow,' I said, 'you look completely amazing!'_

'_Do you think so? Do you think anyone will notice?'_

_By "anyone" I was pretty sure she meant you and I ignored the insinuation. _

'_Of course, you look beautiful Annabelle,' I said, and meant it._

_Annabelle smiled. She said she knew her pale, icy prettiness wouldn't last. 'I have a slim figure but I know I lack the… specialness that would make a boy like Heath, for example, sit up and take notice.'_

_I knew she wanted me to disagree, but I could never just let her think you were hers for the taking. Instead, I told her any guy would be lucky to have her. And I believed it, (unless that guy was you, of course). Annabelle was, or rather is, perfect girlfriend material, more perfect than me. She's perfectly boring, perfectly spoken and perfectly nice. How could you not like her Heath? Tell me what I saw never happened! Do you remember how much we hated the Hunts as children? How we used to laugh at them?_

_Of course, Edmund has always disliked you because you were braver than him – or so I thought. He called you "rough" but I know Annabelle secretly had a crush on you from the time we all met up at Hareton Hall during summer holidays and I put on a fashion show. Remember? _

_The fashion show began and ended with me showing off my new sports uniform. All of our school friends came and it was my idea to donate the door money to charity! Annabelle was invited to model also, but I went first. Edmund and Annabelle took their seats, open mouthed, on the floor. I'd set up the old ballroom like a theatre and forced you to grudgingly hold the curtains and shine the spotlight. You studied our neighbouring friends without hiding your irritation. You still hadn't forgiven their father for accusing you of harming their dog when we were small, and I don't blame you. You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but inside The Hall that day but this was a chance to "let bygones be bygones," as Greta once said._

'_May I take your coat, Annabelle?' I remember Greta asking. _

'_Yes, thank you very much,' the girl with milk skin answered. You must have found her vaguely pretty, I'm sure, even though you barely showed her any attention when she modelled and clapped loudly when I did. If both she and her brother hadn't irritated us so much with their bland, insipid privilege, perhaps we would all have been friends, earlier. But we always preferred being outside when we were children, didn't we? Playing on Hampstead Heath in the wind, remember?_

_Anyway, earlier tonight Annabelle continued to blabber on as we got ready. _

'_I honestly think Heath is the most handsome boy I've ever met.'_

_I couldn't disagree. I sometimes wonder if Annabelle's plan to befriend me had something to do with wanting to be near you. She stood up and hovered at the entrance to my room when she was nearly ready as if she wanted to share more unasked for information. _

_I turned around from my dressing table._

'_You look like… a princess,' she gasped. It was her turn to flatter me. Annabelle was still gawping at my darkly made up eyes, long gloves, low-cut dress and glitter eye shadow. 'Although I'm not sure the school…' _

'_Oh, I couldn't care less if I get a stupid demerit for wearing a revealing outfit…' I said. 'Don't look so shocked, Annabelle. Come over here and help me tease my hair. It is a 1960's theme after all!'_

'_You look…amazing,' she said as I applied my pale, pink lipstick. _

_It was eight in the evening and the Battle of the Bands Dance had been going for at least half an hour when we arrived. We stood at the top of the stairs surveying the scene we helped create, glitter ball and all. It was spectacular. I knew you were on last and your band was the only one I wanted to cheer for Heath. I thought the school hall, lit up with disco lights, looked amazing, didn't you? I took Annabelle's cream gloved hand in my pink gloved one as we casually walked down the staircase towards the cloak room and saw the whole school lit up with a banner that read Sixth Form Dance._

_When your band played, you guys were awesome. We clapped wildly so you would hear us but you looked straight past me and smiled at Annabelle! She smiled back! I happen to know you'd barely said more than two words to her in all your life, yet she was convinced you were in love with her after that. How could this be so, Heath? I am sorry for doubting you but as her obsession seemed to know no limits. I couldn't help but wonder if you had ever done anything at all to encourage her. _

_The lights were lowered as the heating and the energy in the room warmed and I noticed you pour something from a flask into your water bottle. I think, maybe, you had forgotten your Magenta. You looked hungry. _

_The band started playing again and you were amazing as I always knew you would be. Annabelle's face lit up and I would have started laughing if it wasn't so annoying. I suppose I just decided to fight fire with fire. _

_Soon I was surrounded by a group of boys and some of them started dancing and thrashing to the music and I was caught up in the throng of activity. Food was passed around, teachers stood back and hovered, talking amongst themselves, finally letting everyone dance without bothering to interrupt. _

_The set stopped and afterwards, I saw you attempt to move towards me as Annabelle headed in the opposite direction. You didn't push past her as I expected you to and I refused to show anyone I'd noticed. You looked embarrassed when she clutched your arm and told you how great you were but perhaps you had matured too much to be openly rude as you once might have been. I could barely hear your voices above the dance music but the conversation went something like this: _

'_Hi. The band was amazing,' Annabelle said. _

_You were flattered. I could tell by the careful way you smiled and said, 'Thanks Annabelle.' _

'_It reminds me of the music we played when Kate and I used to make up dances and modelling shows… remember when we lived next door to each other.'_

_How interesting, I thought, when Annabelle knew the dances and fashion shows were entirely directed by me._

'_Of course,' you said, 'how could I forget? You were always so creative,' I could not believe what I was hearing. I also couldn't believe any girl could be quite so…obvious or that you could flatter her so easily. You started packing your guitar in its case and you didn't even give me a second glance. _

_I admit I was occupied with a group of friends by this point but that was because I was so annoyed that you had all but ignored me. How could you, Heath? Finally, you glanced over at me but I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of realising that I'd noticed. I realise now, you were mad at me for not telling you I loved you in return in the cottage the day before. But did you have to pay me back by flirting with Annabelle? It worked. _

_In fact, I barely gave a second to look in your direction. The look on your face said it all. I admit, I was wondering if you were having second thoughts about us. It is true that you are from another world but that is not why I love you, I know that. I know that you would love me even if we'd been brought up together on the street. Games are for other people, Heath, not us. _

_You only have to be yourself with me and I love you completely, for that alone. You once told me you could do anything you wanted, be anyone you wanted and so could I. I am so much like you; I am you. You left too early from the dance, if you heard my reply to Edmund's question but not my true answer. Please come back to me. Save me from whatever fate has in store for me without you. If you are reading this, I am on the train alone and you did not return in time to come with me. I shall wait for you at Hareton Hall…almost as if, although separate, we are one. _

_I love you more than words can ever say._

_Yours forever,_

_Kate _

_The second letter was in Heath's handwriting, dated that night:_

_Dearest Kate_

_Love and loyalty forever, without one the other doesn't exist! How could you imagine otherwise? I have not stopped thinking about you since we parted tonight and I'm writing this now, to give to you in the morning since the house mistress said you could not see me tonight. I walked over to the girls' school to find you but the teachers wouldn't tell me where you had gone. Someone said you had been taken back to London and that because no one could locate me, I am to leave on the morning train. They won't tell me why either, just that I am wanted at home. _

_I feel the need to set things straight between us, since this is our first quarrel and I could not go to sleep angry – or go to sleep at all knowing you are on your way to Hareton Hall without me. I shall give this to you when I see you since it will be easier than spoken words. _

_I hope father is okay. You know I love him as if he were my own, and I have a strange feeling something is up from the way the school counsellor has been speaking to me with added empathy. No one will tell me anything. _

_I hope you at least decide to open this because I know you were angry with me last night. In light of what has happened, our quarrel seems pointless, so please, when you receive this, don't just throw it out the window. You know I never write letters, never, but I am making the exception for you, because you are special Kate and always will be, because I love you forever and you know I always will._

_I'm going to start at the beginning and I'm warning you, this letter is going to be more than a few pages long…_

_Okay, it's true that I was deeply embarrassed by Annabelle being "all over me" as you put it. In my defence, it was past eight and I hadn't been able to get to my supplies and I felt strangely weakened, my desire for blood stronger than ever. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but it is the truth. I won't go on about it but I was feeling less than my best which may have added to the perception that I was ignoring you. Remember Kate, it is hard to be the one saying "I love you," and not hearing those words in return. _

_As for the Band Battle, I think we were attracting a few fans (this bit is supposed to make you laugh!) but I admit Annabelle was very obvious tonight. Even our drummer noticed her behaviour. She credited you with her makeover! Perhaps you should have given her a make-under - just kidding. Yes, I smiled back at her as I glanced around the room, waiting for YOU who seemed to be ignoring me! We had agreed to meet outside after the set had finished, to continue the party…elsewhere. But the scout from London was here and the band wanted me to put in an appearance. After he left, Mr Jones was on the war path trying to round up the boys who spiked the punch …guess who? Annabelle was a decoy, someone to hide behind. I am ashamed to say that is why I went outside with her and this is what happened next…_

_Annabelle sipped her drink and tried to make conversation, thrilling lines such as:_

'_Do you have plans, Heath, for when school ends?'_

_I replied, 'yes,' wondering how long before it would be safe to go inside._

'_I don't… not really. Father wants me to apply for university. I thought I might like to go to Art College in London instead.'_

_I nodded, still waiting for you, feigning interest in her vapid conversation. I glanced through the glass doors and saw you and the moronic Edmund Hunt, dancing. Great choice if you wanted to make me jealous Kate, it worked._

_Annabelle looked up and said, 'My brother seems to have taken a shine to…your sister.'_

_I gulped my drink as one of the band made a secretive gesture in his direction indicating more alcohol would be forthcoming. _

'_She's… not my sister,' I said quickly (because you aren't!)_

'_No… I'm sorry, of course not, but you were raised together…' Annabelle added, more annoyingly than ever. _

'_Only until we came here…almost six years ago now,' I replied, setting the record straight. _

_Annabelle then changed the subject._

'_I thought I'd hate it here but sometimes I prefer the school to home. I like having friends of my own.'_

_(I'm not sure what you said to her that afternoon, Kate, but she was under the impression you were her new best friend!)_

_I admit, it's true, this next part makes me seem inconsiderate but I was bored by her conversation and looked around the room. I became even more annoyed by your flirty behaviour with rich boy Edmund. Annabelle was all…wobbly by then. I think she'd been drinking too much punch even though it was never designed for her! She kept putting her hand on my shoulder to steady herself and at one point I returned the gesture to hold her up!_

_I looked across the room and there you were, beautiful in your pink dress, glaring at me. You turned your head (to listen to Edmund's scintillating conversation, no doubt). _

_Annabelle said, 'Oh look, Kate's dress fans out in waves across the floor, in waves at her feet like the ocean…'_

_And at that moment, that's exactly where I wanted to be with you. As far away from that school and our families and all the people who ever knew us, because I only want you, Kate, forever. _

_Then, the music reached a fever pitch and Annabelle was jumping up and down and you were in the middle of the group and I was watching you and then you…fell down._

'_Oh,' Annabelle said, suddenly still, 'I hope Kate's okay.'_

_I moved towards you but Edmund Hunt got there first. _

_Annabelle looked at me all gaga by then. It's true that I glanced at her, but more like she was a consolation prize! This was just as you turned heads paying Edmund your undivided attention! (One of my teammates once walked in on the pair of them – brother and sister – trying to teach each other to dance in the student common room!) Honestly, Kate, we should never let either of them get between us. They are not worth it! (Jealous? Yes, at least I admit it!) I turned away as Edmund was helping you up. _

'_Do you want to go outside?' Annabelle asked me, unexpectedly. _

_What was I supposed to say? I suppose I could have declined and stormed off like a girl but I wanted to make you pay. I'm sorry, I know that love is patient and kind; I know that is what we are taught but you and I are different. Words are not enough. I just want to be with you…impatiently, all the time. And sometimes I want to suck the vein in your wrist but I hold back because I'm trying to be better than that for you Kate, I'm trying not to have to be what I was born to be. You make me try to be a better man. Tonight I was less than my best, I know…_

_The balcony was divided into sections for groups to talk and socialize. _

_I made sure rich boy saw me as you told Edmund you were okay while he helped you outside. I wanted to make you jealous so I put my arm around Annabelle then released her moments later. _

'_Wait here,' I told Annabelle, 'I'm going to get you some water. I'll be back in a moment.' That's when I heard you. Rich boy spoke first._

'_Are you sure you're okay?'_

'_Ah, I think it might be some kind of… minor sprain,' you said. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to… ?'_

'_No, I like the fresh air.'_

_I could hear your words clearly Kate as I went to get Annabelle's drink. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to your room? Or would you like me to get…your friend, the one you're always hanging out with,' Edmund said jealously I might add. _

'_That is not necessary, I do some things by myself you know… and we are not always together.' I could hear those words Kate! You spoke them!_

'_Well, certainly, people don't see you together but I've heard…' he went on._

'_Perhaps you listen to too much student gossip…' you sounded mortified that people might guess we were together!_

'_No…not at all,' Edmund said, 'I just thought you were with…'_

_I was standing outside the balcony tent by then, hidden from view, but once I heard the topic of conversation I couldn't resist pausing. Trust is fragile Kate! You need to explain the rest to me because I never stop loving you no matter what you do…you added these words: _

'_There is nothing to think… I'm my own person. I'm not with…anyone. I don't have a boyfriend…'_

_I admit I freaked out standing there in the shadows like a stranger to your life. Hadn't we just spent the morning together? Hadn't we been closer to each other than anyone else in this life? I wanted to teach you a lesson for being disloyal, so I stormed off through the crowd._

_By now you must know, Annabelle means nothing to me, nothing. YOU ARE MY LIFE KATE SPENCER._

_Later_

_Then I woke up this morning to hear your father had died suddenly. I am on the morning train to London, drinking my supply. Honestly, I feel completely lost and only want to see your face again. Our petty argument seems just that. He was the only father I ever knew, too, Kate. I never met a kinder more sincere man in my life. I'm so sorry, Kate. _

_I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER. _

_I will be at Hareton Hall as soon as possible _

_Hxxxxxxxxxxxx. (and here the page was smothered in at least a dozen kisses and hugs and what looked like the smudge of tears…) _

I read over the childish letters in the dark. It seemed plausible that Kate and Heath were separated as part of a plan Harrison was forming.

Soon after, Kate was sent to Finishing School in Switzerland, where she stayed for three months until her eighteenth birthday. Both sets of school fees were cancelled and Heath was thrown out of the house, onto the street, his inheritance "absorbed" in the family trust and expenditure – justified by Harrison's appointment as the executor of the family estate. Neither of the younger Spencers appears to have completed secondary school in Scotland. A final letter from Kate (written in Switzerland) filled me in on some of the missing details.

_Dear Heath _

_By now you will know where I am and why and I wait patiently to join you. _

_How typical of Harrison to have tricked the school into separating us, and how alone and terrible I feel without you now. I wait for you and please know everything that happened at the dance is ancient history; it all means nothing in light of recent events. I still cannot believe father is gone. _

_Greta is taking this with her and has promised to give it only to you. Harrison, as you know, confined me to my room before I was packed off to Switzerland. He locked the door and barred the window after he dragged me from your path and would not let me leave this room. He says my place is with my family and not with "a freak". But you are my family Heath, and if that makes us freaks together, so be it. We will meet as planned and Harrison will never separate us again. _

_You won't believe what he has done! His new girlfriend, Frances (we call her Franny and so far she is a good natured sort of person, trying to bring me food and drink when Harrison is not about) is soon to be his wife! The little boy (a mere toddler) is her brother. His name is Hinton. They allowed him into my room to give me company before I was packed off to Finishing School. How kind of them. He too is a good natured little boy, with a face like a cherub. He likes to play with his toys and offers them to me to "make me better". I hate to imagine how Harrison's influence could change him since he is such a sweet child. I have tried to warn Frances but she is so "in love" she refuses to listen, and so far, Harrison has only presented his nicer side. He insists I am in my room for my own good and I barely have the energy to resist any more. With you gone, I have nowhere to turn. I have enclosed half the money we saved together in my piggy bank as children. I'd hidden it and you will need it more than me. Please don't send it back! _

_This will be shorter than the last letter. I just want to clear up what happened at the stupid Battle of the Bands and we can talk when I finally see you. Greta has promised to send you the details and I know you will contact her; I just know it. _

_Our school days seem pretty aimless in light of what has happened. Father died in my arms just before you arrived home. It was horrible, Heath. I miss him so much. I think he was our only ally. _

_Back to our stupid misunderstanding; I know my thoughtless behaviour hurt you more than any beating or withdrawal of privileges we ever received from Harrison, just as yours did me; so not worth it. I love you, too, more than anything or anyone else. You should know, before we make plans, that this is what happened after you left the ball room that night. _

_I told Edmund that I couldn't ever go out with him. He asked me if I was "attached" to anyone (which I found old fashioned and funny although I hardly imagine myself laughing ever again right now.)_

'_I can't go out with you, Edmund,' I said._

'_But, you just told me you are not attached to anyone,' he replied._

_**That's because I'm… more than attached**__. Those were my exact words, but you didn't stay in the room long enough to hear them. _

_I added, 'It is true that you don't see Heath and I together… in public or at school much but… we are more__** than attached**__. We are together in secret. We plan to move to London next year but of course my older brother would never approve so we just keep it to ourselves. It is true we are young but we are like, __**the same person. **__I could never imagine being without Heath.' And blah blah blah I went on, embarrassed to be relaying those words now, but they are TRUE. _

'_I see,' Edmund replied. Pale and dorky though he is; I think he meant us both well. 'I knew you were close… Anyway, I'm going up to Cambridge next year….' And after I had assured him there was no hope we would ever be more than friends, Edmund looked away, hurt. So please don't hate him for liking me because I think he is actually a good person. He seemed to understand and asked if we could remain friends. I didn't know what else to say so I said "yes", but truly, it all meant nothing. I tried to get up but the pain in my ankle made me hesitate. I looked for you but you were NOWHERE. That night I dreamt that we were parted and I begged you to come back to me. _

_Tell me this isn't true! _

_COME BACK TO ME NOW HEATH. I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER AND EVER._

_Love Kate (sealed with a thousand kisses)_

**Chapter Fifteen**

_**Shadows **_

And here I sat, the daughter of such a woman. I was quite surprised, I admit, at the evident depth of affection between her and Heath and quite annoyed at how meanly Heath had spoken of my loyal, kind and loving father. It was hard to get over the disloyalty in my mother's letters, but I tried to justify my reading of them in the name of "research".

Greta walked into the kitchen light and she relayed to me the story of Kate and Heath's parting. As we sipped tea and I waited for my cousin Hinton to emerge so we could go and work at the studio like we planned.

This is what Greta told me:

'When Heath arrived home he was ignored by Harrison who had brought his new girlfriend with him. Heath was just counting down the days until he and Kate could go back to school. Harrison had other plans. He'd withdrawn the fees for both children for their final semester of school. They had no say in the matter.

Heath couldn't have cared less about boarding without Kate close by and Kate had never been academic. When we arrived back at The Hall, Heath discovered Kate in a heap, on the couch, crying over her father's old photographs. When I went in to take them some tea, they were huddled together so close; I thought no one would ever tear them apart. Heath was also distraught. Your grandfather had been the only adult (apart from me) to love him and take care of him.

When the news had arrived, the worst, Kate and Heath were left alone. Heath hugged Kate in the child's playroom while she wept and he unsuccessfully tried to hold back tears for the only man who had ever been a parent to him.

After, we all sat in the old playroom as the news from a television blared on in the background giving us all a good excuse not to talk. Repeat images of political unrest in other parts of the world were on replay in a documentary. It was an irony not lost on any of us, for it was obvious, our world within Hareton Hall was crumbling.

I agreed to stay on to try to protect the youngster Hinton and Harrison was seemingly civil to Kate throughout that week. He had more important plans to occupy his mind. We were stunned to discover he intended to install his new girlfriend Frances, as his wife, (they married at a registry office the following Saturday).

At first, Franny was warm towards Kate and barely civil to Heath, (taking her cue from Harrison). Once she'd married Harrison, she lost interest in everyone else in the house, including her younger brother, and took to going on long walks across the heath. Hareton Hall has that strange effect on people or maybe it was the revelation that her new husband wasn't all he seemed. Sometimes I'd hear him yelling at her in the night and would place my hands over young Hinton's ears. I thought it a blessing that Kate was to be sent away but it was mean of Harrison to cancel their fees for the final term.

Kate's older brother had made plans to conquer and divide the two younger "shareholders" as he thought of them. He'd never really been able to control Kate. Although there had been a vast inheritance left to both the younger Spencers, Harrison made sure that Heath's share was written off to various expenses. Heath and Kate were still minors, after all. The shares that remained were left to be invested in the family trust and managed by Harrison on behalf of the two teenagers.

Harrison insisted that Heath make his room in the basement and groom the horses every morning. Heath did so, happily in fact, preferring to be outside rather than anywhere near Harrison. I asked when Heath would be enrolled back in school but Harrison seemed to think that was nothing to be concerned about. I feared the worst; that he intended to throw Heath on the street the moment he turned eighteen the following week.

Both Heath and Kate were not unaware of the plot against them as they took the horses to be exercised on the heath that last cold, autumn day when Heath was still in my care. Kate was in a near dreamlike state with her grief having marked a serious return to study as nearly pointless. 'After all, how many artists need an academic education, Greta?' she asked me. Really, Kate was delusional.

Instinctively, Heath, who had never trusted Harrison, knew there would be changes at Hareton Hall and he suspected his plans for university would be delayed in some way without access to the necessary funds. He needed money to hire a lawyer and by the time he had that he knew the funds would be siphoned off. He just hung on, taking his medication as scheduled, accessing his secret supplies to normalize his blood, and all the time wanting to rip Harrison to shreds. He hung on for Kate, waiting for her to turn eighteen so they could run away and never be under the control of Harrison again. If they ran off too soon, Harrison would inform the authorities that he suspected Heath was a vampire. Though not illegal, it would officially be a mark against him for life. There was so much discrimination. For example, vampires had to get permission to hold certain jobs and human-vampire marriage was discouraged.

Meanwhile, Harrison had cancelled the cheques Heath had sent to apply for university and it was too late for him to enrol to finish the school term at the local comprehensive. A scholarship was out of the question until the following year. Heath turned eighteen in a matter of days and Harrison would no longer be his court appointed guardian. Kate and Heath tried not to think about the family tensions as they rode together that day.

Kate had started eating again, having lost her appetite for a week and I had wisely packed the picnic basket with a lunch of their favourite things. Kate had put in a bottle of apple cider for after and her favourite mohair red checked blanket. Harrison was busy planning his next party for his new wife and to impress future investors in the various businesses he had purchased. He'd also taken to drinking in the afternoons (not a good sign). Kate's older brother was only too happy not to be bothered with the younger members of the household as long as they were out of his sight.

Hampstead Heath was dotted with people on that autumnal Saturday; mother's pushing babies in prams, small children running and playing games with kites, picnicking groups. These appeared to be fully functioning families, Kate was thinking, unlike hers. The pergola offered beautiful views across Hampstead and there were artists sketching near The Hill Garden as Kate and Heath strolled. They walked with their horses for about thirty minutes to reach the hidden garden and Glass House. Near the fish pond at the far end of a small alcove, there was a lovers' bench with panoramic views of North London.

They placed a blanket on the ground after they'd found water for the animals. Kate placed the food in the centre, while they talked and enjoyed the spread of chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, tea and crusty French bread that lay before them. Well, Kate did. Heath only ate the chicken – all of it. It was to be their last carefree day. As if to recognize that fact the sun hid in shadows behind the clouds as they talked, finally spitting down in tiny drops of rain. They had to quickly pack up all their belongings and head for the hidden, glass arboretum. As children, escorted to a night fair, they had once seen the stars in the evening sky from the same spot.

'Do you forgive me for what I said, the night of the dance?' Kate asked. 'You should have stayed to hear the rest.'

'Of course, Kate, tell me again,' Heath said as he brushed her hair with his fingers.

'Well,' Kate said, sitting up. 'I added, after you left, that actually, you are rather…strange looking and maybe not quite my type…'

Heath laughed, looked irritated, then despondent but as he got up Kate pleaded with him, 'I'm joking. Look, I found our initials that we marked into the tree when we were children. Here they are, bigger than before, clear as if they were carved yesterday.'

Sure enough, the initials of the pair were hidden at the base of the tree in a place only they knew to look. The letters were a legacy of their youth.

'You see, I knew even then. There is no one else for me and it is true. In this world or any other, I have known we were meant for each other, forever.'

Kate placed her finger to his lips.

'We don't know what will happen, yet. We'll find out tomorrow.'

Tomorrow was Heath's eighteenth birthday. Kate's was three months later. After that, they planned to run away together and get married. They thought by making it all official, it would be difficult for Harrison to separate them. As the rain spat down upon the glass roof, Heath leant over the seat they shared and kissed Kate, pulling her closer.

'Kate Spencer, will you marry me?'

'Yes,' she said, confidently, after they kissed.

'I don't have the ring with me. It's being made…so this is the informal proposal part…' They'd been whispering about getting married for weeks. Once they were of age, they could sever all ties with Harrison and make their own decisions. Kate had already spoken to the vicar who had known her since childhood.

Heath and Kate had been planning to elope for weeks but recent family events had hastened the proceedings. Kate put her arms around him and they hugged. Together, they fell onto the ground, laughing. The girl rolled on top of him; she was very strong and athletic and had him in a gridlock, on his back as he tried to shake her off, all the time trying to kiss her beautiful neck.

Later that night, Kate wrote in her diary that her wedding to Heath would be a triumph of love and hope over reality.

'I need to hear you say it, Heath. What I'm about to do - run away with you - means my family will disown me and we can't ever behave like we did at the dance. There can never be…misunderstandings that we can't fix.'

'How can you doubt me for a second, Kate? You are my family now and I am yours. I have never loved nor will I love anyone the way I love you. You are everything to me. You are my world…and the only reason I'm here. I would have bolted a million miles away from Harrison by now if it didn't mean I'd miss you so much…' Suddenly the blood in Heath's veins surged. His mouth felt dry. He recognized the taste of venom in his mouth.

'Of course, I'm worried. Dr Vincent has told me that it's unlikely I will revert but I may evolve. On my birthday, the day I reach 'full maturity' as he put it, we don't know what will happen.'

'Whatever happens,' Kate said, 'I promise to be there.'

'Kate, I could start off mild…and then if I transition, I may become… uncontrollable.'

'I love you, Heath.'

'I love you too, Kate.'

'That's all I need to know.'

Heath covered Kate in kisses as she laughed and brushed the ground off their clothes.

'I'm glad we're making it official,' Heath said.

Kate smiled.

'We only have to wait until three months after your birthday, it's all arranged.' Kate said.

Heath hesitated, 'Remember, neither of us knows what…my condition will mean…' Just now, he'd nearly lost control and kissed her a little too close, too deep.

'I accept you, no matter what. But,' she joked, 'if you think we're too young…'

Heath's face dropped. 'You mean you're not sure?'

'Yes, of course I'm sure. I just want to try to smooth things over with Harrison. It will be easier on us.'

'Listen to me Kate, there is no "smoothing things over" with Harrison. He means to make our lives as difficult as possible. Harrison cannot be trusted. He will not help us and he will not help you if you try to make it up with him. You remember how he used to treat us as children? The hours where he would lock me in the basement and put you in a cupboard before father came home and discovered him? Don't you remember his callous behaviour, the cruel beatings?'

'Yes, of course I do. He was always jealous of how much father doted on us. He was jealous of how much you and I loved each other. He called our desires…unnatural. I often wondered what he meant since he was never told about your…condition.'

'I assumed he meant because we were raised together, but that hardly applies now.'

'Harrison is practically my only family… apart from you. I always thought once he got over his teenage phase… you know he really went off the rails at boarding school, going to wild parties, indulging in bad behaviour. He brought all of that home with him. I just thought he might change.'

'It's his nature, Kate. Some people don't change.'

'It would be easier… if he did.'

'You mean, it would be easier for us… financially.'

'Well, yes. I am used to having nice things and a comfortable house…'

'Those things aren't important…'

'I know but…'

'You're not listening to me, Kate. I will give you all of those things… and more…just not yet.'

'We're so young, Heath.'

'Do you doubt me Kate?'

'No, no I could never… I love you Heath. I would run away to the moon with you, but just give me these few days to try to smooth things over. We'll leave the moment I turn eighteen, either way. I promise.'

Heath looked down at his shoes as Kate stood up and shook the blanket. She reached over and kissed him softly then ruffled his hair like she used to when they were children. He took her wrist and kissed it as if he would never release her from his touch.

'I am yours, forever,' Kate whispered. 'Sometimes it scares me how much I love you. It is as if I have left my own self and you and I are complete, only when we are together.'

They merged under the fading clouds as the shadows of two lovers became one in the dark.

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**Escape – Present Day**_

'Breakfast!' Greta called to the inhabitant upstairs. Heath was hurriedly dressing and came bounding down the stairs looking like a much younger man with his riding boots in hand, ready to go out.

'Not going to the office this morning?' Greta asked as she handed Heath his coffee which he hurriedly gulped down.

'I'm going riding, if the stables are still standing.'

'Well, the storm stopped about a week ago, but it's been raining ever since so I'm not sure it's the best weather for riding. Mud everywhere.'

'It'll be fine,' Heath assured her. 'Oh, I see we have a visitor.'

'Yes…your, er… niece, Katarina. She seems to have become quite fond of her cousins.'

Heath looked at Greta blankly. 'Where are they?'

'They've left already. Katarina and Linus went out to find props and attend a dress rehearsal for the play. What are you getting yourself into Heath?'

'Nothing I can't get out of. She has a right to know her cousins. They have a right to know her.'

Greta raised an eyebrow. 'This isn't more…vengeance, is it Heath? Because, you know, you already fought that war.'

'Did I Greta? I'm not so sure.' Heath, in a rare show of affection (he was in a surprisingly good mood this morning), leant over and pecked Greta on the cheek.

'Don't worry so much Greta. It's time I had some more young people about me. The place seems a lot sunnier this morning.'

'Oh, you and your "young people", Greta smiled. 'You don't look a day over twenty-six. I wish you could give me the secret to your eternal youth.'

'You don't know the half,' It was a strange comment, Greta thought, since Heath had shared his secret with her long ago.

The wind had flattened the heather outside. A slight trick of sunlight shone across the park turning the other side of the field gold.

Greta shrugged. 'Trying to stop Heath getting involved in something he wanted had been almost pointless, from the time he was a little boy.' She wrote in her journal. _'I knew I could do nothing to persuade him against his plan…' _

_**Twenty Years Ago**_

Kate crept into Hareton Hall when it was way past dinner the night Heath had proposed to her. There was lightness in her step as she moved upstairs to pack her things. In the dark, she heard breathing. At first she thought it was just Frances, who had fallen asleep soundly on the couch but it was also her older brother, Harrison. He flicked the switch on above the couch and all of the chandeliers shone at once, creating a halo above Kate's head. Her brother stared at her menacingly from the corner of the drawing room.

Meanwhile, Heath was delayed. He'd taken the horses to the stables to wash them down. Kate dodged Harrison and wandered over to pat Hinton's head and carry him to his room. He was curled up asleep in a lounge chair with his puppy and she hesitated to wake him. Hinton was always content to play with his animals. Today it was a new pet, but as often he picked up a lost kitten outside in the garden and took it inside to feed. There were always small creatures that found their way into Hareton Hall and Hinton's menagerie.

Hinton stirred awake just as Franny, snuggled into Harrison's shoulder, opened her eyes. Kate realised her sister-in-law must still be delusional about Harrison's true nature.

Harrison had, these past few days, mostly ignored Heath and tried to curry favour with Kate. Greta wrote in her diary that she wondered what new scheme he was planning.

'Kate,' he said out of the blue. 'Welcome home. You've returned.' He nudged Frances. 'Franny wondered if you'd like to go on a shopping trip with her…to Paris.'

Kate tried to ignore Harrison's bribe.

'Dearest Kate, I want you and Frances to be friends. Paris is close to Switzerland where Franny and I will be skiing. The trip is on me.' Harrison had decided it would help to have Kate on side, less hassle when he needed her to sign legal documents.

'When?'

'Next week.'

Kate nodded, although she and Heath would be far away by then.

Since Oxford, Harrison had worked at the family firm and in the weeks since her father had died, Harrison had taken over not just her finances, but control of the entire estate. Until she was eighteen, he had all the power.

'I've been thinking, Kate… and your mother agrees, it's time for you to go back to school. Father would have wanted you to complete your education.'

'And Heath?' Kate added.

'Oh, well, that's up to him.'

Harrison basically ignored the question. 'That boarding school in Scotland was always useless. It's where I went after all and I doubt things have improved and…I'm concerned that you spend too much time doing nothing meaningful there. You can finish your studies in Switzerland, visit your mother and also learn something useful at the same time.' Harrison looked at the kitchen disdainfully, 'like how to cook for your future husband.'

Frances smiled as Harrison sniggered.

Kate knew without asking that he did not factor Heath into his statement and their plan would have to go into full swing. Kate was angry, however, and she couldn't resist a retort.

'You went to university. Why shouldn't I have that opportunity?'

'Dear Kate, you will be rich. What do you need university for? You'll only marry and have children like all the women before you. Oh, and let me give you some advice, no man wants a wife who… talks back.'

Kate couldn't believe Harrison's disturbing psychological argument. It was the 1990s after all. Harrison had always been poison; she should never have even bothered trying to reason with him.

'And to be honest, Kate, father's contacts helped me achieve, not my marks at school. We don't have him to help us anymore,' Harrison said, just to rub it in.

Meanwhile, Greta stirred the pot in the kitchen, going over her written instructions to the cook regarding the lunch for the meeting of twelve Board members that Harrison had called. Heath was still in the stables grooming the horses. Greta raised an eyebrow.

Harrison continued. 'As you know, you are not yet eighteen, so you are still legally under my care. The truth is Kate, unless you want to be out on the street, you have no choice but to comply with my wishes or…'

'Or?'

'If you run off with Heath, I'll call the police and have you both brought back and the "charity case" arrested.'

'On what grounds?'

'Oh, I'll make something up. I'm far more creative than you realize. I have friends in high places. I'm sure we can accuse him of something…freakish or financial. Dipping into charitable funds? Being a vampire? That could keep him detained for a while.'

'You have no proof.'

'My suspicions are enough to make an awful lot of trouble for you both. Besides, you are under age…'

'By three months…'

Harrison's wife, who had been curled up in the corner of the couch, stretched and went upstairs. Before she left she kissed her husband's cheek, oblivious to the shouting or his true nature. After all, she had a family fortune to protect as well and the merging of both family companies could only be profitable for both families. As Frances left, she smiled at Kate with an almost pitying look. In that moment, Kate realised she was all but alone. If she ran to the stables where Heath was washing the horses and they went away somewhere with what little funds they had, they would be running forever if Harrison had his way.

Well, they'd just have to take that risk.

'I don't want to go to Switzerland, Harrison.'

'It's all arranged Kate. The driver will take you to the airport in about ten minutes. Don't worry, Franny will meet you in Paris the first weekend. Mmm…I sense your hesitation. I feel Heath has brought you quite low in the world. You are to leave this afternoon. Go upstairs and pack your things. Oh, and don't fret. The Hunts have a chalet for the holidays. You are invited to stay for the season. You should be happy. Six months will go in six weeks. Then, when you've finished school, if you want to throw your life away on the charity case, who am I to stop you?'

'No. Father would have wanted us to stay together.'

'Father isn't here now. I'm the head of this household and you have nothing unless I give it to you. Learn to obey me Kate, at least until you can earn your own living.' Harrison looked around him and added as an afterthought, 'although the women in this household have never been very good at doing that.'

'Maybe that's because the men in the family refuse to educate them.'

'Excuse me?' Harrison said.

'And Heath?'

'Heath is eighteen at midnight Kate. What he does is no business of ours. I have sent a messenger to encourage him to leave the property at once. I shall send him packing with plenty of cash, Kate. No need to worry.'

'That's a lie! You've always been jealous of him!' Kate yelled at her older brother from the top of the stairs.

'Even so,' Harrison said coolly. 'We'll see who has the last laugh now.'

'Where is he?'

'I have a police officer outside in the stables waiting to explain his rights to him. I expect he will choose to leave sooner rather than…later. He should have turned eighteen by the time he…chooses to go.'

'Another lie…he'd never leave without telling me…'

'Well, after he's been told about your decision, he's sure to want to leave. It's almost midnight after all. What were you both doing out in the park so late? Never mind, don't answer that.' Harrison said smugly.

'Heath knows it would not be my decision…that I didn't have a choice.'

'Mmm…' Harrison said with a smile. 'Well, we didn't really explain it to him like that.'

'I will not leave without seeing him.'

'Heath took his bags and left a few minutes ago. He'd be half way down the road by now.' Kate moved to the front door but Harrison warned her with his words. 'If he wants you, I'm sure he'll write. I must tell you Kate, this teenage passion you have for him seems to me to be very one-sided.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I have it on good authority…'

'Whose?'

'Edmund Hunt's since you're so interested.'

'What has he been telling you?'

'Well, he happened to mention to the son of a colleague of mine, that Heath and his sister had been quite close…'

'Another lie.'

'Is it?'

'You know Heath can't stand her.'

'Really? Well in my experience where there's smoke, there's fire. Go and pack your bags and stop behaving like a moron. A few months in Switzerland will do you the world of good. You can leave in the morning. And I'm warning you, Kate, you don't actually have a choice.'

Kate turned to go up the stairs, holding back tears.

'Haven't you forgotten something?'

'What?'

'Say thank you.'

Kate ignored him. She ran up the staircase. When she reached her bedroom Kate looked through the windows. The stables were quiet, the horses almost silently eating hay. Heath was nowhere to be seen. He must have been dragged off the property. Kate moved through the connecting door to the playroom, the place in which she once gained many hours of solace. The door slammed shut and Harrison locked it behind her.

Screaming was useless. Instead, she leaned against the door, slumped to the carpet and cried.

After a few minutes, Kate sighed. Harrison had not barred the windows. She was wrong to try to reason with her brother. This was all her fault for not running away sooner.

The girl picked herself up, went to her secret hiding place under the floorboards and found the documents she needed. Quickly, she threw her passport and some belongings into a bag and crawled out of the window like she used to when she was a child. She scraped her arm sliding down the scaffolding outside the building, flung her things into the car (she'd hidden a spare set of keys in the stables), and sped down the road towards the intersection. She was sure Heath could not have gone too far; then she remembered how fast he could run. The car shuddered and ground to a halt. The petrol gauge came up empty. Harrison must have emptied most of the tank, suspecting she'd try to escape. She would have to go by foot across the heath.

**Chapter Seventeen**

_**Midnight**_

The boy was walking quickly. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder full of supplies and the fruits of his gambling stuffed into the back pocket of his black jeans. Kate caught up with him and flung her arms around him.

He kissed and hugged her in return.

'I was going to wait for you, here,' he said. Kate looked closely at his face. The skin around his right eye was turning black…

'The police officer did that?'

'He wasn't a policeman. Just a thug Harrison hired,' Heath said bitterly.

'I'm so sorry. We should have left sooner,' Kate said, kissing him. His lips were still warm. 'It was foolish of me to try to find the good in Harrison where there is so little.' Kate added regretfully.

They hid behind the shelter of the bus shed as the weather turned and rain spat from the dark sky. Soon it would be midnight and they'd have to hide until morning. They were together now and immune to the outside world.

'This is all that matters,' Kate said as she hugged Heath for warmth.

'C'mon,' the boy said, releasing her. 'There won't be any buses until morning. We must find warmer shelter. Harrison is probably in an alcoholic stupor by now so there's no need for us to freeze to death.'

They trudged across the ground in the dark.

It was almost midnight when Heath began to feel a stirring in his arms. Exhausted, they rested at the base of an oak tree. The muscles in Heath's legs tightened and he was woken by the strong and sweet scent of human blood. Kate was bundled up in her coat next to him. She had scratched her arm, climbing down the side of Hareton Hall and Heath had a strong desire to lick the scratch. He stretched, resisting the almost irresistible. He knew he had to get to his vampire specialist in London, today if possible. He felt sure Kate would understand. The muscles in his body thumped and tightened. The need to drink blood overwhelmed him.

He quickly grabbed a packet of Magenta from his backpack. It was the new product his specialist had urged him to take a sample of during his last visit. This liquid sated him, momentarily, and he fell asleep again next to Kate as the snow began to fall on the glass roof above them.

They'd had no choice but to wait out the storm in the glass house, the place where he and Kate had once loved to visit, loved to be together, just seated side by side, barely bold enough to touch. Heath remembered best those moments of wonder and they only added to his love for her. Meanwhile, his desire to plunge his fangs into her neck was becoming more intense by the minute.

'Heath?' the girl asked sleepily.

'Kate?'

He nudged her awake. The blue coat she hid under was long and heavy, made for stronger weather and travel.

Kate opened her red eyes. He could see she had cried herself to sleep. 'We can never go back,' she whispered. 'He threatened to tell everyone about you or worse… have you framed for some fake financial crime… and he'd be capable of doing it, you know. He can forge your signature on documents…'

Heath looked away.

'I doubt he'd go through with it. He doesn't want to publicly besmirch the family name. Wipe away your tears, Kate. We have each other.'

Kate put her arms around him, but for the first time, he pushed her back.

'Don't Kate,'

'Why not?'

'I can feel a change tonight. I need to go to Harley Street…'

'We'll go together,' Kate said.

They huddled on the bench as Heath started to sweat. The girl spread her coat over the boy.

'You should leave me Kate; I don't know what is going to happen next. I want you to be safe. Safe, from me.'

'You can't be serious. You can't seriously… I could never love anyone as I have loved you… all my life you are the only one for me.'

'And you for me.'

'What has happened? What did Harrison say to you?'

Heath looked away.

'He told me I'm a…freak. That he didn't want my blood tainting this family…'

'That's not true! I love you. If you are a freak then I'm one too and I don't care what the world says…'

'Kate, listen to me. On the street, being pursued, we are nothing. Give me time. I shall get my antidotes, supplies, a job, make some money and…come for you.'

'No. Don't.'

Heath got up.

'No. I will come to you. I'm writing down this address, in London. It's a little café where I once visited with father in Covent Garden when I was small, before he brought me home that night to meet you. I went there once a few months ago with Greta. I kept the business card. Here, I've written all the details. Meet me there, eight am in three months on the twenty-eighth. The day you turn eighteen, you will be free of him. We will meet there and be together, forever.'

'Promise me.'

'I promise to find you again, if we are ever parted. But we are not going to be parted.'

The lovers embraced.

Heath's hearing had sharpened. 'I sense they are near…'

'No, I cannot let you go,' Kate said. 'I cannot live without you.'

'Kate!' He whispered, his desire to fang her was stronger than ever. Heath whispered softly as his knees fell to the ground 'I love you.'

A shout could be heard in the distance, then a whistle and a voice, 'She's in there!' Headlights shone in through the glass.

'Careful officer, he's got a gun,' Harrison said. 'He took it from the stables. He tried to kill me and he's abducted my sister…'

Momentarily, Heath slumped from the light which imitated the sun. Heath had his arm around what looked like Kate's neck and the police officer must have misconstrued what he saw.

'Don't shoot!' Kate yelled.

It was too late.

The shot ran out in the cold night air and went right through Heath's chest, barely missing his heart.

He shuddered and writhed in pain. It was a shot no human being could survive.

Kate was stunned. Motionless, she barely made a sound.

The police officer stared in horror at the lifeless young male. He was speechless as he bent over Heath's ashen body. The policeman checked the packet in the boy's lifeless fingers. His fist contained nothing but a water bottle inside a brown paper bag. No weapon existed on his body.

Kate screamed hysterically and placed her head upon her loved one's chest as she sobbed.

'Heath, Heath!'

Moments passed.

Harrison took Kate's arm and dragged her to her feet. She fought him all the way to the car and finally broke free of him, turning and running back to Heath's body.

The police officer, chilled from the night air and the shock of what he'd done, began dialling emergency from his car radio.

Kate screamed again as Harrison took a swipe at her. He forcibly dragged her back to the car but she punched Harrison and kicked him twice as hard. She ran back to Heath and flung herself upon him. In that moment, he was cold and still as she sobbed in the shadows. There was not another human in sight of the distraught girl.

'And then,' Greta added casually, 'the bullet holes started to heal. The flesh grew upon itself until not a mark could be seen through the holes in his shirt. Heath's chest began to rise and fall, his fingers moved, his warm, brown eyes opened.' Greta looked at me as she finished her tea. 'The last words from Heath before he got up and fled were, 'I will pay Harrison back for what he's done.'

Greta sighed. 'And sure enough, he did.'

**Chapter Eighteen **

_**London**_

Kate whispered in his ear, before he'd disappeared into the night, 'I'll pretend to go along with his plan - three months from now. The twenty-eighth like we planned.'

He kissed her forehead and fled.

Heath's disappearance was a mystery. Where a body had lain in the dark only mist seeped through the glass house as the solitary, crying girl was dragged forcibly back to Hareton Hall and then packed off to Switzerland.

The streets of Soho had been very cold at one am - summer, winter or any other season. It had been two days since he had been shot during his transition (and revived). When he fled Hampstead, after Kate was dragged from him, after she'd whispered the time and date of their wedding, he was speechless. Intent on survival, he disappeared into the Hampstead mist. Heath gorged himself on squirrels and hoped it would tide him over until he could get in to see his specialist, Dr Vincent.

Driving back to The Hall, Harrison was sure he'd seen the last of Heath. Although he suspected a vampire variation, he was sure he'd imagined, in his near drunken stupor, the events that had occurred in the early hours of that morning. It was, of course, Heath's eighteenth birthday. As midnight bells rang out, Heath was becoming immortal, shy of sunlight, wary of mirrors and gradually non-existent in photographs. Fearful of dawn and what he might do, the rest would evolve instinctively, over time. He would forge his own path.

After Kate was sent kicking and screaming to Switzerland, Heath's fees were withdrawn as Harrison had promised and the school was notified that Heath would not be returning.

Meanwhile, Heath's friends from Scotland were in school and he had no local acquaintances in Hampstead or the surrounding boroughs and even if he did, he wanted to get as far away from what he remembered of his childhood, as he could. He had the small amount of money he'd saved from running his school fixtures racket (and winning), as well as the cash Kate had placed in her letter.

'I do remember that,' Greta laughed and then let the story continue as if telling itself…

Heath had a small amount of cash plus the money Harrison had given him "what remained of his father's wish", as a "do not return gift" - one hundred pounds – an insult. It was a great deal less than he'd actually been owed; and none of the legacy left to him by his adopted father.

Heath used the money for supplies. He then spent the second night after riding the tube and sleeping rough in St James Park, in a backpacker's hostel near the West End. He now had real empathy for the homeless and resolved that when he became rich and powerful he would help those less fortunate.

As Heath was transitioning, his body was changing inside, but he never gave up hope that he would land on his feet. He was almost glad to be free of Harrison and The Hall but it was Kate's promise of love that kept him going through those cold, desperate nights.

On the third morning he emptied his pockets and realised just how short of cash he would be, once he'd put down a payment on a room for the week. He went to stay with the older brother of one of his school team mates but it soon became clear after a few nights that he couldn't hide his needs from that family and he'd outstayed his welcome. He slept in the park again but it was freezing. The humanity left in him ensured he still felt very cold.

By now, he'd managed to see his specialist, who'd commiserated with him and congratulated him on his eighteenth birthday. The tests showed a major change in his chemical make-up and it would take a few days for his medication to settle his imbalance. Heath still saw his own reflection in the mirror, still ate food and continued to try to live as normal a life as possible. He slept in more than he used to, the craving for human blood was stronger. The promise of Kate was enough, and all he survived for.

Heath was sufficiently recovered from the first step in his transformation. He'd experienced all of the symptoms: major light sensitivity, pain raging through his veins so badly that he curled up under a tree in St James Park and whimpered in daylight, cravings, chills and sweats. He found a tiny bedsit room in Soho. It wasn't long before he discovered, along with the bad side-effects of transition, that he'd developed the power to move quicker and think faster. He could literally see a massive series of complex numbers and add them up to get the correct result. His mathematics skills had always been excellent but now they were computer-like in their accuracy.

Heath resolved to find a job, perhaps two. He could always work in a restaurant, and then look for something else that would utilize his other skills.

He'd always been good at mathematics at school but now his mind worked like a computer. He thought working in a bank might be a good direction to take. He would apply for an entry level job that required no formal qualifications. First, he needed some fast cash since he'd nearly used up all he had. London was a huge place and although young and now partially a vampire, he did not allow this to deter him. Heath went to a hotel and merged so quickly through the lobby that they didn't notice his trip to the men's room. He used the shower and towels and cleaned himself up. He went outside and walked towards Piccadilly via Regent Street and into Soho, leaving his name at various cafes and pubs along the way.

Although he had no experience, someone was sure to need a kitchen hand. As long as the fumes from the cooking didn't get the best of him, he thought he might actually enjoy working with food. He realised, at least for the moment, night work would be best.

The first time he'd walked out in broad daylight (and London was mostly overcast, even in summer), his skin crackled, far worse than it had when he was a child. Then, he realised he'd forgotten to wear his medallion. He placed it around his neck after that, never taking it off, realising it contained the power to help him live a relatively normal life.

After he'd secured a job in a café, he applied for a job as office cleaner in one of the huge banks in the City. It wasn't much but both jobs gave Heath hope.

Meanwhile, he studied the stock market, hoping to one day make enough money to put a deposit on a flat. In those weeks, applying to finish school by correspondence, (something Heath once planned to do), went by the wayside.

It was during this transition phase in his life that he turned a corner one day and walked straight into Annabelle Hunt, rugged up in a cherry red overcoat exiting the building where her Soho art class was held. Displaying a previously unrecognised knack for rebellion, Annabelle had insisted on attending day school in London so she could go to Art classes at college in the evening. Her family had relented because Annabelle had so rarely been passionate about anything (apart from Heath) in her young life. As the girl had turned eighteen she had some say in the matter.

'Anyway,' Annabelle said, 'school was so lame once you and Kate were gone. There was no one interesting to talk to at all, except my brother, and he's hardly exciting.' Annabelle added in a rare display of personality as they sat together in the student coffee shop where Annabelle had insisted on dragging Heath.

Heath nodded. 'Ah, something we both agree on,' he added sarcastically.

Annabelle smiled self-consciously.

Heath had been resistant to sit with her at first, but strangely, seeing Annabelle reminded him of Kate, and talking to her was like old times.

'You look so different,' Annabelle said, peering into his eyes. Heath looked away.

'I have her address, you know,' Annabelle added as she stuffed her contact details into Heath's palm and kissed him on both cheeks in her European way. Heath agreed to stay in touch and that is how Annabelle became Heath's unlikely ally.

In his spare moments, Heath studied the stock markets. He learned a lot from the discarded ledgers thrown in the waste paper baskets he emptied at the firm where he worked on week nights.

After working in a pub during the day, he managed to put a deposit on a tiny bedsit. The plan was to save enough money to finish school at a Sixth Form College the following term then fill out his university entrance forms for the next year.

Annabelle had contact with Kate through mutual school friends and reconnected with Heath to let him know she would be delivering the cards and letters Kate posted to him, care of her. These postcards would have gone "missing" if they'd been posted from Switzerland because Kate was not allowed to send mail to anyone that Harrison, her guardian, hadn't agreed to. The "society" Hunts, were on his list.

Surprisingly, Annabelle had agreed to act as a go-between for the lovers. Heath hoped Kate would go to university with him. Although he knew she had her heart set on Art School in Florence, London was 'a better option' she had written, 'considering their finances.' Heath smiled when he read her note, as Annabelle looked on pensively. She quite liked playing the go-between. It suited her surprisingly humble nature, Heath thought, underestimating her, not for the first time. He knew Kate would be making the best of a presumably bad situation in Switzerland and he worked away the days before he'd get the chance to see her again. They re-confirmed the date of their rendezvous in their letters.

Sleeping rough in St James, hunting squirrels for food - those days were a distant memory - yet hard living had almost suited him.

He was young, verging on immortal. He could easily stay out all night and work all day but he rarely spoke to other people nor was he interested in other girls. He'd taken Kate's red scarf; she'd left it in the stables in a rush, and now Heath kept it in his pocket. The wool was warm and smelt of her perfume.

His own bedsit, although grungy, was like a palace to Heath after the turmoil of Hareton Hall. In preparation for Kate's visit, Annabelle had insisted on buying lengths of material and decorating the windows. Occasionally, she wondered what it would have been like had Heath returned her infatuation at school but her new boyfriend, Toby, was good for her. He was also studying Art History. She knew she was in a better place with a man who could reciprocate her feelings. It was enough, she thought, just to be near Heath but Annabelle did not underestimate how important his new friendship was to her.

Heath was excited as the day drew nearer. He walked past the place Kate had arranged to meet him many times that week. On the second occasion he was sure he'd seen her, but then the girl turned around and her eyes were nothing like those of the woman he loved. Kate had promised him. Kate would be there. Promises were everything. A promise was all they had. The walls of his room were pasted with the old-fashioned post cards Kate had sent him every day for a week.

Through all of this, Annabelle had been the conduit. A secretive message relayed from a secret meeting in St James Park. She had even tried to stuff money in Heath's pocket while he waited for his first pay cheque. It was enough to give Heath and Kate hope since neither of them had telephones and the internet was barely in use.

The sun shone in London as Heath waited for Kate and their reunion drew near. He'd been holding down two jobs and with a roof over his head, was filled with hope for the future.

**Chapter Nineteen**

_**Promises**_

Meanwhile, Kate was unreasonably cold in the Alps.

Her roommates were chattering away by the fire, three to a room. They'd only known each other for a few months but already they were friendly, Kate thought, especially after she'd shown them the picture of her and Heath. On cold afternoons after deportment class and flower arranging and French cooking and "How to Entertain Diplomats" or "How to Behave When Greeting the Royal Family" tutorials were over, the girls socialized.

They turned their iron upside down, pulled out the small milk pan they hoarded for this very occasion, and made hot chocolates by pouring milk into the pan and sitting the pan on the underside of the iron to heat the milk. Their drinks were laced with the cream and marsh mellows they bought in the tiny convenience store in town. The girls sipped hot chocolate as they talked. The topic of discussion was usually Kate, Heath and their "everlasting love".

One of Kate's roommates, Tracey, was from California. She spoke in an accent Kate loved and made LA seem like a place Kate would definitely like to go one day. Daisy, the shorter one with dark hair, was from London.

'Oh, he's really cute,' Daisy said.

'Yes, he's hot. I would…definitely,' Trace replied with a wicked smile.

Kate smiled. 'Well, neither of you can have him, he's all mine,' Kate said, snatching the photograph, knowing she'd probably never have the pleasure of another image now that Heath was in the process of transition.

'Are you sure?' Tracey asked mischievously. 'All alone in London after your brother treated him so…scandalously?'

'Yes, it really was terrible to throw the _foster _child…out like that,' Daisy added. 'My mother would never treat a foundling that way. It just looks really bad to the outside world…'

Kate had told them the whole story (well, the parts she could repeat – nothing about Heath's transition) but they somehow always got the details wrong.

'Heath is so hot,' Daisy said, glancing at the photograph of Kate and Heath taken just days before they ran away from Hareton Hall. Kate looked at the picture nostalgically.

'Gosh your house sounds so romantic, tucked away opposite a frozen park…' Daisy added.

Kate unfolded the letter she had received from Heath by way of Annabelle and re-read it as she stirred the milk pan, making sure a plastic skin didn't form.

'Only one more week,' she thought '…before I'm free of this place forever.'

The girls had been sworn to secrecy and Kate had worked out the route she would take from the school, down to the convenience store across the sleet road to the bus stop, down the mountain road to the train station, through the tunnel in the mountain…across the channel then on to London.

The café was in Dean Street. From the corner table you could see the cobbled pathway that led towards Covent Garden. Art students and opera singers busked there in the hub of shops and cafes and people.

It had been a long three months and in that time Heath and Kate had communicated using letters and postcards.

In the pre-internet nineties, Kate and Heath needed Annabelle as their intermediary.

The cards and letters Kate wrote Heath during their enforced separation lined the wall of the tiny room he'd taken. They began to arrive less than a week after Heath and Kate separated. Kate found a local bakery near the school where she walked to in her lunch hours and religiously posted a card to Heath using Annabelle's address. Sometimes at night after Heath had eaten food brought home with him from the pub (always some kind of red meat or chicken), he fell asleep reading the names of the cards on the wall.

The words: _holiday, skiing_ and _Switzerland_ became a kind of pattern in his mind; a pathway out of the daily grind he told himself was only temporary. He recognised a stronger desire for blood (and always the desire for revenge on Harrison) the closer he got to midnight.

His love for Kate tempered him. He was sure it made him a better person to know he had to be the best he could, for her. He resisted the evils lurking in St James. Daily, he was tempted by the homeless people on the street, the women in expensive coats, business men in even more expensive suits. Their veins pulsed at him like light if he was even a few minutes late taking his medication. He'd explained all of this to Kate in a letter; the one in ten thousand chance he'd had of being born a hybrid, then turning into a vampire; how his biological father must have carried the gene but not necessarily suffered from its affliction.

The night he was due to see Kate, Annabelle and some of her Art School friends took Heath out to celebrate the fact that he had applied and been accepted into a training program at the firm where he cleaned. His brilliance with numbers and ability to stay up all night studying ensured him the highest marks in the exam. They went to a restaurant in the centre of town where Annabelle, who had pretty much given up on Heath as anything but a friend, had arranged a surprise for Heath. Kate's arrival was not supposed to be until the next day, Saturday, but she'd managed to "escape" early, as she put it.

Kate waited for Heath expectantly. She wore a scarlet coat and a matching scarf and her hair was swept up in a winter woollen cap, making her appear sophisticated beyond her years. Annabelle arrived with a group of friends from Art School and headed to the reserved table.

'Kate! It's so wonderful to see you. I cannot believe you are back in London for good! Don't worry; everyone thinks you are staying with me. They won't notice you've gone missing until Tuesday - plenty of time for you and Heath…'

'I can't thank you enough, Annabelle.' Kate said.

'Well,' Annabelle replied, 'I hope we can be friends now, as we were always meant to be.' Annabelle glanced over at the handsome Art School student she was dating and Kate realised Annabelle was finally over Heath. Maybe it was true they could at last be friendly. Without her cover, she would never have been able to escape the day before her birthday.

'Thank you so much for being such a true friend to me Annabelle.'

'Not at all, it's about time Harrison got some of his own medicine. I've always liked Heath… as you know, but let's face it, he only ever had eyes for you,' Anne added.

When Heath arrived, expecting to see Annabelle and her other friends (who were now his friends) he was completely floored.

'Kate! You changed your mind and arrived early!' he said as she shyly kissed him on both cheeks.

'I wish. Tomorrow,' she whispered in his ear, 'I'm yours forever.'

Kate flung her arms around him and together they sat with the group while they all decided where to go for dinner. Something cheap but cheerful in Soho was the general consensus. Heath chatted excitedly about his new job opportunity and Kate told him about her plans to enrol in Art College with Annabelle.

Kate leaned in toward Heath and took his hand under the table. 'I don't care what happens now as long as I'm with you,' she said. 'Finishing School was a nightmare.'

Heath smiled back with his eyes and whispered to her, 'I love you.' He had invested his stock market winnings and had managed to double the money in a month. It was enough for them to have their deposit on a flat.

'The room in Covent Garden, it's tiny, it's not much, but soon I'll be making so much money. In a few years you'll be able to choose the finest house in London - or, who knows, we could move to America. I've always wanted to go there.'

They talked this way all night, making plans for their future. They couldn't tell anyone about their plans for the next morning, not even Annabelle. It was too risky to involve others. They intended to stay up all night until their wedding day which would be the following morning.

'New York is supposed to be brilliant,' Kate said as she ate the salad off her plate and passed Heath the chicken.  
'It is for artists,' Toby said. Kate was keen to meet Toby, Annabelle's boyfriend. Belle had been secretly seeing him for months. It was the reason for her move to London. Annabelle's father didn't approve of her dating an artist. In defiance Annabelle had run away from home. Her father had not dared to cut her off financially though, as Heath and Kate had been. Annabelle was in love (for the second time, Kate thought with a smile). Belle's new passion finally took the heat off Heath, although he'd obviously grown to like Annabelle. They'd made better friends than he'd anticipated. Unexpectedly, Annabelle dragged Toby up off his seat and they began to dance to some random eighties song together.

Kate leant in, 'Wow Art School has certainly changed Annabelle …"

Heath replied, 'For the better, I'd say. By the way, how long before they notice you're missing and phone the authorities?'

Kate said, 'You mean Harrison …'

'Yes.'

'Well, they think I'm staying with Annabelle until Tuesday. By tomorrow, I'll be eighteen and they won't have any say in the matter.'

Kate leant in and Heath kissed her, the strobe lighting played tricks with their shadows as he whispered, 'I'm under control. I just thought you should know. I've been to the specialist and he says I may not devolve any further as long as I stay on my…'

Kate put her finger to his lips, 'We love each other. That is all that matters.'

At midnight, Heath replayed those words many times in his head. He could see Kate's expectant face as Annabelle and Toby wandered off to another club. Heath and Kate hailed a taxi.

'I want you so much,' Kate whispered to Heath in the back of the London cab.

'Me too, but we should wait until morning.'

'What do you mean?' Kate smiled.

'By morning, the transition for me will be almost complete. My specialist told me the first phase takes three months, unless there is a relapse. I've been taking my medication now for almost three months and I'm… stable. I won't be tempted to…drain you…' Heath then looked away as he said this and pulled out of his jacket the ring he'd been carrying in his pocket since his first pay cheque. He'd lived on nothing and saved every cent to buy Kate the style of ring that he thought she deserved. The diamond was larger and more expensive than a young man in his position would have been able to afford, but it was a token of his trust in their future and his faith in Kate's complete love. The diamond shone.

'Oh, Heath, it's beautiful.'

Kate slipped it on her finger.

'Happy birthday Kate.'

'It fits perfectly,' Kate said as she slid her arms around Heath's broad shoulders and kissed him passionately.

'Oh, we need to do this properly,' Kate whispered, coming up for breath.

'Driver, pull over please,' Heath said.

The cab pulled up on the curb near the well-heeled part of Kensington where the shops were freshly painted.

Heath asked the driver to wait, while he opened the door and helped Kate out.

In the street lights, Kate walked with Heath towards a clothing shop.

'Wait outside,' she warned, 'I had access to some money for the ski trip I'm meant to go on. I ordered something from this store in Switzerland. The store had it packed up and sent to the London shop. You're not allowed to see it yet.'

Kate returned with a large bag. Inside was her wedding dress. It had been packaged up for her collection, all arranged weeks ago.

Before she could add anything in words, Heath kissed her.

'Kate, you have made me the happiest person in London.'

'And you have made me the happiest woman in the world, in the universe,' Kate said. It was first light as they drove towards the tiny church in Chelsea; Kate recalled scrawling the words _Katherine & Heath own the universe…_all over her school texts when she was younger. Soon those words would be a reality. Kate knew they belonged together - her dream was coming true.

It was freezing; flakes of snow began to fall from the sky as they walked up the steps. Kate emerged from a side room dressed in her cream lace vintage gown. Heath was talking with the vicar. They'd bought flowers from a street seller on the way and Kate held a large bouquet of tulips.

Together they said their traditional vows and both embraced on their promise. Kate shivered as they kissed.

They exchanged words of thanks with the vicar who remarked on their youth. After the promise of their love, they signed the registry.

Outside as they hailed a cab, Kate and Heath kissed again with an intensity that made people on the footpath stare.

Heath smiled, filled with love for his beautiful new wife. He had wanted her from the first moment they had kissed, yet they had waited to be free. They reached for each other in the back seat of the London cab as they headed towards Soho. Heath had spent his whole pay cheque on a suite at the best hotel in Covent Garden. The exquisite room with the Queen sized double bed and fresh sheets was strewn with the petals of Kate's favourite flowers as Heath carried his young wife over the threshold. For the first time in months, as they kissed passionately and undid the buttons on lace and silk, their lives seemed rich with possibility.

The afternoon had been perfect. The transitions occurred in the shadows, in the early hours, as Kate lay sleeping. She woke and hugged Heath to her, nursing him through his night terrors, checking they had all the necessary supplies of Type A, plasma, elixir, medication. The final part of the six-month process was the worst, they'd been told. Kate soothed Heath as he fell back into a trancelike sleep.

In the early morning, a knock at the door woke Heath. Kate had risen earlier and was using the hair dryer. A messenger delivered a note addressed to Heath who read it quickly.

'I'm just going outside for a moment,' he said through the gap in the bathroom door.

'Uh, okay,' she called out to him. Silence was the response.

Kate wrapped her dressing gown around her and padded into the room with wet feet. She searched the hallway of the hotel; nothing. It worried her that the messenger and Heath had disappeared into dawn.

Heath had hastily scribbled a note for her and left it on the bed.

**Forget me until I find you. Wait for me, I'll return. I'm sorry H.**

Kate was shocked. It couldn't be Heath's writing, but it was. Kate dropped the note on the floor, pulled on her clothes hastily and ran out onto the street, bare foot, to look for him. After an hour on the street, searching through the crowds, it was hopeless. Her feet, bloodied and bruised, were the least of her troubles. Heath had disappeared into thin air. All Kate had left was the memory of the first night they'd spent together, blissfully entwined in each other's arms.

**Chapter Twenty**

**London**

_**Three Years Later **_

Heath was walking home from work after he'd been photographed for the cover of New Business Magazine. The journalist was writing about Financial Whizz Kids – the title chosen for the article. Heath tried to remain himself but the art director had insisted on having his hair messed, his tie skewed and his jacket open, giving him the appearance of a rock star and making him more famous amongst his colleagues in a week than he had been in a year. Women he'd never met messaged him. Heath told them he was married and most of them stopped. He was too young to be married but then he explained he'd met his wife when they were teenagers and they just raised their eyebrows.

Soho on Friday night was lit up with music and lights, like a buzzing carnival act. The West End was busy every night of the week. Heath had been working in the City making more money in his first year as a stock trader than he'd dreamt possible. Through extreme luck and, some might say, mathematical genius, financial fortune came his way. He was a mystery to his co-workers, but Heath knew the truth; that he never slept, that he was able to do in one day what took others a week; he could stay awake and trade in every time zone.

After trawling the usual after-work bars with work colleagues (referred to euphemistically as "friends"), Heath often ended up near his home in Chelsea at a small cafe, drinking elixir from a flask and checking the Asian markets as he waited for his supper of rare roasted lamb, occasionally fish, sometimes chicken – always protein. He usually arrived at his house in the early hours of the morning and was up again and seated at his desk by six in the morning.

He was aware that more than a decade of living this lifestyle would take its toll on his family, yet he existed in the moment. Money markets and stockbroking firms were where traders like him could make a huge profit and get out by the time they hit thirty, which gave him about nine years until burn out. And then some, because he'd been warned now, he wouldn't appear to age more than twenty-six years. He had made a full transition, immortality beckoned. He loved the feeling money and this new vampirical power gave him. It had taken him less than a year to turn his life around and he couldn't help but congratulate himself on his good fortune. He never had any doubt that he was as good as anyone else, as capable as any person.

Heath stayed out late to avoid going home. It was true their house was envied in a street full of beautiful homes and families, but it was all surface. To the outside world, they seemed so perfect. Still, he knew he'd made this "fast money" by doing things he never dreamt he'd do – marrying into wealth, identifying the weaknesses of other men and preying on them. As he made money, others lost it.

When the waiter brought the tall, striking young man in the dark suit another coffee as he'd requested, Heath remembered the request from his wife. She had asked him to bring groceries home - milk, bread, mundane things, nothing special. The message had been given to him in his office six hours ago. She's added love and kisses as she always did, revealing her true self with each forgotten word. It had all become a bit old to Heath. He flinched when he recalled the embarrassing note.

Familiar music played in the café; a beautiful song, sung by a band Kate had liked, all about the perfection of a day. For evening, it couldn't have been a more inappropriate song. Nevertheless, the music played as Heath drank his coffee and went over the business transactions on his laptop as the wait staff began to clear up and wonder when the last customer would leave.

The words of the song played over and over in his mind.

Heath sighed, wondering why Kate always came back to him when he was alone. He wished she could be erased from his memory, forever. Any good psychologist would tell him he was better off without her. Heath finished his drink, and then went to the street to hail a cab. Of course, he wasn't far from the bedsit they'd shared briefly after they'd married. The West End was filled with his memory of her.

Meanwhile, Kate was at home at The Grange wondering how it had all gone so wrong. She sat in the window seat in the moonlight, doing some sketches under a lamp for the theatre design she was drafting. The drawings were a welcome distraction from her personal life and she'd grown to enjoy the drawing and planning along with the productions she worked on at the theatre with Annabelle; at twenty-one, she felt old.

_**Two years previously**_

Kate gave birth to a girl, Katarina.

The baby's birth was premature, yet she survived. Kate and the baby's nanny were waving toys above Katarina's crib in the nursery at The Grange, six months later. It was a lighter, airier room than the one at Hareton Hall, decorated with pink curtains at Annabelle's insistence. There was a familiarity at The Grange which led to a certain type of contentment as Kate soothed her baby. Just as she was about to sing Katarina her favourite lullaby, Annabelle ran breathlessly into the room.

'Kate, I have to tell you something,' Belle whispered. 'The detective contacted me this morning; he's discovered money being deposited into Heath's bank account; they traced it to New York. Heath's been living over there.'

Kate was silent.

'Don't you see what that means, Kate?' she whispered. 'He's alive! We thought the worst when his bank account hadn't been touched.'

'Yes,' Kate said. 'I felt he was alive. What am I supposed to say? He abandoned me.' She turned and walked purposefully up the stairs. The wild haired girl she had once been was prematurely replaced by a grown up wife. Kate looked at herself in the mirror as she dressed in her old jeans, red sweater and expensive winter coat. All she saw in the reflection was a miserable young woman, a terrible mistake. What choice did she have? Kate had wanted a father for her child.

Months of wondering and searching for Heath who was untraceable had been hard on her. The man she loved had proved himself worse than unreliable. She knew she should be forgiving as Annabelle would no doubt be, yet she found it difficult to smile. If Heath did return, he was sure to be angry.

'He'll come to visit you, I know he will,' Annabelle said as she walked into Kate's room.

Kate just looked at her, barely smiling. They walked downstairs.

'Well it won't do much good now, will it? I'm going to see what Greta has made for lunch.' Kate glanced briefly at the parcel Annabelle had left for her on the dining room table.

'These are the photographs I took,' Annabelle added.

Annabelle had taken photography as one of her core subjects at Art College. She had a job as a gallery assistant in a Soho studio. Her photographs were artistically lit but practically framed, perfect for advertising a production such as the one Kate was now co-designing in the West End.

Kate's passion for painting had not subsided. She'd also completed a theatre design course and her sketches were much in demand. Motherhood, and the beginnings of her artistic career, had gone part way to rectifying the monotony of her days. Katarina and painting made her focus on the future.

That week, Harrison, his wife Frances and her young brother Hinton, had gone to Ireland to visit the premises of a new company. Edmund Hunt, Kate's husband, was spending the day at his office in the City. Kate had agreed to house sit at Hareton Hall that night with the baby and her nanny, but only to satisfy her sister-in-law's wishes.

Kate was working on one of her final designs for the play due to open the following month, and feeding Katarina, when she rushed up to the kitchen and hung her head over the sink. Though her stomach was flat, she felt unsettled and nauseated, again. The thought of bringing a new life into her world was quite shocking although she knew Edmund would be happy about it. Kate put the symptoms of pregnancy out of her mind. After Katarina and her nanny were settled upstairs, Kate decided to explore.

It was strange to pad around Hareton Hall in bare feet and her dressing gown for the first time in years. The memories were provoking a strong reaction in her.

The mansion was quiet but it still felt more like home than The Grange. She felt the absence of Heath and her father, everywhere she wandered. The usual staff had Sunday afternoon off, including Greta. Kate had turned all the chandelier lights on (the electricity bill was sure to annoy Harrison) and turned the downstairs music up. She wasn't that far away from being a teenager even though she was now a mother; she felt like softly dancing the roof off, if only to forget how much of a mess she'd made of everything.

When she finished moving to the music, she decided to explore the upper floors. She peeked into the playroom where Katarina was soundly asleep. The nanny, whom Edmund had insisted on employing (she had raised both him and Annabelle), was knitting a cardigan in the comfortable arm chair and placed her fingers to her lips. Kate quietly shut the door. Although the nanny was brilliant, Kate sometimes thought the woman considered her too young to be an adequate mother.

Wandering alone through the top floors, she was surprised to find her former bedroom was similar to the way she had left it. Her school mementos had been placed in boxes high in the cupboard and labelled in Franny's neat, clear, handwriting. Photographs from every year of her childhood and adolescence, as well as old videos, were stacked side by side.

It was kind of Frances not to have thrown them out, Kate thought. Previously, she'd had little to do with her sister-in-law though they now lived ten minutes apart. There was even a box of old school uniforms. Kate took out her blue blazer with red piping around the edges, the one she'd worn to boarding school in Scotland. Then she pulled a large, woven basket towards her. She intended to have a huge throw out, to leave the past behind her once and for all.

Cleaning up was busy work and mid-morning; half way through throwing out her old clothes, Kate became bored. She checked on Katarina, kissed her precious face, fed her, and then considered her clothing options. Kate dragged her old riding clothes from her wardrobe and pulled on high, polished black boots that matched her long, curly dark hair. Kate twisted her curls into a loose bun and grabbed her coat. It was true that Harrison had maintained the house but it was sure to be chaotic again soon with the imminent return of the rambunctious yet adorable Hinton.

On occasion she had found Hinton, a few years older than Katarina, standing by her cot and attempting to hold hands with the baby or teach her words she didn't know. He was a very protective, sweet natured child, although Kate constantly worried for his future in the care of Harrison. Yet Hinton's good nature seemed to bring out the best in everyone around him, including her brother.

Thirsty, she stomped to the kitchen, aware of her noisy feet on the polished floors. The music had stopped and the place was almost eerie. Kate missed her father, but not enough to live in the house that held the memory of him, Heath and of their shared childhood. Kate poured herself a large glass of water and drank it quickly. Almost as quickly, she grabbed her scarf and went outside to the stables, pulling the door shut behind her. The wind, which was rising across the Heath in the distance, along the walking tracks and riding trails, was harsh. Her lips were red and her cheeks flushed with cold and exercise.

Kate patted, brushed and saddled her horse but she decided to walk alongside Hero through the park trail. It was not a great day for riding in her possible condition. Although it started out sunny, it became cool, windy and overcast. Kate knew exactly where to find shelter when the storm that had earlier threatened to interrupt her afternoon, finally arrived, after she'd been walking Hero for half an hour. Kate removed her wedding ring, the one that rubbed on her finger with the reigns and placed it in her pocket. She wore her first one around her neck, close to her heart.

**Chapter Twenty-one**

_**Revenge**_

Hampstead Heath had a thin film of lavender mist hanging over it during winter as she headed for the Glass House. There were very few people in the meadow at this hour of the day. Kate was invigorated from the cool air in a way she wouldn't have been had she stayed inside. Her usual routine - a light lunch, nurse Katarina, read or do some yoga - before wading through the play script that lay in wait for her had been replaced by her ramble. She had more ideas about the design of the play she was working on and had brought paper with her to sketch the arboretum. The garden was the central motif in the play and she wanted to take another look at the architecture.

Kate tied her horse up and got him some water. As she did this, a familiar horse rode towards her, or maybe she just thought his markings were familiar. As she looked closer through the clearing, it was the rider she recognised. He was slightly older, leaner, yet unmistakably the man who had filled her every waking dream and now her nightmares.

Heath alighted from his horse in the easy manner of a country squire.

Kate looked over at him. Even from a distance, she could hardly believe he was real.

He walked towards her, slowly, with purpose.

Before they spoke she reached over when he paused to touch his face as if to ask the vision before her if he even existed.

'Heath?' She whispered.

'Yes,' he replied. 'It's me.'

'But…you've been gone…for three years. I tried to find you. What happened? How did you come to be here?'

'Perhaps I should be the one asking questions. I saw your marriage notice in the paper not long after we parted.'

Kate was silent for a moment.

'You left me,' she said.

Heath's face displayed a knowing, hardened expression with more than a twinge of anger.

'I am staying at the pub. I have business with Harrison in relation to Hareton Hall. I went around looking for him but there was no one at home. I saw your car in the driveway and I didn't think you'd be far. The horses were there - all except Hero. One of them was practically biting his way out of the stable, so I thought I'd take him out. He seems to remember me.'

Heath patted the animal and went to tie the reigns.

'Business… with Harrison?'

'Yes. Greta told me you'd be here. You might be interested to know that I am soon to be the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

'How?'

'Harrison mortgaged it to my company; he lost his money gambling. The house was going cheap and I put a down payment on it. I officially own it as of…about three minutes ago. '

Heath smiled. Kate knew she didn't have the full details of the matter but suddenly realized how good he must feel.

She visibly shivered as Heath took her gloved hand in his.

'I am to be your new neighbour Mrs Hunt.'

Kate sighed, never having doubted, in the faint possibility if he ever revealed himself to her again, Heath would one day be the stronger of them.

'And what of Harrison?'

'Oh, he can remain in the guest cottage until he's found another place to stay. It's all arranged.'

Together they walked in breathless silence towards the glass house where they had met as children. There were overgrown hothouse flowers and benches and comfortable chairs for lovers. The chairs had been unused all winter until Kate and Heath rested upon them, side by side. Again they sat in silence for what seemed the longest stretch of time. Actually it was only a few minutes.

Both former lovers were angry. Kate was almost speechless.

'Did you read the note I left?'

'Yes, you said you'd find me,' Kate replied softly. 'It wasn't enough. All those legal terms…none of them true.'

'I needed proof. Harrison told me we shared the same biological father…' He showed Kate the note.

_Forget your unnatural desires, _it read_. Apart from the fact that you are a monster there are few grounds for an annulment and marrying a close relative is one of them. I tried to keep you both apart for a reason. Kate is your half-sister. Mother left because she knew! That's what they were fighting about that night, more than ten years ago. I heard them! You are father's biological child. He said so himself…Do Kate a favour and leave her. I'll arrange an annulment at this end. We'll tell her you changed your mind. I'm sure she'll understand once she knows the truth. I tried to warn you. Thank me later, Harrison._

Kate shook her head after she read it.

'I am not surprise. Harrison told me of the supposed connection. I suspected he was lying.'

Heath was silent. Kate tore the letter up.

'Later, after I married Edmund he admitted it was another of his lies, designed to tear us apart - only this one worked,' Kate said regretfully.

Heath noticed Kate's scarlet riding jacket. It contrasted with her black riding boots and reminded him of blood. The colours suited her well. Blood reminded him of betrayal.

He would never admit that he envied her marriage and longed for revenge upon her family that went further than just the ownership of Hareton Hall. In any case, Kate must have expected the foreclosure on her childhood home since there had been talk all over town for months that Harrison was going broke and had dragged the family name into disrepute. Then he remembered that it was likely Kate barely knew anything. She rarely spoke to her brother.

'What have we done Heath?' she said after a long silence.

He could see her breath, cold in the air and longed more than ever to do what he'd always resisted doing; to do what he'd done in the endless nights of travel, parks and animal blood. Then, after he had money, there had been the empty living of hotel suites, women and elixir to help drown his misery. It had taken him months to trace his mother, to find out the truth. The specialist had told him he could be fairly sure Harrison's allegation was untrue but for total confirmation he'd have to locate his biological mother and trace some evidence of his biological father. It had all taken so much longer than he'd expected, several weeks. He'd been in virtual limbo in the meantime, not wanting to burden Kate with his misery after he'd tried to find her. He'd seen her through the windows of The Grange that night, looking so content.

He felt more empowered inside than ever since he'd allowed his true nature to emerge. Once he'd stopped worrying about Kate's thoughts he could begin to live the life he was born to live. He looked at her again, the veins in her wrist and neck, thumping, tormenting him.

Her hand moved to his and she looked at him pleadingly. In that moment, he was sure he hated her unfairly. The glimpse of the wedding ring near her neck convinced him he was right. His plan for vengeance had stirred in him ever since he'd seen Edmund kissing Kate in the window seat that night. Weeks after Heath and Kate married; Heath's transition phase began to stabilize. He wanted her back.

Kate looked at him accusingly.

'How can you look at me like that? You married another. You didn't wait as I asked you to. Harrison had drained the family funds and I now see what a good idea it was for you to marry richly and quickly and…to that spoilt brat Hunt. I see how easily an annulment was arranged, given the feigned reasoning that we were biologically…related. I can't believe you actually went through with the new marriage. Of course, it all makes perfect sense, given the way you were raised and your brother's distorted value system…'

'In my defence, there was a good reason. You abandoned me. Harrison finally admitted it wasn't true but by then I couldn't…locate you.'

'I came to find you, weeks later, after I'd made sure…everything was as it needed to be.'

'I was dragged to Verbier to recover from my broken heart. I had a skiing accident. I was unconscious for three days! I couldn't get a message to you. I looked for you everywhere. I tried to find you but you had…disappeared. I waited for you… long enough. You had simply, vanished. It was…logical for me to…marry Edmund, I had no choice…I never believed you would ever come back to me. Not after the note Harrison wrote.'

'I said I would return. Love is not logical Kate. I'm sure your mother taught you that…' He coughed into the sleeve of his jacket as he said this. Kate was alarmed by his thinness and pallor. He looked hungry.

'You are so cruel Heath. You know my mother taught me very little except how to leave.' The woman stood, but she did not move away from him. Just being near him gave her strength and courage. The scent of Kate's perfume was an elixir to Heath, as magical as her blood which he longed to drink. He moved closer.

'Stay,' Heath said. 'Please stay. No piece of paper should separate us.' He took her gloved hand, looking desperate for the first time and slumped into her shoulder. 'Please, get me my…drink. It's in the saddle bag.'

Kate got up and grabbed a flask, taking off the top and poured Heath some amber liquid.

'How is your…condition?'

Heath took a sip and looked at her as if he might eat her.

'Manageable.'

He'd torn the leg off a turkey and eaten it before he'd come to find her. At least the leg was cooked. He hadn't stooped to raw meat yet, unless it was a fresh animal kill.

By then, from the look on her face, Heath knew he had gone too far. Kate, like him, had had very little parental guidance. The girl turned on him as he regained his strength, lashing out…

'You don't know everything…you don't know anything! You went missing after our wedding, remember? I thought you'd abandoned me or worse, that you were dead! What did you expect?'

'I… I didn't want to hurt you with the truth about our family… what I've since learnt was false. I went for a walk to clear my head but the transition caused me to collapse in a gutter. I woke up three days later in a police station…'

'You should have known…Harrison would do anything to separate us.'

Kate looked away.

'I know… for that I owe you an apology.' Heath said. 'Harrison's lie was a shock to say the least. Something I wanted to spare you. To do that, I needed the truth. I needed to find my…birth mother.'

He did not wish to elaborate upon the murkier details of the conversation he'd had when Harrison had inferred Kate was a blood relation.

Kate looked away, 'I know,' was all she said.

'When I had proof, I contacted Greta. She begged me not to make trouble but I had to find you anyway. Then I learnt you'd gone skiing…with the Hunts.'

'You had disappeared. Annabelle offered comfort and support…'

'Yes, I know, and her brother…' Heath said sarcastically, 'You've always been perfectly capable of impressing your…admirers, Kate. I hear you are the talk of the theatre world, young designer of the season, your drawings and paintings nominated for an award…'

'Oh, you never cared about me having a career…how dare you joke about it now! We both know all that seems meaningless in relation to…all of this.'

Heath turned and held Kate by the shoulders, 'You're right, I never did care about _your career_ as you put it, because all I wanted was you…'

'And you had me…'

Heath laughed sardonically.

Kate continued '… You were the one who went missing, _remember_.'

'Yes and now look at you, married to someone else with barely three months between us. Harrison must have really pulled strings to have the annulment rushed through.'

Kate looked away.

'The paperwork was destroyed. It was all hushed up. No one except the family knew we were even married.'

**Chapter Twenty-two **

_**Reunion **_

He was tempted to twist her arm with more than a little bit of force. Tempted to kiss her wrist, plunge his teeth into it, suck her blood and drain the life out of her. But he held back. If she'd come too close, he didn't know if he'd be able to control himself. Since he'd turned twenty one, everything had changed. Even with medication, he spent his nights out hunting, baying for blood, preying on animals when he couldn't resist. So far, he'd drawn the line at innocent humans but he craved their energy, especially Kate's. Her blood had always been tempting to him.

'I waited for you to return,' Kate repeated, frustrated with the tone of the conversation, 'until I could wait no longer.' Her words were greeted with stony indifference as they walked together, yet apart. 'I would've waited for you forever, if you'd just sent me some word, a proper explanation.'

'Well, it didn't take you long to make your choice,' Heath said bitterly.

'You gave up too easily…' Kate said incredulously.

Heath continued to talk. 'Stupidly, I left quickly, without talking to you. I went to find the doctor on Harley Street; I thought he would be able to shed some light on Harrison's lies, give me proof we were not brother and sister. My specialist was abroad. By the time I walked back to the bedsit to find you, it was almost midday. I went past that tiny pub near Dean Street where people had already congregated and was caught in the middle of a fight on the footpath. I don't know how it happened but I was knocked out and found myself in the back of a van being taken for questioning by the police. They locked me up that night and as we didn't have the telephone, I couldn't speak to you. I passed out.

Without my supplies, things just went from bad to worse. I became delirious. When I woke, I was desperate to find you.

There was a girl and a man that night as I walked back to our flat, and they were fighting and he brought out a knife. There was no one else around and when he threatened her, then me… I… snapped. I did not know my full strength. It was the first time I ever… fed on a human. The girl fled. The man was alive when I left him but I felt so despicable. Still, I wanted to find you, though I could hardly face you. You weren't at the bedsit and…I believed he would have killed the girl if I hadn't…stopped him - but I was out of control by then. I vowed never to let myself become like that and to find out the truth about…us.'

Kate was shocked; she didn't know what to say.

'Perhaps in some cases…violence is justified. I am not afraid of you, Heath.'

'Their fight started with a few misplaced words and a punch being thrown out on the street…but ours started so much sooner. We were always from two different worlds, Kate, but two halves of the same whole, even so.'

Heath looked embarrassed as he told Kate the rest of the story.

'I tried to contact you. I'd spent the night locked up and a further day talking my way out of everything - it's a long story - there was no match to me on the man's person so they couldn't charge me. Oh, that's the latest thing, my…fingerprints have disappeared. And… when I look in the mirror, I barely see my image. But I'm still okay in the sun, as long as I wear this.' He pulled out the amulet her father had made sure he wore as a young child.

'I was very…angry when I got back to Hampstead. I felt…unworthy of you, but I was determined to find you. I had my answer from Dr Vincent and I was satisfied the necessary tests had been made to ensure we were not related. Then, I made my way back here to Hareton Hall and walked across this park. It was almost exactly three years ago today.

As I approached the house, Hareton Hall was lit up like a Christmas tree. I felt a pang of…envy, jealousy as if I didn't know how I'd react if I saw you. Kate, for the first time in my life, after what had just happened, I didn't trust myself around you. I was determined to demand your whereabouts from Harrison if you had been, as I believed you were…sent back to Switzerland. I'd already contacted the school after I returned to our empty bedsit, but they gave me nothing, because they weren't allowed to tell me anything. Then they suggested you might be at The Hall. I thought maybe Annabelle had told someone… that we planned to run away together…'

'No,' Kate said, 'she was loyal to us both…'

Heath continued…

'When I finally saw the inside of that house, through the big lower floor bay window where you always used to sit and read, I saw Hunt's face, and Annabelle's, laughing. There was a puppy in your arms and you looked happy. Harrison and Frances seemed so… self-satisfied on the couch. Harrison was playing the "good husband" and talking amiably to Frances. I could hardly contain my…rage when I saw your beautiful, smiling face in the corner room looking outside.'

'I was looking…for you.'

'Well…I'm glad you didn't see me.' Heath said resignedly.

'I'm not glad.'

'When I saw Hunt come over and hand you a gift, something inside me, changed.'

'It was Christmas…tradition…'

'I gathered that. But it was unbearable to me. He…kissed you.'

'The party was celebrating my recovery. I could hardly walk after the ski trip. I'd been in a coma and I'd woken up…and you had been missing for so long.'

'I know. But the gloating look on Harrison's face and Hunt's obvious attraction to you, made me angry. I felt like killing him. You kissed him back, Kate.'

'I was acting. I had no choice.'

'I think you were happy with them… with the security Hunt provided for you in that moment …like that. It seemed to be what you had always wanted.'

There was a long silence that hung between them like ice.

'I vowed revenge.'

Kate nodded slowly.

'I have since thought… I may have been…partly…responsible. Heath, I called everywhere asking for you prior to the day of my marriage.'

'I was… not fit for company after that moment. I stayed watching you in the shadows, my anger slowly submerged into whatever is left of my soul, along with the happiness on your face.'

'Like I said, I was pretending. You must have turned away before Hunt carried me to the dining room table. But if you hadn't, you may have realised why I couldn't walk there myself. My foot was bandaged. It had nothing to do with love.'

Heath said, 'I thought you had made your choice.'

'Never, I spent days in the bedsit crying over you before Greta came and found me. I was whisked away to Switzerland that weekend, it's true. But I planned to find you the moment I could walk again.'

Kate looked down at her muddy boots. The horses, sheltered, were ready to move again.

Kate stood up.

Heath grabbed hold of her wrist.

'Leave him. I cannot be without you.'

'Nor I you,' Kate said. 'But I have made a promise and I cannot just walk out on that promise. Not right now.'

'What about your promise to me?'

'You left me. I can't just…abandon the family who have been good to me.' She paused, 'Please, will you come to dinner tonight? We can talk after Hunt has gone to bed. He knows I think of you … fondly.'

Heath laughed.

'Hunt will do anything, at the moment, to please me.'

'Anything? Why?'

He looked at Kate's face.

Kate blinked and sat down.

'I must have stood up too quickly,' she said.

He studied her more closely, blood rising in her cheeks. He'd seen this look before. A girl he'd hung out with in New York, a waitress who became a friend and worked in one of the clubs where he'd played had been dating a guitarist. After they left the club they got married and she had a child six months later.

Perhaps Heath knew Kate so well he knew before she did. She reached out her hand to him and pulled him close to her. His hearing had become extremely good since he'd turned. It was one of the advantages of becoming immortal. He sunk to his knees and pressed his head into her chest. He could hear conversations through walls so why not babies through skin? The two heartbeats pounded his ear as she slumped into him - Kate's and the heartbeat of her unborn child. He felt sick to his stomach and twice as betrayed as she attempted to take his hand.

'Please, come to dinner at The Grange. I have to see you again and I can't put off the dinner party I promised Annabelle we'd have. She will be thrilled that you are to be the guest of honour.'

He flinched and moved away from Kate as she moved closer.

'Annabelle? Is she still living here?'

'Yes, The Grange is half hers, Heath.'

'Oh,' Heath said, disinterestedly.

'She's finished her Art Course and has her first commission to paint some houses in this borough. She's staying with us for a few months.' Kate added.

Heath backed away from the woman he loved more than himself, with a blank expression. He wasn't ready to give her up.

'I'll be over in the car at about eight,' he said dispassionately. 'After all, Hunt should meet his new neighbour.'

**Chapter Twenty-three**

_**Return**_

The car was sleek and black. Heath loved it above the others. He'd made so much money these last few years, more than he could ever need or want and he was surprised it hadn't made him happy.

'_There is nothing in the world that will make up for a lack of real friends and family,'_ Greta said to him once, when he was a child. He knew it to be true as he slumped into his bath, took his plasma capsules and washed them down with red wine. He'd wolfed down a roasted pheasant when he returned from his meeting with Kate, his mind reeling.

The previous week, Harrison was asleep in a heap at the table when a knock on the door woke him. Most of the staff had left by the time Heath arrived at Hareton Hall. He was surprised he'd left for America without telling his sister about the house.

'What are you doing here?' Harrison slurred, surprised when Heath hovered at the doorstep.

'Come in,' Greta said, 'I was just leaving.'

Heath smiled quietly. Harrison could not prevent his entry now that he'd been formally invited in.

'I gave you six weeks to get out, Harrison. You can either stay on and look after the stables or take your stuff and leave.'

'How dare you? I haven't told my wife or Hinton…'

Unbeknownst to them, Harrison had been gambling in a disreputable part of the West End most evenings. Heath and some of his work colleagues had seen him going from one establishment to another until Heath himself had challenged him to a game of poker where the wager on the house had been set in front of at least a dozen witnesses. Still, Heath reasoned, he hadn't forced him to sign the legal documents. Harrison had done that of his own accord.

'Well, you'd better tell them soon. I just came to drop off some belongings and pick up my suit…'

'You mean my father's?'

'He was my father too.'

'Adopted,' Harrison added slyly.

'Yes, and the only father I have known…a quality you would know nothing about. I have no idea how you could possibly imagine I'd be your…blood relation. Oh, that's right, you knew I wasn't. Thank you for finally ruining our happiness. You never heard such a conversation as you detailed to me in that note…did you?'

'Of course not, mother wanted to leave. She knew father had not had an affair with your mother. It was not his way. He was honourable.'

Heath moved quickly this time. Though Harrison was tough he was amazed at the strength in Heath's hands as he had him in a headlock on the kitchen table. Then he moved closer and Heath (although drunk by midday as usual) swore he saw fangs emerge from the man's mouth and moaned and screamed for mercy as Heath threw him, using all the strength he had to resist savaging him, onto the footpath by the scruff of his neck, like an animal.

When Harrison relayed the story to his psychiatrist days later, the doctor recommended stronger medication.

Harrison had been so shocked, he could barely speak. When he did, it was more of a whisper as Heath detailed the terms of his ownership…

'You'll come to a bad end charity case… even with all your new money.'

Heath threw Harrison's suitcase on the landing outside the door.

'That's just the kind of statement I'd expect from a daylight drunk. You have a wife and a child to support. Maybe you should start thinking about how you're going to do that after going through father's millions. Face it Harrison, this day was always going to come…'

'Am I really supposed to believe that you did all this because you lost Kate?' Harrison bawled.

'I'm serving you notice, Harrison. Either accept my offer to stay on as groom until you find a job, something that goes above and beyond what is legally expected of me - and you, Frances and Hinton can have the cottage - or leave. You have two hours to decide.'

Heath brushed past him as he walked to his car.

Harrison banged his fist on the window as Heath placed the keys in the ignition.

'You really are something, aren't you, Heath Spencer. I did you a favour when I kept you away from Kate, when I insinuated the truth of your dubious heritage.'

'You mean, made it up. Yes, something I'm eternally grateful for. You know nothing about my history, as you put it, but the thought of having you as a blood relation made my stomach turn. I got tested. Kate and I share no biological relation but we have always been of like mind. Perhaps that is stronger than biology. All you did Harrison, was spend enough energy to keep Kate and me apart… for a while, but not forever.'

'She's married to someone else.'

'Not for long. Get your stuff and take it to the guest house. You're lucky Hinton's so young or I'd show no mercy and throw you out on the street.'

Harrison pitched a rock at Heath's car but the alcohol had damaged his balance and it missed, smashing a window of the house instead.

'You nearly hit me,' Heath said, rolling down the window. 'I'll add that to your debts, shall I?'

Harrison slumped to the gravel.

'It's mid-afternoon Harrison,' Heath said. 'Get yourself sobered up.'

'You…you clean yourself up!' Harrison bawled.

Heath heard the older man screaming at him as he drove off in his sleek sports car. Harrison wobbled out of the house with a shot gun that he was too drunk to point in the right direction. Threats hardly bothered Heath. He'd proved himself impervious to bullets. Heath considered feeling bad for Harrison as he drove off, but he couldn't. The years of cruelty Harrison had inflicted on him as a child made pity impossible. Now the captive would become the captor. He did not worry for his own soul or for Kate's anymore. Their fates were linked, he was sure of it.

**Chapter Twenty-four**

_**Dinner Party **_

Heath stayed in Hampstead that night, at the pub he later bought.

I had the dated receipt amongst his letters**.** Harrison had agreed to leave The Hall the next day. He'd delivered a note to Heath at the pub and was taking the family on a trip, with what remained of his assets. They would arrange to have their belongings collected. Heath was officially the owner of Hareton Hall and Harrison had finally woken up sober.

In any case, Heath did not wish to return to his home that night. He'd always liked the old pub overlooking the grounds of Hampstead Heath and had a notion, with his new found wealth, to buy it.

He pulled a Savile Row suit, newly tailored, from the wardrobe. Heath needed to look his best tonight. He showered, combed his hair, drank some Magenta and cleaned his teeth. There were few things that interested him less than fashion but he was determined to make an effort for this dinner party. He felt good to go as he grabbed his room key and walked down the stairs to his car.

Heath arrived at The Grange soon after to find it lit up magnificently. The Georgian house was as fine as Kenwood House but The Grange, being tucked behind a veil of trees, was more secure and not open to the public. It was the palace Heath and Kate had grown up alongside, but Heath thought, with some minor alterations, Hareton Hall would be grander.

The invitation was for a dinner party of sorts. Kate, Hunt, Annabelle and himself were to be the only guests.

Heath was the last to arrive.

Annabelle had spent hours getting ready that night. She wore a long, blue, figure hugging dress that reached to her ankles. To match her sparkling designer heels, she wore an expensive diamond necklace that had been handed down through generations of Hunts.

The round dining room table was set grandly as though they were entertaining a guest of honour rather than an old friend. The chandeliers were on full power and candles were lit in rows on the wall, highlighting the minimalist design. The interiorshad been recently renovated. It was a house that had always haunted Heath and compelled Kate.

When Heath rang the doorbell, expecting the butler or housekeeper to greet him, he was surprised that Kate opened the door herself and invited him in. She stood there, in a red velvet jacket, black jeans and fresh boots. Her hair hung in ringlets down her back and she looked like a girl who'd just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Kate's stomach was flat and there was not a hint of her pregnancy, although she realised she should probably have warned Heath about Katarina, since there were family photographs all over the lounge room.

'Being richer suits you,' Heath said, pushing past her and making his way into the hallway.

Kate looked at Heath and smiled, ignoring his insinuation. The girl greeted him like an old friend, a little too warmly to be a favourite brother and a little too enthusiastically for Hunt's liking.

Edmund Hunt, seated in the drawing room, was finalizing his applications to law school and reading over the notes he'd written. He had been warned by Kate to be civil. His marriage, still in its early days, was fragile. Their child, Katarina, lay sleeping upstairs. Kate had not mentioned her to Heath but her photographs were dotted all over the drawing room. Edmund Hunt, desperate to please his wife, was on his best behaviour. Hunt was aware that of the two of them, he was the one who loved more.

Edmund still couldn't believe Kate had agreed to marry him. He knew banning her from seeing Heath at this point would never work. Trying to convince Kate the man was beneath her would also be hopeless. Kate, although raised with generations of old money, had never really set aside her obsession with Heath. Hunt was aware that his money and class would never be enough to compete with Kate's childhood obsession. In Hunt's view, possession was nine tenths of the law and Kate was his now. Their soon to be born child made him sure of this.

Annabelle had dressed formally for the occasion, Kate noticed. Whilst it had recently been no surprise to see her in jeans and an old, paint-splattered shirt, her sister-in-law was dressed to kill. Belle had also spent the afternoon at the hairdresser's having her blonde hair foiled and waved in the latest celebrity style.

Kate worried about her, and not for the reasons Annabelle suspected. Jealousy was not an emotion Kate felt easily and certainly not in the direction of Annabelle. But she suspected, or really had always known that Annabelle remained infatuated with Heath. His contempt for all her sister-in-law stood for (inherited wealth, class distinction, the divide between him and Kate) would run deeper and extend to contempt for Annabelle.

Heath's pallor seemed tanned; his clothes were tailored and expensive. Annabelle had done some research and informed Kate that he owned companies all over town. Kate had barely listened. She was unimpressed by the way Heath had brought Harrison low, even though she knew how much Harrison deserved it.

Heath was dressed in a formal suit under a pure cashmere overcoat. Only Kate knew the scarf he wore was her own. To Annabelle, who was sitting in the bay window seat - the same place Kate had sat in when she was recovering after the skiing incident, waiting or rather pining for Heath - this would not register.

Heath thought Kate looked like a movie star as he hovered in the hall. He tried to ignore her as he casually glanced at the photographs on the walls. Annabelle shone in the background, but he paid her scant attention in that moment. When his eyes had finished glancing at Kate's infant daughter (she looked to be about one in the photograph), Heath glanced back at Kate, then Annabelle.

Kate withdrew to the kitchen as Annabelle raced up to Heath, enthusiastically. Heath stood formally in the hallway.

'Hello Annabelle.'

'Hello Heath,' Annabelle replied happily. 'May I take your coat?'

Normally, the butler would have done this, but Annabelle had been quick to the mark after Greta wished them all good night and given the staff the night off. Annabelle took Heath's scarf and placed it on the hall table not far from Katarina's baby picture which Heath appeared not to notice.

When Annabelle reached over to take Heath's coat, he turned around quicker than she anticipated. To her surprise and delight, just as she was going to greet him with the customary European air kiss on both cheeks, he kissed her on the mouth instead. Heath showed no expression as Annabelle blushed again and stumbled to the coat rack feeling as light as air.

The visitor smiled warmly. 'You are looking lovely tonight, Annabelle,' he said. Annabelle was excited to hear her name spoken in his velvet voice. 'It's been too long. I haven't seen you in years,' he added.

Annabelle smiled shyly and blushed at the warm greeting and unexpected compliment she had received.

'We thought you had forgotten us,' Annabelle said, pretending to be slightly put out as they walked through to the drawing room.

'Not exactly, I work in finance now. My work took me… to America.'

'I read about you in the paper today: financial wiz kid and all that. They posted a lot of details in the article. Apparently you are the most sought after bachelor in England. You should have stayed in touch,' Annabelle beamed.

'Well, the important thing is I'm back in touch now,' he said, staring directly into her eyes.

Annabelle continued, 'and then I read all about how much money you donate to charity…'

'For tax purposes,' Heath added modestly.

Annabelle ignored his response and whispered, 'I always knew you were a good person, Heath.'

Heath rolled his eyes when no one was looking and loosened his tie. His mouth watered when he smelled the steaks sizzling in the kitchen. Kate, dressed in an old-fashioned apron and playing chef, began to worry that trusting Heath to be civil tonight was a mistake. However, concerned she might lose contact with him altogether and unable to face the thought, she had hastily taken the risk to combine the three people now closest to her in the same room.

'I'm sorry not to have kept in touch, Annabelle. I suppose…real life gets in the way,' Heath added, changing the subject as Annabelle handed him a glass of red wine.

Hunt stood up when Heath entered the room as Kate re-introduced the men. They shook hands and talked about the stock market as Heath's gaze wandered, drinking in the family portraits.

During dinner, where Heath was most amiable to Hunt and Kate, it was as if the seductive kiss between him and Annabelle had never happened.

The first course was heating on the stove. Greta had left all the instructions as she departed but Kate kept getting up to check on everything. The table had been set perfectly and Heath recognised Greta's hand in all of the decorations. He knew Kate must have wanted the night to be perfect for some reason. Perhaps she somehow expected his re-introduction to the family would be a happy occasion.

Kate, who had been finalizing the sketches for Annabelle's play, had little to do with the domestic running of the house. She had been avidly researching the best food to serve at dinner parties…and the recipe for Heath's favourite dish of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

Heath walked into the kitchen, leaving brother and sister alone to chat after demolishing the first course of lobster soup. Heath offered to bring the plates and stack them in the sink. It was the first time he'd ever done menial work in a kitchen since Greta had allowed him to wipe the dishes as a six-year-old. He'd done it so badly she never asked him again. He disliked kitchen tasks but for tonight, he'd made an exception. He knew women actually liked men who pretended to be domesticated and he was keen to impress Annabelle. Heath found it funny because he thought Kate would have to be out of her mind to really be fooled by his act, but she played along.

Kate smiled, 'This is all going remarkably well, considering.'

'I'm not sure what you mean,' Heath said.

Kate leaned in and whispered, 'considering you hate my husband.'

Heath looked into her eyes, 'I don't hate him. The thought of him barely enters my mind. By the way, I saw the family portrait. How old is your daughter?'

'Katarina is just a toddler.'

'Don't you think I should meet her?'

'Not tonight. She's asleep.'

Heath shrugged. Kate sighed disbelievingly as she took the dinner plates from the top shelf above the stove. Heath looked on impatiently studying Kate's perfect curves as she retrieved various forks and spoons. The desire to plunge his retracted fangs into her neck, the curve in her arm, the crease behind her knee - demolish her altogether - was more intense than ever.

'Anything else I can do?' Heath asked standing close to her. 'I have to say, I thought Hunt would have more…staff.'

'Don't be stupid, Heath. Greta only comes in because I begged her not to leave me. Most of the servants quit ages ago. Hardly anyone in London has servants anymore. We barely afford the groom even though Hunt is, as you know, comfortable.'

Heath laughed.

'Is that meant to be a joke? '

Kate sighed. 'Of course I understand how fortunate we are. I volunteer at the local charity now.'

'Listen to you. You sound so…pious.'

'It's more than you've ever done.'

'True, but then I was born a little closer to the poverty line than you were and it's not a place I relished. Anyway, you needn't be so proud of your ability to marry well and your husband's ability to inherit money.'

'You think I married well? I thought you'd abandoned me Heath. What was I supposed to do? You disappeared for three years.' she whispered, wary that Annabelle and Edmund might hear.

'Yes, that was…unfortunate.'

'That's an understatement. If you need to blame someone, you should at least partly blame yourself.'

Heath reached for Kate when he was sure the others were in conversation in the other room. He leant in to her hair as he used to when they were younger and she hugged him, greedily, expectantly, wanting more.

Then, just as he contemplated kissing her perfect lips, he spoke.

'Oh Kate,' Heath shook his head. 'I'm just imagining what a boring little country wife you have become…'

Kate pushed him away.

'Stop it Heath, you're being horrible…'

Heath laughed softly.

'What did you expect when you invited me here?' he whispered.

'Why are we whispering? Never mind…' Kate stacked the pudding dishes. 'I just wanted us to have…'

'What,' he whispered, 'an evening reminiscing? Like the good old days! Did you hide the shot guns? Hunt can barely hide his disdain for having to dine with the help…'

'That's not fair, he's not a snob…he was…thrilled I'd invited you home.'

'I can't believe you're sticking up for him.' She was close to him now. He heard the heart beats and spoke out of turn, accusingly.

'You're pregnant aren't you? That's why you won't leave him,' Heath said as he transported the spoons to the tray.

'Heath…he's…'

'He's what? Your husband…the man you preferred to sleep with over me? The man you…love? Does he know you married him for his money, _because_ of a misunderstanding with me?'

'Now, you're being nasty…' Kate whispered, cautioning him with her intonation.

'Only now?' he replied.

Just then, Annabelle came wandering in, her long skirt floating into the room behind her as if she were part of an intangible mirage or some bizarre circus. She smiled at Heath, unable to contain her thrill at being in the same vicinity as this unknowable, beautiful man. The wind outside the kitchen windows groaned across the grounds of the estate. Winter air that had turned to a deep chill over the last few days warned them of the icy weather and snow soon to follow.

Heath felt the chill then smiled again at Annabelle. 'I don't miss the cold. America is warmer. By the way, I was just telling Kate how lovely you look tonight, Annabelle.'

'Thank you.' Annabelle said, clearly thrilled but obviously surprised to be complimented so publicly.

'I can see this is not going to be simple,' Kate said under her breath as she opened the oven door.

'Let me help you with that,' Heath said, obligingly. 'Kate was never one for the kitchen,' he said to Annabelle, 'and we wouldn't want you lifting anything heavy in your condition.'

Annabelle beamed, 'Isn't it exciting?'

'Very,' Heath said.

'Kate's told you…'

'I guessed,' Heath responded. The sound of the tiny heartbeat drummed in Heath's ears as soon as he was close to Kate. He wanted to savage her and was sated only by a double dose of Magenta before he arrived. Annabelle gazed at Heath warmly. She was thinking what an amiable and successful man he had become.

Hunt, sitting at the dining room table patiently, was closing the half opened window as Kate returned with the gravy boat.

'Darling, I told you we should have kept the staff tonight,' he said, deluded about the rising cost of living.

'It's just friends, Edmund. I didn't want anything to be formal.'

Now it was Edmund's turn to roll his eyes.

'I rather think I would have sooner entertained a rapper or a recently paroled dealer…'

'Shh…' Kate said. 'Heath is a guest… he's family.'

'He's not _my_ family,' Hunt said as Heath entered the room. It wasn't his style to pretend not to hear, to play the upper class games Kate's family were raised playing, but for tonight he would make an exception. All would continue along smoothly, for the moment.

They talked of old school acquaintances and the stock market. Edmund, steadied by Katherine, had been warned not to discuss the missing years of their lives.

Hunt boasted of Kate's brief but shining design of the classic play being talked about in the London theatre world and congratulated Heath on his obvious business successes.

'Yes,' Heath said, 'and, I'm sure Kate has told you, I'm…as of three minutes ago… the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

Hunt raised his eyebrows and looked shocked. Then he looked directly at Kate.

'Darling, you never told me this.'

Kate looked surprised. 'I only just found out…'

'Harrison lost it in a bet…and now, it's mine…' Heath added as Annabelle scooped raspberry coulis over her ice-cream. Not entirely oblivious to the family drama, she looked up wide-eyed. It was exciting that Heath was to be their newest neighbour. She would get to see him regularly. And now that Kate was married, her sister-in-law couldn't resent their friendship. Annabelle smiled warmly at Heath over her pudding. Heath looked at the raspberry sauce and imagined drinking her blood.

'But I thought… Oh, I still have a few of the pictures I was commissioned to make, left to do…of the Hall…'

'And you shall,' Heath added jubilantly.

Kate looked up, 'Would anyone like coffee?' she asked, trying to change the subject.

'Yes, please,' Heath said. 'I find myself absolutely starving for pudding, and I never eat sweets. That must have been the finest meal you've ever cooked tonight, Kate. What an excellent little wife you've made…the second time around,' he said condescendingly.

Hunt stared at him. 'We didn't ask you here to insult us,' he said.

'Mmm,' Heath replied, 'well, you didn't ask me here at all, did you?'

'Heath,' Kate cautioned.

'No, it must be said, out with it. Kate's _my_ wife now, not yours.'

Heath just looked at him and laughed.

'Yes, well, I can see by the light on her wedding ring - nearly knocked me out when we ran into each other riding yesterday. Oh, that's right. You weren't wearing one, were you?' Heath said sarcastically.

Kate shook her head.

'Let's all go into the drawing room and have a drink,' Annabelle suggested.

'Actually,' Heath announced as he stood up, 'I find I'm tired after all my…acquisitions today.' He looked straight at Kate, then at Annabelle.

'I trust you know you will be welcome at Hareton Hall anytime, Annabelle, to finish your paintings and photographs. The same goes for my new neighbours. Perhaps we could go riding again soon Kate.'

Kate looked up. In the still and without distractions, he could read her mind, _'Don't…'_ she thought, _'don't tell him…that I love you more…even after the fact that you've succeeded in making a fool out of me tonight…'_

Hunt looked at Kate, surprised she had already been socializing with this man who he had feared, it must be said, admired yes, and as a school boy, hated… Though now, he felt a slight twinge of pity for the person who was so evidently in love with what was his.

Later that night, Kate lay awake, reading one of her favourite novels, _Jane Eyre_. She read about the delusional woman in the attic, the first wife and wondered how much of the crazy it took to send a woman mad. Her husband had tossed and turned after Heath left but he had no inkling of the power Heath had over her, of how torn she now was. Underneath, she longed to be only with Heath.

That was how little Edmund understood her.

And who knew? Maybe it was a marriage of convenience, just as Heath had insinuated. Their partnership was a merge of her finances and Edmund's property. But what choice did she have back then?

Kate lay awake for hours in the dark, thinking about Annabelle's loving glances towards Heath at the dinner table. It would be a lie to say, as she tossed and turned all night, she didn't have any inkling what Heath might do next.

**Chapter Twenty-five**

_**Scholarship - Present Day**_

Slowly, Katarina and Hinton became friends.

WhenKatarina arrived at Hareton Hall at nine in the morning to help Hinton revise his written applications for the Art prize, she felt a pool of excitement in the pit of her stomach. She could hardly wait to see him again. Hinton had confided in her that he thought his written skills were lacking and Katarina had offered to help him present, "the best possible version of himself", as she put it. He had readily accepted and together they made a first draft.

The Hall, once the grandest of houses, had creeping plants growing from its foundations now, as if it were slowly crumbling from the inside. Over the past few months, the wiring needed fixing, the swimming pool had grown thick with leaves, the tennis court was left untended and the stables were nearly empty. The owner had become more and more reclusive.

Hinton didn't want to tell her why he'd felt a desire stronger than any natural one to drink blood. It was a one in ten thousand possibility, according to Heath's specialist, but somehow his condition matched that of his adopted parent. A trace had been done and it seemed somehow Hinton and Heath shared the same affliction.

Their lineage, a distant, improbable vampire link, was not all they had in common. Hinton and Heath shared a desire to feed, a fear of the sunlight and their own fading images in mirrors. Heath's was now an outline and soon there would be nothing. Today, Hinton's image in the hallway mirror had dulled considerably. Instead of a medallion, Hinton wore a signet ring that Heath had given him when he was small, to protect him from the sun. Hinton resolved not to focus on the negatives of his condition.

The winner of the scholarship was due to receive an apartment and a small stipend abroad. Prague would be darker and rainier than many places and Hinton quite liked the idea of that kind of weather, for obvious reasons. He wanted to get away. Still, only one person from the whole college would be chosen on the strength of their exhibit.

Katarina had insisted on taking him in her new car for lunch in Hampstead High Street. Her father had bought the car for her as a bribe for choosing to study in London instead of travelling far from home. Previously, the thought of Katarina leaving him was something her loving father had found nearly impossible to bear. Katarina, having recently turned eighteen, was experiencing a freedom she had longed for after passing her driving test. The girl was yet to tell her father that she had become friendly with Heath, Linus and Hinton. That was an "off limits" conversation.

It was a beautiful day, rare and summery, like the ones her father had told her about when she was first born. In those days, when she was a child, she vaguely remembered her young mother taking her to Hampstead Heath for picnics. Her studious father would hold her hand, walk her across the road and teach her to ride. When she was old enough she rode park trails on her pony and later, her horse. By the time she was a teenager, she'd become an expert, riding properly in various events on Hero's Daughter.

When Katarina asked about her mother's family, all her father told her was that he'd never been fond of Heath as a child. He grew up with nannies and in boarding schools as men of his class and in his generation did but repeatedly told Katarina he loved her - something his own family had never said to him. Katarina knew this was true and that he meant well. He had tried not to burden her with this now adult concept of his quiet, contained, isolated youth but one day he told his daughter something that surprised her.

'I never saw my parents show any affection to one another,' he told Katarina when they were out riding together.

'Something of an overshare, Papa,' she'd replied.

Katarina realised how different her upbringing had been from her father's.

How strange and quiet the heath had become in winter, her father thought, when he first bundled this little girl up and took her for long walks to Kenwood House. As she grew older, and had her own nanny, the family would often go for picnics in the grounds of the heath. Though the gardens of their own house were magnificent, Hunt wanted Katarina to have the normal childhood that had eluded him, or as normal as it was possible for her to have, so he took her exploring.

Being in his daughter's company pleased Edmund Hunt endlessly. He remembered so many dinners with his own father, separated by an expanse of dining room table. He was never allowed to chatter during meals. He determined to raise Katarina differently. Together they played a game called… _What if? _From the time Katarina could talk she was encouraged to ask questions: '_What if the world was coloured pink? What if the grass was blue? What if Mummy hadn't left?'_ This question ended the game. There were some questions Hunt wouldn't answer.

As she grew older he worried for her and for himself. His daughter was sweet-natured and generous. She had gifted him further understanding of the world beyond his front door. Katarina made Hunt see life for what it was, rather than in isolation and in relation to his needs and those of his family. He knew he loved her so much he would never be able to say "no" to her and dreaded the day she would ask him for something he could not or did not wish to give her.

Like the truth.

The morning Katarina and Hinton decided to drive over to Hampstead High Street, the place, busy with post-Christmas bargain hunters, was busy. Together they sat in the French patisserie and ordered coffee, sandwiches and sweet cakes. Hinton barely ate in her presence and when he did, he picked the chicken off his plate and chewed that first.

'Do you know why our families don't speak?' Katarina asked as she stirred sugar into her latte.

'Age old feud,' Hinton said. 'I think Linus knows the whole story. I only know my version of it. I'm sure your father would have a different account of what happened.'

'He wouldn't be happy if he knew we were all in contact, that's for sure. But I'm so glad you and Linus and I are friends.'

'Is that what we are?' Hinton looked at her quickly, wondering for a moment if she would say something more.

In response, Katarina looked into his eyes as Hinton took her hand. His fingers were pleasantly cool.

'I want to…thank you for helping me so much.'

Hinton slipped a tiny packet in the saucer of her tea cup. The envelope contained a delicate, gold bracelet with the initials KH carved on the inside. It must have cost Hinton at least a month of the wages he'd earned, working at the pub.

Katarina smiled as Hinton helped her to fasten the clasp around her wrist.

'Thank you,' she said, finishing her toast. Then she did something that surprised him. Katarina leant over and kissed him with her honey lips.

Hinton's face flushed red. He wasn't really sure what to say next. He'd dated girls, lots of them, but he'd never felt for anyone the way he felt for Katarina. He shyly took her hand and kissed it.

They had been reading together every day. Heath still got the odd word the wrong way round, but had improved considerably. He was sure the extra study he did with the tutor he'd hired (encouraged by Katarina) had gone a long way to making words much easier for him to read. His world had opened up and he was less afraid of what the future held when she was near. He didn't want to let go of her fingers.

'Over these months …you helped me to have some confidence, not just in reading, but in…myself.'

Katarina was speechless. She had looked forward to every moment she spent with Hinton walking through Hampstead and working together in the studio in Soho. He dreaded what he had to tell her so instead he passed her some documents.

'You need to read something,' Hinton said, 'before you decide if you want to…be my girlfriend…'

Katarina smiled, it was the first time he'd used that word. Then she frowned, what possible barrier stood in the way of this, her first real romance?

Hinton passed her his medical records.

'You need to be aware,' he said, 'that I'm not…normal.'

Katarina looked at him quizzically, unsure of the correct response. Hinton got up and left the coffee shop as Katarina opened the cover of the first folder marked: **Type A Requirements**.

Later that day, Hinton was in the college studio, quietly painting. He had a small supply of Magenta that he kept in the student common room kitchen in a flask. He quietly sucked on lunch through a straw. Since he'd turned twenty-one his desire for human blood had been overwhelming but this daily treat of Magenta kept it at bay. Vampiricism was another reason he and his uncle both liked and loathed each other.

Heath had been the first to identify him as a fellow bloodsucker. Hinton had been so full of self-loathing he was almost glad Harrison and Franny had never lived to see him develop from hybrid to vampire. Harrison had drunk himself to death in his early thirties and his wife, Frances, had been killed in a nightclub in Paris at the age of twenty-six. That's how Hinton wound up with Heath. It was discovered Heath and Frances (remarkably) shared a supernatural gene. Although Heath had not been biologically related to Harrison or Kate, he was a very distant cousin (two hundred years removed) to Frances and Hinton.

Hinton didn't share Heath's passion for chicken but he gnawed on a cooked chop that had been specially marinated, pan fried and wrapped in foil. He'd left Katarina with the open folder on her desk and didn't want to think about what her reaction might be.

Hinton painted freely. He was sure with brush strokes in a way that he had never been with words. He disliked any form of authority but was aware of his need to improve his basic reading skills. He was embarrassed to be this age, to be this bright (he had no trouble comprehending the world and had a photographic memory for numbers and people's names…), yet to still be such a terrible reader was confronting. He'd long ago accepted his daily need for blood but he was ashamed of his lack of education. He'd stuttered as a child and somehow he'd overcome this affliction in his teens. If Katarina believed in him, he felt sure, with her help, he could overcome his wicked desires.

He liked the solitude of the studio, deep in the quiet hub of the empty Art College.

Nobody was here late in the afternoon and there was not a soul to suggest changes to what he was creating. He thought of Katarina and checked the messages on his mobile; nothing. He wondered what she was thinking but didn't want to press her until she had fully digested what the words in that folder meant.

They'd been working on abstract expressionism in class, but for the first time in weeks Hinton's brush seemed to have a mind of its own as he removed the drying artwork from his desk and set to work on a blank canvas attached to a wooden easel.

He sketched the outline from a photograph taken on his mobile but then he relied on the memory of her perfect face. As if writing a first draft, he sketched with abandon, adding the base with great ease and little emphasis on detail. But then, as the hours wore on, and afternoon became evening, he built the intricate shades of colour that became skin on his subject's neck. The textures made him uneasy. Still, with no answer from the girl, his first layer of the image was becoming more complex, like a photograph of Katarina's face. Hinton leaned in and painted two perfect red dots on the paper frail skin above her collar bone. Then he bowed his head in his hands and sighed.

That afternoon, Katarina re-read Hinton's file.

It was less shocking than she'd suspected.

The word 'blood' stood out in all its satin, red stained essence.

The description of Hinton's "type" was unusual but not conclusive. For years now, there had been talk in the press about a rogue species; human-vampires. Born with a weak strain of vampiricism, they developed fully over a period of time and into adulthood. It was different for males and females. The females could linger for up to twenty years in hibernation and it was impossible to tell the difference between hybrids and human beings. Katarina had not taken as much notice as she should have but she remembered these details from a recent article on the web.

She wanted to discover as many facts as she could; she wanted to find out what this strain meant for them and how she could help. Regardless of words on paper, Hinton was still Hinton. Katarina realized this as she read the doctor's dramatic introduction: _he may not sleep at night, he may not wish to eat…it may be possible he lives far beyond the years of normal humans… _The words "immortality", "bloodsucker", "vanished", "feeding", "type A", "hunger", "forever", jumped out at her on the page. Katarina resolved to do some more research that evening.

Upon waking, after Katarina had had a few hours' sleep and the enormity of Hinton's condition had set in, Hinton would be greeted with the message - **it's okay. I love you and that doesn't change. I want to help in any way possible. Meet you tomorrow afternoon Hareton Hall. **

Katarina was determined to finish her Art folio the next day (of a series of photographs of Hareton Hall) using different levels of light. The girl also intended to start reading the files and finish the journals. She knew there was a secret that went beyond Hinton. The hush ran through the family. There had been whispers of a human-hybrid species for years in the media, but no one she ever knew had met an actual vampire; whole or hybrid. They kept to themselves, or maybe they just hid in the shadows.

Hinton, in retrospect, had displayed all the symptoms she'd researched on the web upon waking. His specialist had scrawled in the files… 'The young man has cravings for protein, then citrus, then…animal blood…which may develop upon adulthood as a craving for humans…' Katarina looked away. Further details were in the files that she forced herself to read.

The boy displayed a nocturnal instinct as a child. He'd tried to bite his own mother (at birth) and she had declared him 'impossible' to raise.

It was true. Hinton had gravitated towards Heath as a child. His sister, Frances, had stayed at the Hall briefly until she fled to Paris. Harrison had been discovered trying to beat Hinton with a stick, before he drank himself into oblivion. That part was true; it was like history repeating itself.

Katarina was surprised as she read the social worker's reports sitting in the car. Her desire to help and protect Hinton grew stronger with every sentence.

**Chapter Twenty-six**

_**Secrets**_

When Katarina arrived at The Hall the next afternoon, Heath was out riding and no one answered the door. Since she'd never met her mother as an adult, she relied on the memories of others. In her bag, she kept her fine cashmere scarf, and longed for more information about the woman in the photographs. Katarina knew there were many images of the young Kate in the boxes hidden in the cupboard. The man who had loved her, perhaps as much as her father (if not more), kept these images tucked away, hidden, along with her mother's memory.

Katarina got out of her car. She wore a scarlet coat today and the fierce, biting air made her catch her breath as she walked up to the house. Her dark curls fell in ringlets down her back. The girl took out her mother's old-fashioned film camera. The camera took amazing photographs and she wanted the particular effect film could create. Katarina snapped The Hall in the morning light, from a distance, then close up on the door handle as the gargoyles threatened her.

There was an eerie creak, ever present, when Katarina tiptoed into the house.

Heath suddenly stomped in through the kitchen, taking off his muddy boots in the larder.

'Who's there?' he bawled.

'Just me,' Katarina said softly.

'Oh,' he replied, 'I'd forgotten you were coming. Don't go to the top floor…renovations,' he grumbled, hurrying upstairs to shower and change.

'I just wanted to take your picture…'

'No…' he replied quickly.

He'd always refused to have his photograph taken. It would be a pointless exercise but Katarina was not to know that. She had begun to get used to his mercurial personality and shrugged to herself as she wandered through The Hall. Tucked in a corner, she discovered the Blue Room, which was lit with soft lights, chandeliers hanging from the roof and a hall of mirrors. It was so amazing it had once been featured in architectural magazines.

The girl wandered through the room catching sight of Heath ushering his dog out of the library. As Katarina glanced into the wall of reflections, hers was there but Heath's was missing. Of course, Katarina thought. The strangeness filled her world.

Katarina was nervous, but as she created art by snapping photographs, her nerves disappeared. By mid-morning, it helped that she had not seen a vision of the woman who'd appeared the night of the storm, nor had she heard her. Silence was littered by the sound of paper being ripped and thrown in the rubbish bin once Heath returned from walking the dog. There was a ray of light under the door of Heath's library and Katarina got the feeling he did not wish to be disturbed.

Minutes later, the silence was marked by the loud noise Katarina made, as she unlocked her mother's bedroom with Hinton's key. Inside, the room was all but empty. It was like a danceless ballroom with billowing long curtains in place of skirts and open windows and a wet floor where the rain had swept in, for company. As she stood, breathless, sensing a visitor apart from herself, Katarina heard a chewing sound and a striped boiled sweet wrapper fell from the ceiling onto her hair, like a feather.

Immediately, Katarina looked up; nothing. She noticed the floor around her feet was littered with discarded candy wrappers. They had dropped from the shadows in the roof. Katarina peered closer. In the corner of the large room there was a pile of messy, muddied, riding clothes. The jodhpurs and a jacket appeared to have been recently worn and discarded. As Katarina went to touch the fabric, a bird screeched outside the window. Katarina jumped. She wanted to take a closer look inside the room when she heard a voice behind her and a man took her arm.

'I told you not to go in here,' Heath said.

He was standing to her right, fully dressed for the office.

'Whose clothes?'

Heath led her out of the room.

'Please…just ignore what you see here. Most of it is…old washing. Greta must have left it. I've made us some tea.'

Katarina was so stunned she followed meekly. The interior of the room loomed behind like a secret as they walked downstairs.

Heath seemed oblivious to the anomalies of Hareton Hall. In the kitchen, he was more interested in demolishing the honey soy chicken drumsticks Greta had left sealed in a dish. He ate at least three of these while Katarina stood there, sipping tea, even though it was barely mid-morning.

They observed the view from the parlour of a now famous statue of one of their ancestors (an author or poet, no doubt, Katty thought) that was all but obscured behind a fence. Occasionally, tourists stopped by in summer to take photographs. Sometimes the iron gates would open quicker than they realised and usher those same tourists out of the way. Who knows what these tourists had really seen through the windows.

'I never planned to open the house and grounds up to the public, but with the worldwide financial situation, my advisors convinced me it was the smart thing to do. I want this house to stay in the family…forever,' he added quietly.

Katarina changed the film in her camera as they sat at the table watching day turn to dusk.

'May I?' Katarina took Heath's photograph as he turned to take his car keys from the fruit ball. The crystal bowl was full of peaches and Italian oranges.

'Hinton told me you know our secret. You must have worked it out by now. You can take as many photographs of me as you like. The images won't come out. I have to go to my office, there's something going on at work. Greta is coming around soon. Don't return to the rooms upstairs. They're locked now. Just shut the door when you leave,' Heath said, offering no further explanation. Not fond of idle chit chat, he stood up and walked away.

Katarina was left to ponder her predicament. Then she remembered that Hinton told her he used to scale the wall to his room when he was a child.

Katarina wandered outside. The gardens grew wild. According to her mother's journals, they were once perfectly manicured. Although now unkempt, they appeared lusher than any of her mother's recollections. The wind began to howl as Katarina followed the path from the surrounding grounds of the estate, towards the lap pool (covered in a blanket of leaves) and past the stables. Katarina noticed a few security cameras which unnerved her, but there were no lights on, so she assumed like everything else, they were in a state of disrepair. It was remarkable how useless the cameras would be in tracking the real inhabitants of the estate, Katarina thought, but then she supposed that was not the reason they were installed. At the gates, beyond the stables, Katarina saw her first sign of human life.

There was an elderly groom working with a horse - the other horse remained under cover. Both animals were black and sleek with sweat. It was obvious Heath had not been out riding alone.

'Good Afternoon, Miss. Katarina isn't it?' he mumbled, looking at her quizzically, as if he'd seen a ghost.

'Good Afternoon,' Katarina replied.

'I'm George. I've been working for the Spencers… forever. Greta said you'd be coming. She got held up at her meeting. She collects her grandson from his pre-school on Fridays…'

'Oh,' Katarina said. 'That's okay. The…owner has given me permission to take photographs over there.'

George shook his head as she walked towards the garden. Seconds later, rain started to spit from the sky and Katarina found herself standing near the outside wall that led to the upper floors of the house, contemplating how to climb it.

She'd forgotten it was Friday; she'd promised Linus and Hinton that she'd meet them for dinner tonight. Katarina would have to be quick. She would also try to act as normally as possible with Hinton. They hadn't had a moment alone to talk and Katarina wasn't sure what to say, but she knew she had less and less recollection of her real life outside the family she was beginning to understand. She glanced over her shoulder. George was nowhere to be seen. Quickly, she climbed the wall, using the strength and muscles she'd developed from years of riding. When Katarina reached the window, she lifted the glass easily and crawled through the dusty ledge, landing on her feet inside her mother's old room.

She looked above her, to the roof of the room. It was empty. There was nothing except chandeliers. Then she walked to the hallway and up the stairs. They creaked with every step she took. The girl was compelled to walk higher, to the forbidden floor. Linus had told her where Heath had stashed the keys and she retrieved them from his desk.

When Katarina reached the attic, the door was slightly ajar. The curtains were open and blowing in the wind. Rain splayed the sill. The door did not creak when she pushed it further. The rain stopped; birds sang. Outside, a rainbow appeared. She stood silent as the door quietly closed behind her, untouched.

It was quieter and lighter up here than she imagined. There were no cobwebs. In the corner lay another pile of girls' clothes, used and unused, thrown into a washing basket. At the top of the pile lay the same bunch of riding clothes, recently worn. There were boots with fresh mud on them discarded in the corner of the room.

Kate looked at the carpet; no footprints. Then she looked at the window sill. Mud dripped upon it. An exaltation of larks outside the window announced her intrusion.

The fine hairs on Katarina's arms stood up. When she tried to take a photograph through the closed window, the black covering in her camera froze. The birds hushed and through the silence, Katarina heard only the softness of her breathing and her beating heart. She sighed and leaned into the bar nailed on to the attic wall. It occurred to her then that the whole room had been converted into some kind of ballet studio. There were floor length mirrors along one entire wall. The roof of Hareton Hall loomed above her like one of the great baroque ceilings she'd seen in Italy on a school trip. Only the outside scenery, the wrought iron gate, fragile in the mist, placed her at Hareton Hall as opposed to some kind of Netherworld.

Just then, a bird flew in through the window, startling Katarina who crouched onto the floor. A scream rang out before she realized it was hers. When Katarina stopped screaming, the sound of another breath took over.

Slowly, slowly, Katarina raised her head until she looked directly above her. Hovering in the roof beams was a young woman. Sleeping, eyes closed, hair matted across her eyes, her face was obscured. She was curled up in pink cotton pyjamas and seemed no older than twenty-one although it was difficult to tell in the dark. The tiny hint of a corner cobweb touched the edge of her hair. Her arms were folded across her chest. She was cocooned in a pink, mohair blanket.

Katarina's scream woke her and the hybrid girl somersaulted down from the rafters. In a split second she back flipped off the high beam and landed on her feet. The young woman, a mirror image of Katarina, opened her eyes where she landed. Then she stood and drank in Katarina's face as if she could hardly believe the vision was real. With the threat of tears in her eyes, the beautiful hybrid uncrossed her arms and reached out her hand. She walked towards Katarina with an open palm. In the same moment, her image disappeared into shadows, leaving nothing but air.

The objects in the attic - an antique hairbrush, some ballet shoes in a basket, a used pink towel with cream lace edging, more wrappers of lollipops and sweets - also disappeared in that moment. The only thing Katarina had left was a memory. She stood frozen. Katarina felt sure no one would believe her if she told them what she saw. The girl's face had been identical to her own.

The teenage girl backed out of the room then turned and ran down the stairs, two at a time. Her camera strap was still wrapped around her wrist and she heard the snap in sunlight as the film started automatically, winding again.

George, the groundsman, hovered at the front door.

'The master won't be happy about you wandering through the house alone.'

'He gave me permission to take photographs,' Katarina sniffed. 'Besides, he's not my master!' Katarina added. 'Nor yours. Do you… Do you know what… _who_ is in this house?

George raised his eyes and pulled some leaves out of the rake he held.

'Yes.' He spoke in a thick, Northern accent. Katarina could still hear the high, sweet voice of a Lark, singing in the rafters.

'Did you hear that?' Katarina asked aloud.

He nodded. 'There's been talk of… bloodsuckers here for years. Some like to refer to them as ghosts…makes people feel better I suppose. It's because they're up all night,' he added. The pretty tune stopped and all that remained was the noise of George's rake, as if he'd already forgotten what he said.

Reality seemed to elude all who visited The Hall, except her. Katarina felt sure the secrets held the key to the mystery of her family. The vampire girl in the roof was similar to her and to…her mother. Katarina needed answers.

George simply stared into the distance.

Katarina waited on the front steps. Greta had texted to apologise and re-schedule. It was all that kept Katarina from running away forever. It was late in the day by then and already the sun was setting.

'They say memory is something that exists in a person's mind forever; we just have to know how to unlock it when we forget something.' George said out of the blue.

'You must have a lot of memories of this place,' Katarina replied.

'Oh yes, Miss. What I have seen… ' he sighed as he walked towards the shed.

**Chapter Twenty-seven**

_**The Girl in The Attic**_

Hinton had a bad feeling. He texted Katarina and they agreed to meet in the Glass House. They could go to dinner at The Grange after they'd had a chance to speak. At least outside was safer and, still needing more external shots of the heath in twilight, Katarina lifted the latch of the iron gate. The entrance to the private garden was the exact place she had read about in her mother's journal.

The gate led to a maze that in turn spilt into an abandoned part of the heath. Katarina wore her walking boots as she rambled in her rolled up jeans, a long coat and scarf draped around her shoulders. As the winter evening closed in on her, Katarina buttoned up her coat and pulled the belt tight around her tiny waist. The young girl walked towards the now private arboretum, largely abandoned in winter and known only to those who lived close by. The directions had been detailed in her mother's journal. Her father had taken her there, only once, as a child.

The wind howled and Katarina's camera tossed and whipped around her wrist. She suddenly wished she'd modernized her instrument. If she'd had a passion for digital, the camera would not be so heavy or so much trouble.

Almost immediately and without warning, the air had turned to pre-snow iciness. Katarina could see her breath and soft flecks of powder fell around her feet. Autumn had been so unpredictable this year. As ice began to spit from the sky, Katarina stumbled inside the shelter.

The glass house, located behind a woodland meadow, had been restored in recent years. It was so beautiful that she resolved to take Hinton here. When Katarina thought of Hinton, she smiled. Their tutoring sessions had started playfully enough but then Hinton seemed to improve exponentially. She was certain his initial unfriendliness towards her had been related to his secrets and not his arrogance. It was a wonder Hinton was the person he was, when she considered how many challenges he had had - the loss of his parents, the discovery of his rare needs. She was proud of him. Hinton had the courage to seek acceptance however weird and bizarre his lineage.

Somehow, everything would work out. There was a quote from a Shakespearean sonnet she had read at school that came to mind: _Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds… O no! It is an ever-fixed mark / That looks on tempests and is never shaken…_

The deep thrill she felt inside at the merest thought of seeing him again was unlike anything she had experienced. She wondered if he felt the same and hoped that he did.

Katarina knew for certain that her father would not be happy about her connection to the Spencers, and would never have encouraged their meeting in the first place. In just a few weeks, the course of her life had altered completely. Katarina felt sure of her decision to support Hinton as she sat in the garden seat waiting for him.

Her breath was visible on the glass now. It was heating up as Katarina waited patiently for Hinton who had just texted her to say he was on his way. She unwound her scarf, took off her woollen snood and pulled off her gloves. As she did so, she dropped one of them on the ground and reached to pick it up.

Hadn't Linus, taking into account his stupid theatrical superstitions, once told her, that, "in the theatre a lady should never retrieve her own glove. Instead, she should wait for another to pick it up for her." Katarina, knowing how silly this seemed, reached down for the glove but couldn't find it in the shadows.

Finally, hunched under the chair and looking for the glove, she was confronted with the words of ancient lovers - or they seemed ancient to her.

At the base of the tree, behind the arboretum chair were the words HEATH & KATE 1988 carved into the growing wood. Like a child, Kate wound her fingers over the engraving, forgetting all about her missing glove in the process. An onlooker might have thought the glove had simply disappeared or been taken by a ghost. Outside, the wind drove a branch into the glass wall which frightened Katarina and made her turn around suddenly to see a grown man in a long coat, standing, illuminated by lightening in the darkness.

'Hinton can't come,' Heath said.

Katarina looked up so quickly she slipped and Heath moved and caught her by the arm.

'I came home from the city to collect a file I left. George said you'd be here.'

'I…I was just…'

'Tutoring Hinton? Yes, he told me. He's certainly improving. Well, anything would be an improvement. That boy's spelling is atrocious and no tutor I've paid has ever done anything for him.' Heath seemed annoyed. 'George told me you've been…inside the attic, taking photographs. Good luck, the images won't develop.'

It was time for a little bit of honesty, Katarina thought, as they both walked outside to her Uncle's sleek, waiting car.

'Never mind, there is honour in the attempt,' Katarina said. Heath walked quickly and Katarina asked directly, 'Who is the girl in the attic?'

Heath paused for a moment and then responded. 'She is a hybrid, a human transitioning into a vampire who has lived at Hareton Hall longer than me. There were complications with her transition. It has taken longer than expected. You must know there is strangeness in this… family'

'Yes. So I've gathered. I've been told some things about Hinton. But, I'm not just his tutor. I'm his friend. And it's pretty obvious Hareton Hall is haunted.'

Heath smiled at the use of her old fashioned word.

'The house has always attracted comment,' was all he added.

The sleek Jaguar was waiting on the other side of the park and they seemed to reach the car in double quick time as Heath hurried Katarina along.

'Get in,' Heath said as he reversed the car. 'Listen to me. Hinton is a player. He doesn't have friends who are girls.'

Katarina looked at him sharply. 'Well, he does now.'

There was silence for a moment as Heath digested this.

Katarina changed the subject. 'Is that why I can't see your breath?'

Heath was lost for words for the first time as they drove through the winding road towards her house. He did not answer her question directly. 'Now, there's a bit more of your mother in you,' he responded. 'You can't see my breath… because it's not cold enough.'

'You could see mine. Why is there a… girl in the attic?'

Katarina looked down, jealous that he knew so much more about the cocooned hybrid than she did.

'What do you mean?'

'She looked like me, sleeping on the ledge, and I look like my mother.'

'Katarina… you're imagining things. I can take you there now and the attic will be empty. Yes, it has been said the girl haunts the house but you have to forget this. It will bring you no comfort. You can never touch her or speak to her… or even see her properly. I know Linus took you to one of his wild parties. I can only imagine what they get up to there. You're not…on anything are you? I mean anything that might make you hallucinate.'

'No,' Katarina said quickly.

'Ah… there's the fire.'

'What do you mean?'

'The fire that your mother had in her personality.'

Katarina cringed. 'Is that why you liked her?'

'I, I suppose so,' Heath said.

'Are you going to tell me the truth?'

'I'm going to try, but not now.' he responded.

'When?'

'Soon. In the meantime, read your mother's journal. I know you have it.'

Katarina glanced at Heath incredulously.

The man didn't want to talk any more tonight. This girl was half his age, far too young to understand the depth of his feelings for her mother. He was in no mood for explaining the supernatural. Not now. He was tired; a long day trading stocks and shares will do that to a man.

He was also concerned that the cousins were getting close. It wasn't meant to happen like this, so far out of his control. His son had been given instructions to befriend then dump her, and it wasn't really going to plan now that Hinton had taken it further and just left it at "befriend her". Didn't he realise how much Heath hated her father? How little they owed the Hunts? It was time to end this stupid game.

Heath pulled up suddenly.

'Where are we going?' Katarina asked.

'To The Grange, your father is expecting you. I called him. The dinner date has been cancelled. Hinton and Linus sent me to tell you. Neither of them could get away from having to work late.'

They drove in silence, the short way, before arriving at the gravel driveway of The Grange.

'Would you like to come inside?' Katarina offered. 'It's very warm and cosy compared to The Hall.'

Heath contemplated her offer for a moment. 'I suppose you would think that. But I went to dinner at The Grange once and the atmosphere just about froze ice.'

Katarina looked startled.

'The snow seems to have settled, go on then. You're safe to walk up the path. I'll stay here until you've gone inside.'

Katarina slammed the door loudly as she got out of Heath's car.

Heath was quite annoyed at himself. This young girl was making him less brash, kinder. It didn't suit him at all, and she'd discovered Kate's hiding place and the glass house, which was irritating. How long before she discovered even more secrets?

Once again, Heath didn't like the thought of her becoming too close, though it was his desire that she and Hinton… well, ultimately he wanted The Grange and it hadn't been on the market, ever. Katarina was heir. It was important his plan proceed. Heath was glad she hadn't acknowledged the tree markings he and Kate had carved on that bitterly cold afternoon. It was so long ago now. The girl must have seen them. He longed for a return to those days, for Kate to come back to him. He had waited so long to unlock the past.

In the distance, The Grange reminded him of Annabelle.

**Chapter Twenty-eight **

_**Annabelle **_

The day after the infamous Grange dinner party, Heath decided to ring Annabelle. He asked her to come to dinner with him. Bored with the usual pattern: work, money, a feeding frenzy sated by the local blood bank - he needed a distraction. He'd been denying his true nature for too long, but there was very little alternative in polite society. Besides, Kate had moved on.

He would do the same.

That evening, Annabel arrived at his office in her work clothes. She'd been promoted at the gallery to Publicity Officer and her expensive blue suit shimmered under the lights as Heath gave her a tour of the new company premises. Afterwards, they went to dinner. Every night the following week, they did the same.

Sometimes they met up in Soho near the gallery where Annabelle was working with a more experienced Art Historian. She hoped to manage the gallery one day and Heath was surprised at her entrepreneurial vision. Annabelle was delighted by Heath's availability and newly amenable nature. He was like a new person, genuinely complementary of her work in the gallery, the place Kate one day planned to display some of her pictures.

They'd been going out for about six weeks when they met for lunch in a popular restaurant with long glass windows overlooking the Thames. Annabelle had a frown as she scanned the lunch menu. Heath once preferred pubs but his new job came with an expense account that he felt obligated to use. Annabelle was very impressed with this, but barely ordered anything.

'I'll have the soup please,' Annabelle said to the waiter who seemed unsure, as if it was his first day.

'Typical,' Heath thought, as he noticed Annabelle eating like a bird.

After they'd eaten, Annabelle told him about her day and Heath pretended to be interested. He knew he'd have to try a little harder if he wanted to pass the six-week boyfriend stage with Annabelle.

'Heath…did you hear me?'

Miles away, Heath had tuned out and was staring through the window at the panoramic London views. This was not a good sign. He was wondering how he'd dis-entangle himself from the possibility of an actual relationship with this woman whom he'd thought of as a friend - at worst, a plan. Sensing this, Annabelle did something unusual. She shocked him.

'Did you hear me Heath?'

Annabelle burst into tears as she talked.

Heath, sensing her need, couldn't believe his good fortune. Though never very interested in problems of a female nature, he'd have to make an exception in this instance. The words "unexpected pregnancy" gave him a chance to play the hero, no questions asked and also to get back at the woman he loved. The circumstances were too good to resist. He could take the plan further than he'd initially intended.

'I…I don't know what to do,' she gulped as she talked, irritating Heath who was nothing less than riveted by her out of character tale. It shouldn't have surprised him; Annabelle was needy and unpredictable. She'd barely waited for him to pay for dinner the third time they'd dated before she'd arranged his seduction in a hotel room. He knew he'd become a person Kate disliked and he didn't care. Perhaps his recently acquired egotism needed to be kept in check. The truth was he'd planned for days to spend the night with Annabelle. Still, he hadn't encountered anything but enthusiasm from her. Annabelle was almost entirely predictable and her neediness for his love was no less than riveting to a man who, since Kate's betrayal, was almost entirely devoid of emotion.

He knew Kate would think less of him for having almost no feelings for Annabelle yet taking things further with her. Since Kate had abandoned him and married someone else, he felt she had no right to an opinion. He'd been out clubbing and fanging and going home with whomever, since he'd read Kate's marriage notice in the paper years ago.

Now Heath wanted to use and discard anything and everyone he encountered. Most of all, he wanted to make Kate and her family pay for their transgressions, for leaving him alone as a small child, for beating him and, in Kate's case, for choosing someone else. Annabelle had needed little inducement from Heath to re-form a romantic attachment towards him that had never existed on his part. They had spent the night together after just one bottle of wine. Admittedly, she'd done most of the drinking. He had to give her some credit as she stared at him with her big, tearful eyes. The look of love on her face was implacable.

That night was a distant memory to Heath and he'd purposely not phoned her the next day.

After he'd impressed her with the cheap thrill of an exclusive hotel and his undivided attention, that one night with Annabelle had ended in the usual disappointment as he woke up beside her the next day. He did not need reminding that she was not Kate. Annabelle's arm across his chest represented her neediness, not his. Heath had sat on the lounge chair opposite her after he'd dressed, resisting the urge to run off early and leave her lying there alone.

That morning, a plan had begun to form. He'd left a respectable length of time between the first meeting and trying to impress her at Claridges. This was nothing less than Annabelle was used to, given her spoilt upbringing. He smiled inwardly as he realized she and Kate had at least one thing in common.

She was connected to the only woman he'd ever loved and that connection would serve a higher purpose; revenge.

Heath tried not to dislike her as she sat opposite him in the restaurant. She was attractive enough, nothing like her sister-in-law which really should have been a point in Annabelle's favour. Kate, beautiful and goddess-like, was also disloyal - Heath would never forgive her. He found Annabelle emotionally needy and thus high-maintenance and even a little bit boring, but she also held the keys to The Grange, a property he wished to purchase.

Heath was surprised when Annabelle spluttered out in sobs her baby news. He had been careful and made sure he looked empathetic as he sipped his blood orange juice mixed with Magenta.

He'd learnt to control his desires to drain his lovers, especially the ones he liked and his specialist had warned him that there was a chance he could pro-create. If he did, his offspring would only have a small chance of inheriting his hybrid gene. A boy child would have a sixty percent chance of being a fully-fledged bloodsucker. A girl child would carry the gene but likely be human. Heath hoped for a girl. He'd never want a child to suffer the way he had. He had no idea how he would explain himself to Annabelle. He'd tried to tell her about his freakiness, but she refused to listen. When he was tempted to fang, her meek compliance repelled him, and he held back. She still held little appeal. To Heath, Annabelle was bloodless.

All she said was, 'I know you are different. Kate has warned me but I don't care.'

He knew it was his call - either way Annabelle would raise his child.

'Annabelle, stop crying, there is no need for that,' he said softly, feigning sympathy which Annabelle misinterpreted as empathy. (They should have been more careful. They'd been careful, or so he thought). He'd lately started to read the thoughts of people close to him. It was a habit he'd tried to control but as he tuned in to Annabelle all he could hear in her mind was, 'please offer…please do the right thing…'

Heath stared out the window, bored with the woes of human life. This news should have excited him, he was sure of it. Once, the prospect of creating a family would have been grounding, essential. But now, he just stared into the abyss of eternity, the cruelty of outliving those he raised and dared to love in return.

Heath viewed the river and its many bridges, the skyline along the houses of parliament and thought what a wonderful city to behold. The bloodsuckers who'd come before him had told many stories about Edwardian England. Evenings were filled with tales of beautiful women, dark cobbled lanes, ruby carpeted theatre halls and eager street vendors. His ancestors drank brandy seated around log fires during their cold, mansion nights. And here was the chance to add his lineage.

He realized he was in control and wasn't proud of the fact that he'd made Annabelle feel beholden, when all along he'd wanted something beyond what was obvious to her. Marrying Annabelle would make Kate feel what he felt. The situation was meant to be. He looked towards the boats and the line of the shore that carried cargo and supported both ancient buildings and high rises. He wondered how far one of those boats could carry him if he kidnapped Kate and forced her to stay away from her poisonous family and all that was familiar until she was his, and only his, forever more. He thought about the time he'd gone to meet her in the glass house and wished they'd never parted.

He paused before he spoke. In his fantasies, the only source of comfort to him was a reversal of betrayal.

'Here, dry your tears,' he said, handing Annabelle an unused handkerchief.

Annabelle pressed it under her eyes.

'I have a solution. Your child shall have a father, Annabelle. We'll get married. I brought you here today to tell you…well, to ask you to marry me anyway. I'm not suggesting for a minute that this hasn't surprised me, but we needn't let it derail our lives…'

Annabelle looked at him with a surprised expression on her face. She used an old-fashioned phrase, "You could have knocked me over with a feather," when she announced her intentions to Kate later that evening, just as Heath imagined she would. He only wished he could have seen Kate's face when Annabelle told Kate that Heath had asked her to marry him and that she'd said "yes". Kate had guessed Heath was up to something but she also knew there was nothing she could do. She was married to Edmund now, she was having his child.

Over breakfast a week later, Edmund raised the subject of Annabelle with his wife.

'I feel as if I have lost a sister,' Hunt said, as he read the finance news. 'But never mind, she will come to her senses, eventually - and when she does I shall not be so forgiving. I think I shall re-structure the family trusts, make it harder for him to get his hands on her property… '

'Annabelle is pregnant,' Kate said, her hand on her own expanding stomach.

Hunt put down his newspaper, but delivered the calm, rational words Kate had come to expect from him.

'Then I suppose it will be a while before we see her again.'

The wedding was a lavish affair. The impending nuptials were announced in the most conservative broadsheet newspapers and covered in all the glossy magazines. Kate attended, of course, in a pink silk dress, fashionable and ruched at the shoulder. It was a close family affair and Hunt had told Kate she must attend.

Kate couldn't describe how she felt, sitting in the reception as the young couple danced their first dance. They looked amazing together - Annabelle so blonde and pretty like the sun, Heath so dark and handsome, like night.

**Chapter Twenty-nine **

_**Glass House**_

In retrospect, he had tried to show enthusiasm for the marriage.

As they grew apart, Annabelle was unaware they'd never really been together, except as friends and briefly, lovers. If his wife had ever asked, he would have told her everything. Deep down, he knew the truth; Annabelle didn't want to know.

Work was always his excuse.

The office needed him - the businesses. The family fortune required overseeing now that Harrison had drunk himself into despair and lost most of the shares that had remained in his name. Harrison sold the rest to Heath's company for a third of what they were worth. Of this recent business deal, he was not ashamed. He knew Kate, whom he hadn't spoken to for months, would be angry at him for stooping to Harrison's level.

The adoption of Hinton had not brought the family any closer together and Heath made more excuses to stay out of the house. Heath's career was escalating and he was expanding the company overseas, preparing to leave London for Asia for three months.

'I'm asking you not to go,' Annabelle said. 'It's too soon with the baby.'

'Well Annabelle, you knew where this was going when you married me. I can't abandon my career; it's important.'

'For what? You've earned more money than we could ever use and you have mine. You've spent half your life trying to get back at Harrison, now you've succeeded. You own his house, his companies.'

'Co-own. Remember it's mortgaged.'

'The same thing, you will own it. And my brother, you won't even speak to Hunt.'

'It is an understatement to say we didn't get along at school…'

'But we are adults now, Heath; I just want you to forget…'

Annabelle put her hands on her husband's face. Normally her blood did not appeal to him overly, but he hadn't taken his vitamins and was low on plasma. He pushed her hand away, afraid the yearning to feed and munch on the cool blue vein in her wrist would repel her. If only he could share with her his longings, his issues, himself. Perhaps the marriage would have had a chance. But, let's face it, she wasn't Kate. He knew Annabelle would run from him when she discovered the truth. He was sure of it.

Annabelle, for her part, suspected Heath was not normal from the earliest days of their marriage. She thought he might need therapy but he brushed her away when she tried to talk to him about his mood swings, as she called them. He'd always been cold towards her, Annabelle realized in retrospect. She had thought Hinton and the baby would bring them together but after he'd satisfied himself that the foetus would be "normal" (going so far as to take her to a strange specialist in Harley Street when she seemed overly fond of lamb chops), Heath had distanced himself from her once again.

Every person was worthy of love. It seemed to Annabelle that Heath had received more from the marriage than she had. Annabelle only expected her husband to love her, yet he made her feel unworthy. Sometimes he looked at her as if she was air and Belle caught him looking at Kate's old photographs more than once. Annabelle didn't even want to think about her sister-in-law. She was sure it was their love that had wrecked her marriage. On other occasions she realised that Heath was the sort of man who would have found it hard to make any marriage work.

Belle regretted the loss of her only female friend. She missed being close to her sister-in-law. Months earlier, Kate had pleaded with Annabelle not to marry Heath and Annabelle hated to admit Kate was right.

'He only wants to hurt you…he wants to hurt me.'

'How can you say that, Kate? Why do you think you are the only person worthy of love?' Annabelle asked.

'It's not like that,' Kate had replied.

'Not like what?'

'Heath and I…we grew up together…I know him. He's not like other people, he's…different…' Annabelle misunderstood her intentions almost entirely.

'He still loves you…doesn't he?'

'I…I don't think Heath's capable of love anymore…he…uses women and he's not above using you for his own purposes,' Kate had warned her.

'What purposes? He's already got his own money. Yes, our family is wealthy but so is Heath…'

'It's not like that. He wants ownership, power. First it was Harrison, now it's Edmund… once he marries you, he controls you. He wants to hurt me…promised me he'd get me back, for marrying Edmund…'

'Why did you marry my brother, Kate? I've always wondered…'

'Because… I loved him.'

'Because you loved him or because you needed him? Heath wasn't there and my brother was! Well now I need someone Kate and you can't stop me from being with him…'

'I'm trying to warn you… he will make your life very difficult Annabelle.'

Annabelle had packed her suitcase.

'Promise me you'll give me a chance, Kate. Stay away from us until after the baby is born.'

'If that is what you wish, Annabelle, but you are making an enormous mistake. You barely know this person. Heath is not like you. He's strong but angry and he's vengeful. He'll take all of his frustrations out on you…'

'I don't care,' Annabelle raged for the first time in her life. 'I love him.'

Kate was not surprised and she wished her sister-in-law well but suddenly they were like strangers in the same room.

'You know what your words do Kate? They make me more anxious than ever to leave this house…tonight.'

Kate sat on the bed; she knew she had tried to reveal Heath's full nature to Annabelle but it had backfired. In fact, she'd made the situation worse. Kate had just alienated her only female friend.

'I cannot say I'm surprised,' Hunt said later. 'I spent hours trying to talk her out of the marriage last night, but there was nothing to be done.'

Edmund leaned in to kiss his wife on the cheek. Kate pulled away.

'Annabelle is very determined to make this mistake,' Kate said.

One night, after they were married, unable to contain himself as Annabelle kissed him, Heath sunk his fangs into her neck (the taste of her blood was expectedly bitter to him). He knew, even after she'd fled the house, they could never be friends again.

Annabelle, endlessly forgiving, wanted to try but he could never explain his true condition or his sense of unworthiness. There seemed little point, especially after Annabelle had finally lost it and screamed at him for being a freak. The next day, Annabelle fled to Cornwall and the family estate. It was just until the baby was born, or so she'd said.

He didn't blame Annabelle. He was glad, in some ways, to see the back of her. He was becoming exactly what he was born to be, an animal. Soon there would not be a shred of humanity left in him. He littered his wardrobe with discarded packets of plasma and when the maid found the empty packages she screamed. He wasn't proud of who he was or what he'd done but after his wife left, he reconnected with his specialist and had a new elixir designed for him, Magenta Plus. This liquid began to control the variant in his condition.

When Annabelle returned to Hareton Hall, she occupied a separate bedroom. Heath was surprised Annabelle didn't leave him permanently. His wife had reverted to type and wanted to keep up appearances at all costs. Heath could read her thoughts by the time she returned and he knew she would run off once the baby was born, perhaps return to The Grange, but never to him. He thought she would leave again after catching him gorging discarded plasma from a plastic bag after a particularly long day at the office. He'd married her for all the wrong reasons; to get back at Kate and Hunt; to possess her and her property. Who could blame her? He'd respect her more for leaving. Deep down, he should have been more careful, controlled himself more around her. He resolved not to be such a fang freak in the bedroom.

In truth, he was surprised Annabelle had stayed as long as she had. He knew she only tried for the sake of the baby and he wished he could be a better man for her, could love her even, but his heart always belonged to someone else.

After she left, everyone left. Heath stopped taking his medication and began to drink too much elixir again. This resulted in an imbalance in his system and disturbing side-effects. He craved blood…human blood but had learnt how not to kill, how to just take enough, how to control himself. This control came from the part of him that was still fully human.

Heath started to bring home girlfriends, randomly. This was an easy thing to do since he was so good-looking and hugely rich. None of them compared to Kate. Always, Heath was dissatisfied.

Greta was disgusted by his immoral behaviour and resigned, telling him to join a twelve step recovery program and get himself back on track with his medication. She sent his Harley Street specialist for a home visit the day she left and whispered that she would call to check on him in a few days to re-negotiate the details of her employment contract.

During that time, Heath detoxed and was put under careful observation until he finally got himself back on track. He did some soul searching. In truth, none of the Spencers appeared to make good husbands, yet he wasn't a Spencer, not really. He contemplated researching his bloodline but that would take him far from Kate and he didn't want to leave her again. Though they hadn't spoken for weeks, he knew she was close by at The Grange.

It had been six months since he'd seen Kate and Greta had told him news of her pregnancy. After Heath married, he'd sent her running back to her weak and irritating husband. At the time, he was glad to see Kate go. He'd watched her turn and run out of the arboretum that night. He thought she deserved his indifference and was glad to bestow it upon her.

Only he hadn't felt indifferent afterwards.

He could still feel her under his skin. With every breath, he thought of her, couldn't stop dreaming about her. He felt she must be feeling the same. His senses were more acute, even though he'd been denying them.

**Chapter Thirty**

**First Night**

At the Grange, Kate was finalizing new sketches for another play. There was talk of working on designs for the Art direction of a big American film that was being made over summer not far from Hampstead.

Kate wrote all her fears and longings in her journals, something she had enjoyed doing since her earliest memories were recorded. She placed the journals in a space at the back of her wardrobe.

Her own pregnancy gave her some comfort, although she couldn't help but feel somehow the child growing within her was an alien. Occasionally, she went walking across Hampstead Heath holding the tiny hand of Katarina, who had just begun to toddle. Her daughter gave her endless hours of joy.

As she leant down to pull her child's knitted hat over Katarina's lush, dark curls, Kate was struck by her resemblance to Heath. It was impossible for him not to know. Edmund did. He had told her he didn't care; that they should marry anyway and start a family of their own; that Heath had likely been killed or disappeared never to return. They'd been hunting hybrids back then. This was a few years before the Vampire Act had been passed giving hybrids the same rights as humans, theoretically.

Edmund Hunt had been a good, kind, loving husband and father. He doted on little Katarina who adored him. Yet, Kate was haunted by her decision.

Kate longed to go back in time, to the night she and Heath had run away and they had married as teenagers in love in the tiny church in Chelsea. They had spent barely one night together before the note was delivered that had revealed a possible connection, a lie that changed everything.

'To everlasting love,' Heath had toasted her in the tiny pub, 'and my beautiful wife. I love you Kate Spencer and I will love you forever.'

Kate smiled, knowing she felt the same, knowing that in that moment there was nothing she loved more than secret marriages and the man before her. The love of her dreams sat later on their hotel bed, with its new mattress and sheets. Heath's perfect chest revealed his hard body, forbidden beauty and immense yet dangerous perfection. Heath had nuzzled into her wrist as Kate wound her body around his. She was sure he was tempted to bite but he never did. It was almost as if they were the same person. That night, they lay together on the bed, the vial of elixir half-empty.

'It worked,' Kate said. 'And you stayed in control…sort of,' she smiled, rubbing her wrist where the nuzzle of Heath's lips had left a slight red mark. Heath felt human and invincible, sleepy for the first time in years. 'I love you,' Kate said.

They were simple words but Heath had waited a lifetime to hear them.

'There is nothing I can say to that, except, I love you more,' he said, kissing her again. Kate could not believe that was true.

They bathed and dressed for dinner, contemplating their imminent return to the world as husband and wife. Kate was pale at the prospect and began to look less like the honeymooning bride and more like a frightened school girl as she contemplated their departure from the hotel. Heath took his pills and drank some plasma outside on the balcony. Kate remembered the note that contained not a shred of truth. The words had been for Heath's eyes only.

Kate thought about the truth as she gathered wildflowers with Katarina. Harrison had always played hard and fast with his lies. But of course, the letter he'd written was the reason she and Heath had parted; the reason Kate had sought sanctuary on that skiing holiday; the reason she'd had time alone to imagine herself with Edmund. The tests were arranged and were conclusive. Harrison had lied. But the whole process took more than a month and in the meantime, Heath disappeared. She was told he had died, most likely from exposure and lack of blood.

_And there he lives_, Kate thought, as she glanced over at Hareton Hall from the safe distance of the Arboretum.

Inside The Hall, Heath sat listening to his telephone messages on that day.

He hadn't seen Kate's face for a long time. Greta occasionally took Hinton to the park to play with his cousin. Heath didn't know about this. Kate always asked after them.

When Hinton turned three, Harrison fled the Guest house, a crazy drunk. He had mostly left Hinton with Greta once Hinton's desire to bite had become almost uncontrollable. Hinton displayed many of the characteristics that Heath had. A mild form of Magenta sated his thirst. Neither Harrison nor Frances understood the child's condition and were happy when Greta agreed to keep him with her. After Frances disappeared in Paris, Harrison went mad. He drank all day and refused to hold down any kind of work.

Heath stepped in and offered to adopt Hinton along with the house and Harrison couldn't have cared less by then. Although the specialist assured Heath the Spencers were not even a distant genetic relation, Heath knew somehow, he and Frances had once been related. Heath felt closer to Hinton, who ate hungrily in the kitchen. Hinton was blissfully unaware of all that had become of his family. He gravitated towards Heath, a father and fellow bloodsucker. Heath hoped the world Hinton grew up in would be more accepting than the one he'd had to hide in, as he shared a piece of chicken with the child who gnawed hungrily with his first teeth and gave Heath a winning smile.

**Chapter Thirty-one **

_**Revelations**_

Once Kate heard about the trouble in Annabelle's marriage, Kate decided it was time to speak to Heath, alone.

Kate was rugged up in her usual riding gear and had the car keys in her hand, making a rattling noise which woke her sleeping husband. She'd woken up early and told Edmund that she was going for a walk.

'At six in the morning, darling?' he asked sleepily. 'Should you really be going out in your condition? The air is like ice outside.'

'Of course,' Kate said. 'I have the car. I intend to walk the easy path. It's my new regime,' she said, sarcastically. 'Besides, exercise is good for the baby. Now go back to sleep…darling,' she added as an afterthought.

Kate pulled on her overcoat and looked into the mirror. At eighteen, when Kate had married Edmund, she'd felt older than her years. Now she was barely twenty-one and she had never told Heath why she had married Edmund so quickly; never told Heath why the pictures hadn't been splashed all over the papers; why the marriage hadn't been announced. He probably guessed and didn't care. There were so many mistakes that had been made and more than enough time to put them right, even if somebody got hurt in the process. They were meant to be together and that was that. She had telephoned him, asked him to meet her.

When Heath arrived at the glass house, having pulled up in one of his sleek sports cars, Kate knew she had to gauge his behaviour.

She moved to touch him but he pulled away and turned his face. Kate wondered if he had already fed that morning on Magenta or… if his tastes had become more refined and… diverse. Kate would have offered her blood to him there and then if she'd felt it would fix the situation between them and not harm the baby.

'Why did you want to meet me here Kate?' Heath asked in a weary tone. Heath noticed her messed up hair.

'Look at you. You've just got out of Hunt's bed. I never thought I'd see the day…'

'Heath…he's my husband…If it makes you feel any better, we have separate bedrooms.'

Heath's eyes combed her face, her body, her round belly hidden under the coat. Kate must have thought he was really stupid.

'Why do you need to talk to me when you've got him?'

'I needed to see you again.'

Kate touched his hand, and all the emotions were like before. She could not deny this passion and Kate wondered if Heath felt the same.

If he did, he didn't show it.

'I'm asking you not to…hurt Annabelle. She's been a good sister-in-law to me, a good friend to us both.'

'Oh, this is rich, sticking up for the other woman. What do you call this then? I'm sure if she knew we were meeting in secret she'd be thrilled,' Heath added sarcastically. Then he moved towards Kate. At first, it seemed like he was going to kiss her. Instead, he was distracted by the baby's heart beat and placed his hands over his ears.

'Having a baby…makes it impossible for me to leave now. It does not mean I love you less.'

Heath looked at her, 'And you brought me here to tell me that? As if I didn't already know? How could you Kate? You should have waited for me. I just wanted proof that Harrison had lied, and then nothing would have kept me away from you.'

'I…I know,' Kate said, weeping.

He was so angry he moved to shove her, but thought better of it, though she didn't resist his touch or step back. Instead he moved in close, swayed almost as if he was going to kiss her. Kate moved towards him at the same time.

'Now, we meet as equals, Mrs Hunt,' Heath said. 'Now you get to be the jealous one.'

That was the problem. Heath had all but ignored her since the night after the dinner party. The closeness of her, the nearness of her almost touch, was enough to set him off. His mouth watered, his teeth sharpened. Kate stumbled and moved to sit down.

'A fine mess we have made of our lives,' she whispered. She looked at Heath and realized her love for him was like the air that surrounded them, ever-changing but eternal, always. Her love for Heath transcended time and space and even themselves. She couldn't believe it had been so fragile, that she had been foolish enough to believe it would survive betrayal. Now Heath was married to another and gone forever.

Kate moved to stand up but sat down again, quickly.

'Are you alright?' Heath asked, suddenly spooked.

'Yes, I'm…I'm just upset, that is all. Please, Heath, don't go, please come. Put your arms around me one last time. I…I would give up Hunt if only you'd ask me to.'

And it was then, that Heath realized he'd finally gotten to her.

Now was his chance.

'You must be kidding,' Heath said. 'Do you really think I'd want you now? About to give birth to another man's child…'

'I wish it were your child,' Kate said.

'Well, it isn't,' Heath said, 'and I don't want you,' he lied.

Kate withdrew her hand.

'Please don't be like that.'

'It was you, Kate, with all of your stupid airs and graces, the minute you were poisoned by the Hunts, you came to believe yourself one of them, better than the rest of us, better than me with my eternal…curse. I longed for immortality once but only to share it with you.

'Share it with me now…'

'You'd have to be joking. You're not thinking straight in your…condition. You are so selfish you can't even put your child first.'

'Not now…later, after the baby is born.'

'Forget it. No matter how miserable you are, you belong to him now…'

'Never.'

'And I have made another choice…'

'I don't believe you.'

'Oh, I could never lie to you and tell you I love Annabelle. I don't even like her, though I've tried hard enough. But hating you, Kate…is almost as good as loving you and how I have wished for this moment, to see you as you really are…empty and alone but for your selfish choices.'

'It was not selfish, Heath. I couldn't find you.'

'You should have looked harder.'

'I did. But I was lied to…Harrison convinced me you no longer lived.'

'Well, he was wrong and he's always plotted against us. You were foolish to believe him in the first place.' Heath said, the morning's gorge from the blood bank fresh in his veins. He felt empowered. There was strength in such a lack of desire.

'It was your fault too,' Kate said, 'for leaving me, for doubting us.'

Heath remained silent. 'Harrison swore we were…blood relations…'

Kate looked shocked.

'But it is not true. Here,' Heath said, he unfolded a paper from his pocket. 'There is no connection. I also spoke to my…mother. It appears my biological father disappeared one night after drinking… the blood of others. He has not been sighted since. Heath pulled out his original birth certificate, written in Spanish. The date was clear.

'I'm a year older than I thought.'

'Oh Heath, what have we done?'

'If I did wrong, we both did wrong and now you are paying for it. Revenge is sweet.'

'Really? Greta used to say revenge is a dish best served cold.'

'Well, she always had a cliché at the ready.'

Both the lovers were spent in their argument.

'Please…Heath… Don't do anything you will regret.'

'Like what? Like leaving Annabelle? No, Annabelle will go of her own accord just like all the women in this family. I'm surprised it has taken her this long to work out that I only married her to hurt you and get my hands on The Grange.'

'I don't believe that. Annabelle loves you. She won't go anywhere unless you force her to.'

'She's left me once already. You really think you can control all our lives Kate? I despise you for marrying Hunt. I despise you for not believing in me enough to wait.'

'I… never stopped believing in you. I never stopped loving you. I wanted to do what was best for… Katarina.'

'And yet you married another.'

'I was told you'd gone forever!'

'Mmm… a convenient excuse. How could you ever be with another man?' Heath spat.

'Like I said, he's my husband.'

'I was your husband.'

'I know, but we were so young, I thought you'd changed your mind, abandoned me.'

'Stop, stop crying. This is not the Kate I wish to see.'

'It is the one you created. I have never stopped loving you…will never stop loving you Heath,' Kate said as she stood up, 'but I think this argument is going nowhere, Edmund.'

'Ah yes, the wonderful Hunt.'

'Don't be jealous. He has never taken your place.'

'That's exactly what he has done,' Heath laughed bitterly.

'When I first saw you, Heath, I loved you. It is almost as if we are the one soul and that doesn't change, no matter what. After the baby is born I want to be with you, forever.'

Kate stood in the open doorway of the glass house as the wind began to howl and swept up her hair. 'I can see there is no point in continuing to discuss this until then.'

'You sound just like him.'

'And you have become so much worse, swindling Harrison out of his own fortune, marrying my sister-in-law to hurt me.'

'Your brother was a vicious drunk and a liar. He deserved it. Besides, it wasn't a difficult thing to accomplish and Annabelle knew what she was getting herself into.'

'And making his child your own.'

'Hinton needed a home after he was abandoned by his own father.'

'A home? You sent him to boarding school.'

'From where he shall return once he is educated.'

'Educated enough to run wild like you and I did? I could never bear to let my child be that far away from me. And as for Annabelle, I've seen the scars on her wrist where you bit her.'

'She asked me to. She thinks blood sucking is more of a kink and less of a need.'

Kate shook her head. 'I can see we're getting nowhere with this conversation.'

'Everything that went wrong Kate, we did to each other. If you had just waited…if you had just believed in me like you promised you would…we said we'd never abandon one another.'

'You abandoned me.'

'I never stopped loving you.'

'…Until now.'

'You married another.'

'So did you.'

Heath shook his head, 'To make you pay…'

'I must go.'

'Yes,' Heath said, 'your husband must miss you.'

'I see you are determined to stay with Annabelle and ruin all our lives.'

Heath raised an eyebrow angrily, 'She is my wife.'

'Just don't hurt her,' Kate said as she walked away. She did not wish to tell him the full truth about their child tonight. It had been a mistake to call him. Heath was left in the dark once again; his vow of revenge seemed hollow and pointless.

**Chapter Thirty-two**

_**Birth **_

Nights later, Kate woke in the dark. Her stomach grumbled as she listened to the rain lick the roof. It was two in the morning. Hunt was sleeping soundly, as Kate crept silently to the wardrobe and removed her long, winter coat, her woollen hat, scarf and gloves. Instead of slippers she slid on her waterproof boots as she prepared for the winter night after many months of clear weather. Kate could hardly breathe she felt so cooped up. She couldn't explain her need to get out of the house. Her mind was overworked. She was not thinking clearly. Kate wished she had told Heath about Katarina. She woke up, dreaming of Heath and thought if she didn't get a breath of fresh air there was no way she'd have the strength to deliver the child that kicked inside her. She knew Heath had rejected her, yet she was compelled to find him.

Kate grabbed the keys to her car then realized she probably shouldn't drive. Besides, her car was at the garage getting serviced. She knew Edmund's Range Rover would make a loud scraping noise coming out of the gravel driveway. Instead, Kate walked quietly downstairs, found the keys to the house in the kitchen and walked very quietly out the door. It was a good distance from the Grange yet she knew a shortcut across the heath towards Hareton Hall that she hadn't used in months. She needed to see Heath again; she would wait for him - forever, if she had to. Tell him it was a mistake, that they belonged side by side, that she never wished to be parted from him again.

Kate was not prepared for the cold air that slapped her face as she stepped into the night. She wasn't far from the beginning of the trail that led between the two houses and she was sure she could find it. Rain started to spit down and the irrational part of Kate did not think about the stupidity of walking in the dark, alone, in her condition.

The manicured garden formed a pattern - a maze that she remembered from childhood -and led the exact way across the heath towards Hareton Hall. The lone house was filled with secrets and lies. Kate was determined to find Heath, to talk to him about Katarina, to make him understand that she had made a stupid mistake. She knew this track, knew the way by dark and from memory.

Kate peered through the midnight air. She caught her breath for the first time in hours and pulled her overcoat tight around her. Kate knew she shouldn't do it, but she thought, if she could just get a glimpse of her old home, the place she now missed, the only place she really belonged to, everything would be all right. She'd had a bad dream, about herself, about Heath and the baby. She needed to know that Heath was alright, needed to tell him about Katarina and wanted to see him again. It had been almost a week since they'd talked. Kate walked on.

The baby stirred inside her and the rain spat down suddenly but softly from the sky. Kate kept going as crystal tears, like the ones from her childhood, began to roll down her cheeks. She put one foot in front of the other, driven. The wind howled, the night closed in on her. She stumbled and hit her head on the rocks. Kate was as far from The Grange as she was close to The Hall. The pain was unbearable as she screamed into the dark.

Hunt woke, restless in the night.

'Kate,' he called.

He wondered which part of the house his beautiful, thankless wife had roamed off to. He saw that her cream dressing gown lay crumpled on a chair and something about the emptiness of the room, the silence in the hallway, bothered him. Hunt got out of bed, put on his slippers in his ordered way and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

'Kate,' he called again, 'Kate.'

In response, there was howling wind and an open window. He walked over to pull it down and latch it shut as the rain fell and the wind seemed to gather momentum. Then he noticed his keys were missing, which meant his wife had gone out driving (a ridiculous notion given that she could barely fit behind the wheel) or walking in the rain. Hunt was beside himself with worry and looked at the telephone. He knew where she had gone just as surely as if she had told him herself. Although the last thing he wanted was to talk to his sister, he picked up the receiver and dialled Hareton Hall.

Heath never expected a call in the middle of the night so he hadn't bothered to take the telephone off the hook. He couldn't believe someone would bother to ring so he tried to ignore the noise until, restless and unable to sleep himself, he picked up the telephone.

'Yes,' he said, sleepily and irritated. Annabelle was asleep at the other end of the hall but woke when she heard raised voices. Belle wandered into the room, wrapped in a blanket.

Heath had spoken only a few sentences before he handed the phone to Annabelle and left the room. He dragged on his boots, riding britches and a long coat. He'd had barely any time to dress because he knew, as surely as if Hunt had told him, where Kate was.

'Is it Kate? What's wrong?'

'She's gone missing. Your brother said she'd been acting strange. She's been cooped up. He's worried she was coming here and something's happened…here, you talk to him…'

'Shouldn't you ring the police?'

'It will be hours before they do anything, but yes, you do that. I'm going out, I think I know where she might have gone - it will be quicker.'

It was moments later that Annabelle realised Heath had picked all of this information up from one sentence. If Annabelle hadn't known better she would have said her husband was a mind reader. Annabelle looked both put out and worried as she walked over to the telephone.

Heath could read Hunt's mind but he'd also dreamt about her. He dreamt about Kate every night.

In his dream they were running along Hampstead Heath together. They were children, again. It was summer. They were bare footed and laughing as the sun shone. Heath only needed a hat and sunglasses. His dream became a nightmare as the sky darkened and the rain came down and Kate, older, turned to him with rain on her face and said, 'Remember…when I'm missing to look harder. I'll be there… I love you…I'll always love you. When you find me we'll be together…forever.'

Then he must have woken and fallen asleep again and in the next dream he was lying in Kate's old room with all her photographs on the dressing table where she'd left them, trying to sleep but constantly woken up by a tap at the window. Rain poured down and the rattle of her tiny fingers became harder and louder until the glass shattered and a voice, Kate's voice snarled, 'Let me in, let me in!' Her neck was red with blood, her skin white as snow. Venom-filled fangs were bared as she hissed…_I've been away for eighteen years_…'

Heath had woken and gone to touch the small hand of his beloved but just as her icy fingertips moved on the broken glass of the window pane, cut and bloody, she disappeared.

Rain poured down as Heath walked, ran, and then merged speedily through the park. The meadow was becoming an ocean of water and mud.

'Kate! Katherine!' Heath yelled, shining a torch into the mist. 'Katherine!' He merged faster then ran towards the glass house. A bundle of shawl, overcoat, boots and wet hair lay waiting for him, shivering in the shelter. There was a gash on her forehead. Heath walked to her and put his arms around her, holding her in an embrace that locked them together like one person.

'Kate, my darling Kate, what have you done? No one knew where you were. You shouldn't have gone out on a night like tonight…'

Kate looked pale and her face was wet from the rain and cold which was perhaps even worse. He knew he had to normalize her body temperature and although he was getting colder by the day, his coat would warm her. He bundled her up inside it.

'I'm taking you to the car, Kate. I parked it not far from here. I knew where you would be.'

Kate stumbled to her feet as Heath helped her. 'You wouldn't speak to me, Heath. You stopped talking to me…'

'I was desperate. I tried to forget you.'

'I know. We've both made mistakes…'

'I should never have left you. It's all my fault…'

'No, it's mine,' Kate said, half delirious. 'Oh Heath, I came back to you…' She put her arms around his neck. He leant in and whispered, 'I never stopped loving you'. Her voice was fading. Then she curled up in pain and cried. Heath scooped her up and lifted her from the ground. Normally, carrying a heavily pregnant woman would be difficult but Kate was surprisingly light.

'We have to get you home, get you warm,' Heath said.

'I'm…I'm sorry. Forgive me for what I did. I made a mistake, should never have married Hunt…but Katarina…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'I know, you're delirious.' He placed his hand on her brow, worried that her skin was burning. 'None of that matters now…'

'It is…as if we are the same person…I cannot exist without my love…I cannot exist without you…'

'Nor I you,' Heath whispered but it wasn't clear if Kate could hear him. He knew he had to get her to a doctor, quickly.

Heath bundled her into the car and rang emergency.

'Kate, you're not thinking straight. Try to stay awake. We're almost…there,' Heath looked over, and touched her forehead which was still warm but Kate's eyes were closed, she was slumped into the seat belt and her breath was laboured.

**Chapter Thirty-three**

_**Reborn **_

Heath had stayed with Kate in her room and refused to be moved until Hunt barged in and demanded to see his wife. Heath was asked to leave. He reluctantly agreed to wait in the hall after he was assured by the nurses that Kate would live through the night and the child would be safe.

At six in the morning he was told the child had been born and both mother and baby were sleeping. Relieved, Heath sighed. Hunt walked out of the room and said, 'She wanted to see you. They say she will be alright…she's sleeping now. I have a son.'

Afterwards, when he had assured himself Kate was resting peacefully, Heath went home, and fell asleep on the couch as the sun came up. He was wrapped in Kate's old blanket. Greta pulled the drawing room curtains shut, shielding him from the harsh light that made his pale skin sizzle.

Greta woke Heath from a slumber he never thought he'd fall into, almost as if he were drugged from lack of sleep. Greta had her coat wrapped around her. Her face was downcast yet welcoming. Heath's mind was a sea of nothingness. Morning rose like a cloud as the faintest trickle of sun shone through the imminent afternoon storm that would lead to yet another wild night.

Heath rubbed his eyes.

'How is she?'

'The baby, the boy, is well and healthy. They have named him Edmund after his father. Annabelle has gone to help her brother with the baby…'

'I wasn't asking about the child.' Heath said wearily.

'I know you weren't. Kate is weak. She asked to be transferred home, she asked for you.'

Heath pulled on his sweater and drove with Greta back to The Grange. He'd never had any desire to come here again, to the house with perfectly manicured gardens. Heath had always preferred the wild, unkempt beauty of Hareton Hall. The Grange held no secrets, until now.

Hunt was standing at the door.

'Oh,' he said, 'it's you. She's been asking for you, they say there is nothing I can do except let her rest. She lost a lot of blood but she insisted on coming home. There is a medical team with her…'

Heath knew she hadn't meant her home, here, at The Grange. He knew she'd meant her childhood home, Hareton Hall.

In Hunt's arms lay a sleeping baby with fair hair, like Edmund's. Heath brushed past Hunt and the baby and bounded up the stairs, two at a time.

Kate lay on the bed covered in a pale duvet. Her pain was dulled by the drip in her arm. Kate smiled when she saw Heath.

'Oh Heath, you've come back to me,' she whispered as he leant over her.

Kate pulled him into her, his warm, strong body giving her the strength to speak.

'I wanted to see you one last time…'

'Quiet Kate…you need to rest.'

'Plenty of time for that,' she whispered. 'I wanted to say how much…I loved you…love you still and that I have paid for my mistake…'

'Quiet Kate, it is I who has paid also…for loving you…'

'No…no…you don't understand,' Kate leant in close to him '…the baby is your child. I've named her Katarina. Please…please don't take her from Hunt. I know he will be a…good father, but I wanted you to know the truth before I…so you can always keep a close…eye on her… my last wish is for Hunt to raise her Heath…because…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'You're delusional. I know…all that is past.'

Heath tried to hide his anger.

Kate continued, 'I know how…ambitious you are… there would be no place for a child in the world you seek…and because I know it will be hard for you to raise her, reminding you of me. Hunt will love her… as if she is his own.'

Heath pushed his face into Kate's cheek.

'No Kate, you are talking madness. Don't leave me…don't leave us…'

'I can't…stay,' she swallowed. 'I'm so tired…no choice…' A tear dropped down Heath's face and onto her lips, paler than chalk. 'I want you to know, there was no one in this world I loved more than you and I will love you beyond this earth.'

'Don't go…' Heath whispered, 'Fight…'

'I dreamt, when I was under the anaesthetic, when they took the baby…I dreamt that I didn't go to Heaven, Heath…'

'Stop talking this way, Kate.'

'I dreamt that I stayed with you…forever…here at The Hall…'

'You're at The Grange, Kate.'

Kate continued, deliriously. 'I dreamt that I haunted you…and we went to the heath every day and lay in the sun and it didn't hurt us… we rode our horses…and had picnics and…raised Katarina…and it was as it always should have been. I never cared about…my career or travel or any of those things you enjoyed…I only ever wanted to be loved by you…to love…you. We are the same person you and I. We were never meant to be parted.'

'No,' Heath said, 'Kate, Kate,' he whispered '… I love you. I cannot live without you…'

'Then don't…' Kate whispered. 'Turn me…make me like you. I know you can do it…'

Heath held her to him gently, trying to will the life back into her aching, bruised body but her breath was fading. There was blood on the sheets when she coughed. When her breathing stopped the medical staff wrestled Kate from Heath and started administering every possible remedy to her lifeless body until there was nothing further to be done.

Kate, in her breathless whisper, asked everyone to leave; she only wanted Heath.

Later, Heath let out a piercing scream as he stormed past Greta, who held the quiet baby boy, in the drawing room. The infant was unaware of the tragedy and commotion that was the post-script to his birth.

**Chapter Thirty-four**

_**Transition **_

In the dark, Kate had whispered, 'Heath, you have come back to me.'

He lifted his head, contemplating her neck, only for a second.

Kate stirred as he leant in to whisper, 'Don't leave me. I cannot live without you, come back to me, come back to me. I never stopped loving you.'

Heath pulled her arm towards him and rested his head in the crook of her shoulder.

'Nor I you, I just wanted to make you suffer. I'm sorry Kate. Stay with me, don't leave. I cannot be without you…'

'You don't have to,' she whispered. 'If it's not too late, turn me into you, even as a ghost, let me haunt you, drive you mad.'

'Your transition may take decades. Changing you will change me. Neither of us will ever be the same.'

'I don't care.'

He had been warned by Greta that she had only minutes left. It seemed like seconds. The doctors had done all they could.

Heath barely paused before he lifted her towards him, plunging his teeth into her wrist, then her neck. The taste of her blood was honey and nectar to him but his tears were bitter. Without her, he felt nothing. With her by his side, they were invincible. Kate shuddered and closed her eyes.

She did not stir. Moments passed. He could hear the doctors discuss how many more seconds they should be left alone. He'd been inside Kate's room for less than three.

Heath turned and looked at the blackened sky. It reminded him of their shared childhoods. He resolved to take her, drag her out of the window if he had to, but physically, her recovery was quick. Her wounds began to heal, almost immediately, but the venom of a hybrid was not as strong in transition. Heath felt weaker. He wasn't sure this would save her.

Kate opened her eyes, yet her skin remained white, almost translucent. The fever, hot, began to cool. Her fingers responded to his touch as he lifted her from the bed to see the view from the window, the view in the night across Hampstead Heath and towards Hareton Hall, where she grew up.

'Heath,' she said, 'there is no man on earth I love more than I love you…' Then she shut her eyes. Kate's body lay mute and lifeless in his arms and Heath let out a howl in the dark that made the staff and Edmund come rushing into the room.

'And that is how the story went…' Greta said, 'A sad story, with no happy ending.'

Greta looked around her as she took the keys from the kitchen fruit bowl, freshly filled with blood oranges. The older woman's eyes filled with tears.

'Katarina, your mother would have been glad that you came here, to discover more about her, but now I think you should leave and think twice about coming back…You see, when we burst into the room that day… her body was lifeless. Then, they took her from him and she was buried far beneath the ground. There is no coming back from that. But people say… no body exists where she was laid to rest. Heath was raving on about immortality for days after but he was talking to a ghost.

I tried to placate him, but he was inconsolable. She'd whispered something in his ear before she passed; something to drive him mad. He bared his teeth and hissed at me when I found him lying beside the place she was buried and to my shame… I ran. I always knew that he was different. I thought it made him special, but that night… he was beyond help. I only imagine what he may have done to bring her back…at least, partly.'

The wind blew a gale outside. The night closed in on them.

'There are ghosts here,' Greta said. 'And more than that, besides… You don't want to make the same mistakes your parents did…'

**Chapter Thirty-five**

_**Family**_

Katarina and Hinton were seated in the Hidden Garden.

'I've read the file, Hinton. Of course, I can't pretend I'm not…surprised but it doesn't change you. Not really. It really doesn't matter to me.'

Hinton looked surprised and hugely relieved.

'I… I've drawn you something. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you. Do you…think of me?'

'Do I think of you? Always.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning I accept you for who you are,' Katarina said, as she ate the lunch she'd brought. She and Hinton, both dressed in long, dark coats (Katarina wore a red beret and gloves covering the expensive bracelet her father had given her for her birthday). They'd met here for lunch to celebrate Hinton's win – with the help of a perfectly worded essay attached to his entry.

'Finally I can spell, read and write almost perfectly, thanks to you Katarina. Although I have to admit, it still takes extra effort to translate some words.'

'I am so proud of you, Hinton. What words are still difficult?'

'I love you.'

Katarina smiled.

Hinton continued, 'they are simple words but hard for me to say.'

'I love you too,' Katarina replied.

Hinton could not contain his smile.

'I have been thinking of the future. The truth is, Katarina, I was never very interested in school. I preferred the horses and my Art and was never very big on study, nor was Heath. We were both too wrapped up in our own little worlds; Heath and his ghost, me and my cravings. Well, we shared the cravings. Perhaps Linus is the one you should congratulate. He just got accepted into Cambridge.'

'Wow. That's amazing,' Katarina said. 'I have to say I'm kind of surprised. He's so into his weekend dance parties. I didn't realize he ever studied. I'm still waiting to hear about Art College.'

'Well, I've been thinking, wondering. I'm planning to go travelling this summer. I was going to start in Italy, and then maybe Greece…The scholarship gives me enough money for two if I travel second class. I was hoping you might come with…'

'Yes,' Katarina said. She was barely eighteen but she knew perfect when she saw it (or perfect for her) and the love she felt for Hinton was real and present. She didn't care what her father thought of the Spencers and she had little memory of her mother apart from the ghostly young girl on the roof that day. The thought saddened Katarina so much she put the image out of her mind and convinced herself the moment could never be replicated.

She'd demanded an explanation from Heath the next time they spoke but he'd just dismissed her sighting and said, 'I warned you not to go up there…'

'Perhaps some things are….inexplicable,' was all Kate could think. The girl had looked so… real, so inexplicably like her. Katarina had barely seen the pyjama-clad intruder's face, but she remembered her clear blue eyes, flashing in the dark, a ghost, a vision, a pretty little vampire.

Katarina understood that somewhere, way back in time, near the place she and Hinton now walked, towards the glass house on Hampstead Heath, her mother had once met Hinton's father, a meeting that created this new moment for her now.

In her mother's antique locket, which she always wore (it had been passed down through generations of Spencer women), Kate had placed a photograph of her mother, and herself; together. The locket, she was sure, kept her safe. Katarina looked over at the handsome young man next to her. It was hard to believe, eight weeks ago, they had barely spoken. Now, she couldn't imagine being without him as he took her hand and they walked across the frosty mist of the Heath.

The truth was in the final pages of the journal. That was why Linus had given it to her to read; she knew that now. The words contained strange truths but necessary ones. Her father was not her biological father. This was something she had guessed from the early chapters of the journal. To discover her heritage was a shock, to discover she had a half-brother in Linus, was revelatory. Katarina also had a younger brother but they had been in different years at separate schools and had conflicting interests. Katarina hoped they would become closer when they were both adults.

She thought of the last time she had spoken to Heath. She was alone on the meadow, angry and tear-stained when she went to him. Heath had had the strangest feeling he was not alone riding his horse that day. He'd lately, in his thirties, begun to hear the thoughts of every human being he came into contact with, something he found disturbing. Once it had only happened when he listened closely. Recently his specialist had warned him about it, warned him that he'd be fully immortal if he lived past thirty, free to roam the heath forever if he wanted to, free to turn himself to ash in the sun if he did not. His image would not be betrayed in mirrors or print. After twenty-six, he'd ceased to exist in photographs entirely.

Heath heard her angry thoughts before he saw his daughter again that day and was not surprised to see her standing before him when he turned. Katarina wore the same long coat as her mother had worn, twenty years ago. Edmund must have kept it with Kate's things. He owed her an explanation. Before she could speak, he apologized.

'Here,' he said, handing her his waterproof jacket. 'The rain is coming down and it will protect you from the storm.'

They rode together to the glass house in silence. When she asked him a question, instead of replying in words, he vanished in mist. Katarina wasn't sure if she would ever see him again.

Months passed. There were so many questions and so few answers that Katarina had stopped asking for them. Her own father had died before she had ever challenged him on the matters of her parentage. Edmund had been a good father to her and she had loved him and mourned his loss and that was all that mattered. Katarina had inherited The Grange.

Heath had not once visited them but Linus came around often for dinner. The three young people had wild parties in the drawing room that were the talk of the borough and many friends from Italy and Europe came to visit. It was a world of lightness and socializing that none of them - Linus, Hinton or Katarina - ever experienced during their solitary childhoods. Heath had become more and more reclusive and barely spoke to his own son, let alone Hinton, when they moved out of Hareton Hall. By then, Heath had stopped going to work, repairing the now crumbling mansion, and never appeared at his own pub for dinner like he used to.

**Chapter Thirty-six**

_**Birthday Party **_

Almost twenty years had passed since the night she was born, and Heath remembered it was Katarina's birthday. He'd had the gift wrapped. A gold necklace with diamonds tastefully worked into swans on the pendant. A fine piece of jewellery, new, not from the family crypt, Heath mused. He also had another gift, the deeds to Hareton Hall, made out to Linus, Katarina and Hinton. He placed inside the envelope the gift of a round the world plane ticket, and access to the shares he had set aside for her since she was born. It was the least he could do, with all his money. He knew it would never be enough to make up for the neglect she'd suffered from him. The gift was merely a gesture and he expected nothing in return. Her desire to be friendly surprised him, given that there were so many unanswered questions about their family.

Katarina was surprised that Heath remembered her birthday since he had ignored every other one and had refused an invitation to the party that evening. Instead, he had driven over to The Grange to see her. He explained he didn't "do" parties anymore, especially ones with a Great Gatsby theme. Instead, he asked her to go walking with him across Hampstead Heath. Katarina smiled and said, 'I'll get my coat.'

They walked in tandem across the meadow in the mild winter light.

"I need to get some more decorations for tonight in Hampstead High Street,' Katarina said, making small talk. 'Linus will be there, you know. And Hinton would love to see you again. You never replied to my invitation, so I just assumed you…forgot.'

'Do you honestly think I could forget the day you were born?'

'No,' Katarina said, 'I suppose not.'

'What was she like, my mother? People say you were both… inseparable. They talk of a ghostly teenaged girl…like the girl I saw in the rafters that day. Tell me what she was like…'

'Well, at first I thought she was nothing like you, but I have changed my mind. You share the same curiosity about things you should not… and there is a determination in your manner that is similar.'

Heath looked down at his feet.

Katarina could hardly believe that this stranger was actually her father. After discovering her mother's old journals she had always suspected there was a story she was never allowed to know. She did not understood her need to reach out to this strange, alone man, who hadn't really shown her any love. Only her mother's journals filled in the blanks, shocking though they were to her. Deep down, there had always been something missing from her family history, something that she'd always suspected. Now she knew there was a vampire in the bloodline. She wanted to go far away from here, at least for a while.

'Your eyes are the same,' Heath said, reaching out to Katarina. He touched her hair when she stood in front of him, overlooking the meadow. Katarina could not feel or sense the touch. The man's fingers were like the air.

'And you look, almost identical - so similar that it was hard for me, at first.'

Then she understood, even slightly, that her mother had been right to let Hunt raise her. Her real father knew nothing about selflessness and love, or did he? He seemed to feel he owed her an explanation, however, and she was interested to hear it.

Heath admitted he'd always known she was his.

'I used to check on you from time to time. It was the reason I never left The Hall. Your mother thought Hunt should raise you and I did not object. I thought raising you in a house full of memories of your mother would not be in your best interests. Your mother and I were meant to be together, always…and I have never truly loved another…'

'I know,' Kate said.

'Then you know, everything?' he asked.

'I read her journals. I know what she wrote in them. It made me understand her…and you, more. But I don't love you. I don't think I even like you. I have forgiven you. That is all.'

'I understand,' Heath said. 'I owed you an explanation…but you found it yourself. I thought I was not fit to be your father…with the boys, I barely had a choice. It was…perhaps wrong of me not to claim you. It was Kate's wish that you be raised at The Grange. I think she thought it was less…haunted than Hareton Hall.'

Heath touched his daughter's cheek and walked on. He wandered further ahead of Katarina, ending the brief moment of rare and unexpected closeness between them.

He added as an afterthought, 'Your mother would be very proud to see you as you are.'

Heath moved quickly and deliberately. Katarina was left standing alone in silence once again.

**Chapter Thirty-seven**

_**Eternal**_

The Grange was decorated like something out of the 1920s. Light filled the room. It was surprising to Katarina that she felt so happy. Hinton had not expected her acceptance. Together they worked.

Though she could only recall the length of her mother's hair, her large, pretty eyes and the warmth of her touch – barely – Kate's writing brought her back to Katarina. She could not, of course, detail her transformation into the girl in the attic that day and Katarina resolved that the more fantastical elements of her visit to The Hall might have been a terrible dream or vision.

Katarina had each of the journals stored in a locked drawer of her desk. They represented a year of Kate's life on this earth, and Katarina had read all of them. The words began in large, childish letters, written in an unsophisticated way. Kate had skipped forward to the good parts, and that was how she knew that Heath was her father, although she never thought of him as that. Not yet. Not ever. They were how she had learnt of the existence of hybrids and humans and vampires and bloodsucking and night terrors. It was where she began to believe in the secrets of the impossible.

The day in the mist, the last time Katarina had seen him, had been the day he started to disappear. Heath had begun to move faster, some say at the speed of light. His powers were so diverse now. He thought they might have brought him happiness but eternity without the one he loved was…worthless. He waited for her.

It was not meant to be that way. He'd been waiting for a long time. But a vampire turned by a hybrid is the longest hibernation of all. Twenty years, he'd been told. And even then, she'd need another eight to reach maturity (girl hybrids aged until twenty-eight when they sometimes attained immortality). It was a risk. There was a chance.

For twenty years the teenage girl had hidden and grown, showing herself only in the early dawn of first light. She could not speak to him or any other person, let alone touch them. Recently, she began to attain human form, as she had been the day she saw Katarina.

For the past month, Kate had come to him in the night, older, not translucent anymore, still talkative, like a child. Her skin had transformed from see through to pale. She no longer took the form of a ghost.

Heath was preparing their first moments together. Their first trip to Italy, where he intended to take her, was to coincide with Kate's twenty-first birthday as a hybrid. He'd been told it was different for women. She'd take longer to emerge.

Tomorrow would be the day. Tomorrow eternity began.

Kate had writhed in pain for months in her attic space, hidden in corners, curled up in blankets. Heath had wandered the heath in the evening to spare himself the pain of her suffering. No one else could hear or see her and he couldn't help her, could not even touch her. He was sure she must regret her choice but when her memory returned, from the wild dark spirit she had become, she reminded him constantly, how much she loved him. It was the pain of seeing Katarina for the first time that rendered her silent. Unable to speak to her grown child, or touch her, she'd disappeared for a long time into the dark. No one could ever find her when they went looking, not even Heath. Kate languished in a ghostly form, pined to hold her daughter, longed to take human shape. It was no use.

Tomorrow, however, they would be free to roam together. Heath would give up his human form for now and they would no longer be seen by the rest of the world, at least until her transition was complete. One day hybrids and vampires would be accepted by the human race but that day had not yet arrived and it would not be safe for them to reveal themselves. Those were the rules. Being hybrid, Heath could only turn one human and that human, being part vampire, had had to wait two decades for restoration. Kate's form would be human, her body hybrid, with all the term implied. Neither of them would ever look older than their mid-twenties. Heath would be there to help her final transition, to encourage her, to love her.

He had been travelling, on a tour of his European offices as she had languished in hibernation in The Hall. Over the years she looked on in agony as the children grew. They were her greatest joy. On occasion she visited Katarina at night, resting her face on the child's cheek, mindful she could never actually touch her. Eventually, she hoped they would discover an elixir; that instead of vanishing together, (the price Heath would pay for her complete transformation), they would be revealed simultaneously.

Heath had told no one he was winding up the companies in America and selling most of his property. It took many weeks. When he returned to London he only left the house to go riding on his favourite horse and sometimes he went for long walks across Hampstead, through the park, and back again. Kate was transforming. Her image appeared to him more than briefly, for moments, and in daylight, not just dreams. He'd become more and more silent to the point where even Greta, who had long ago realized that Heath was not like other men, had taken to worrying constantly about him.

He would miss Greta and the children, who were now grown but they would not miss him. He knew it.

He'd stopped pestering the boys about study or work, stopped worrying about the future of his companies (they would cease to exist soon enough and the cash signed over to Katarina, Linus and Hinton). Heath had long ago stopped asking about any of his old rivals and acquaintances, stopped being interested in the world around him.

That night, before the morning of change, when Hinton, Linus and Katarina came to see him, he was congratulatory but distant. Linus seemed more terse than usual and Katarina and Hinton were blissful in each other's company. The general malaise which Heath had embraced now seemed to affect all areas of his life. He had long since ceased trying to control the younger generation around him. He even congratulated Linus on his new start at University, he told him he was 'extremely proud of him, whatever he chose to do but that "enjoying life" was just as important as a formal education.'

It was all very out of character, according to Greta, who left early after the party that night. Heath had relented and made a brief appearance after Katarina left another invitation at The Hall. Hinton insisted on kissing her goodbye on the cheek and hugged her. His body was cool, his breath light. He assured her he was feeling perfectly alright.

The next morning, Greta noticed Heath's bed had not been slept in and he'd lost weight, so much weight that suits hung off him, but he'd stopped wearing them, anyway. Greta had long since stopped suggesting he take anti-depressants. Heath just laughed and told her he didn't need her help or anyone else's.

Something strange happened in the silence and emptiness of Hareton Hall when he returned. These days, it wasn't just when he slept. The attic was inhabited by a young girl, there was no question. Greta invaded the attic one day and found packets of lollies, uneaten crisps, shoes, socks, dresses, ancient dolls and ribbons. Then there were the strange, empty vials of elixir which looked like…blood.

The first time Kate came to him in human form, he'd been in the drawing room attending to the paperwork on his latest company acquisition. He looked up to see some birds flying beyond where Hareton Hall was situated. They looked so free, so wild.

It was three in the afternoon and a clear day. No one was in the house, on the floor where the study was, yet all his pens and papers had been sorted into neat piles when he walked back to his desk.

It had been eighteen human years since he'd seen her. He sat on his favourite chair and felt a reach on his shoulder, like a whisper, the touch of her hands was so light, so transient.

'Kate.'

'Heath.'

'I knew you'd come back to me,' he said.

He held her hand for a moment and looked at her perfect face until she was gone.

From that moment, he searched for her with some hope of finding her transitioned and whole. He was reminded of the night he begged her as she lay lifeless on her bed, 'Come back to me, Kate. Haunt me, drive me mad…'

'Only if you turn me, change me…make me yours forever.' Somehow the timing was wrong. Somehow they'd met in the middle and once again, they'd been kept apart, made to wait. Both of them like ghosts, only one of them real.

That day, she must have heard him.

He tried to put the image of her from his mind, at first, because it interfered with work, with his day. For many years, she only visited at night in what he tried to believe were his dreams.

_When Hinton came to stay, permanently, after Harrison had drunk himself stupid and wished to stay in the cottage, I insisted Hinton should stay in the main house and Heath should hire more help (he did, without question or interest)._ _Heath always seemed distracted and secretive, for a reason,_ Greta wrote in the journals I read that night, after my final visit to Hareton Hall. _I had as soft a spot for Hareton as I had for Heath, _she wrote._ Although I know I helped to raise a wolfish man, you must understand how difficult life had been for him and how his ambition had been fuelled by his loss and his early life and his…condition. Both Heath and Kate, both young and headstrong, helped to create the adult paths their lives had taken, but they deserved better. They deserved to be together, it is just a shame they managed to hurt so many people in the process. Although Annabelle remarried and found happiness at last - becoming the manager of her own gallery…' _Greta added as an afterthought.

Heath wandered up the stairs that final night, with a copy of Kate's favourite novel, _Jane Eyre, _in his hands. He placed it by the bed next to her photograph. He'd removed the photograph when Annabelle had lived with him here, but it hadn't helped him forget Kate. He'd read _Jane Eyre_ when he was younger, at Kate's insistence, unable to see the parallels to their own isolated existence and the seeking of great love.

**Chapter Thirty-eight**

_**Happiness**_

Katarina had been meeting Hinton for months by the time Heath had made plans to sign the freehold title of his estate over to them. It was a regular pattern.They met at a studio space, rented out by the Art College, in Soho.

Katarina loved getting out of North London. She was used to being in central London but she particularly loved the winding cobbled streets of Soho and the West End lights. She'd dressed up for the occasion, knowing that she and Hinton had a special dinner planned to celebrate the one year anniversary of their first meeting.

Instead of going to Hampstead, they decided on a tiny restaurant here, beside the studio space. Hinton had something he wanted to show her that did not include a pen and paper.

In return, Katarina had a gift she had made to give him.

They kissed as lovers do, warm and close. It was as if they had always been like this. Although it had taken them many months to feel comfortable in each other's company, they now trusted each other completely. Hinton took Katarina's hand as they went to the studio together, tripping through crowds and Christmas lights of a frosty London winter.

'Quick, Katarina, I want to show you something.'

'Yes Hinton, I have something important to tell you also, something I've been saving for today.'

Hinton looked at her in the street, as they stood still together as the crowds bustled around them. Her face shone with beauty, hope and expectation.

Hinton had dreaded this moment - the moment he knew in his heart would eventually arrive. Everyone he had been close to, even momentarily, had abandoned him. First his own parents, whom he'd never met, then his adopted parents; even his adopted uncle had shown little interest in him beyond teaching him to fight back and be sullen and not trust another living soul. But he trusted this girl and she sensed his desperation when she said she had something important to tell him. Hinton's face was downcast, he knew it was irrational. They'd never had an argument since the day they'd met but still the thought remained that she might be breaking up with him. After all, he needed plasma every nine hours to exist.

'I…I knew you would…tire of me…you are such an amazing person but…'

'Oh no, Hinton, you misunderstand…Hinton …I …love you. I think I've loved you since we both sounded out the word "incandescent" …you are…the most original, amazing…'

He put his finger on her mouth, happy that the night had not been ruined, and the surprise was still before them.

'Before you say anything else, you need to see this…'

They had reached the studio, a small building, one floor up on a tiny side street in Soho.

Hinton opened the door slowly.

He wrapped his tie across her eyes.

'Wait,' he said.

'Hinton, what are you up to?'

'I'm showing you something I've been working on over the autumn. It's something special…it's my future.'

Kate stood still in the centre of the room, an empty room with tall ceilings apart from the painting on the easel in the middle.

'Open your eyes.'

Katarina stood in her coat, flicks of snow upon her shoulders and glanced at the tall, handsome boy with the kind eyes, then glanced back at the painting of her.

'What do you think Katarina?'

'It's…amazing. I'm speechless…'

'It won first prize. You won me first prize.'

The picture that stared back at them was of a young woman's face, an identical artist's interpretation of the beautiful girl in the room. The haunted look in her eyes was replaced with something verging on both satisfaction and calm. If there was a word to describe the expression on Katarina's face in the portrait, it would be love.

'You are the reason I won this scholarship. I'm going abroad for the summer…'

Kate's face dropped…

'Well, that's wonderful… I had something for you but now…'

Kate realized Hinton had meant more to her than she to him, for he was the one contemplating leaving.

Hinton took her hands in the shadow of the exquisite painting. Light beamed in from Soho streetlamps. Wind whipped up leaves on the cobbled stone. He could hear her heart and tried to stop himself from hearing her thoughts. He'd consulted a specialist who'd said by twenty-one, his needs would be fully formed. But for tonight, he was okay. Together, they were warm and safe.

'It's just that… I made something for you, but I don't know if I should give it to you now. I mean, now that you are going…'

Katarina sat on the forgotten lounge which had been covered in an old painter's canvas sheet. There were splotches of blue and pink oil paint around the frayed edges of the material.

Hinton moved towards her slowly, blood tightening in his veins. He hesitated.

'That's just it, Katarina. I don't want to go alone. I know you shouldn't accept me, as I am and I know it's early to ask you this - we are young…I am…different, to say the least but…'

Katarina looked more intently at him, not wanting to anticipate his meaning without having it spelt out before her. He wanted her to go with him… or did he?

It was easier for him. All his life he had felt unloved until now. Hinton did not want any misunderstandings or any lack of clarity to mess things up the way love had messed up the people around him - his adopted Uncle, for example.

'I… I love you. And I was wondering if you could overlook…'

Hinton got down on one knee on the bare floors, his mouth watering with nerves, his blood tight in his veins…

'I…am wondering…would you do me the honour…'

Katarina was surprised. She had thought he'd meant her to travel with him but…this.

'Yes,' Katarina said…

'I haven't asked…' he began.

'Ask the question,' Katarina smiled.

'Katarina Spencer…I know we are young, I know we should be fearful of my…condition, but I've never been surer of anyone. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'

'Yes,' Katarina said.

In the shadow formed by street lamps, the young lovers kissed.

**Chapter Thirty-nine**

_**Wuthering Nights **_

It was an icy winter evening in Hampstead as he spread out all of the documents that ridiculous lawyer had required of him for the transferral of property and funds. He was sure he hadn't neglected anything. He left no notes but he knew Greta would do as he wished. She had not been forgotten either. There was an envelope for her which would be sure to allow her to live in luxury for the rest of her life. Apart from Kate, she had been the most loyal person he'd known.

Heath dressed in his warmest black turtle neck jumper and found his boots and the coat he liked best and wore most often. He heard a tap at the window, rain mixed with the branches of the tree outside, hail trickling onto the roof, reminding him of her beautiful face and pale fingers reaching for him.

It was not unusual any more. The waiting, the anticipation, the brief visits that had prolonged his years. He had taken to staying out late then driving home at two in the morning. But tonight was different, tonight she hadn't come to him and he knew it was because it was his turn to find her. Kate was waiting for him in the dark, on the heath, in human form.

She called to him when no one could hear, no one but him.

'I've missed you…' She said, 'I told you I'd come back to you.'

'Kate,' he whispered, 'it's been forever…' he said under his breath, glad she was so restless, like him, a twin soul.

**Epilogue**

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London. **_

In the morning, I was called to investigate the business transactions of a certain Heath Spencer and the links amongst his family which allowed him to divide his assets between three heirs. I was alarmed by news of his passing, but not surprised. The Spencers hadn't made it public and there was no note so it had taken some years for the law to rule that he'd died "of exposure" in the night. It was all rather strange, since his body was never found.

Rather than try to navigate the heath on a frosty winter morning, I stopped and parked near the local pub again and decided to enjoy the ten minute walk along the winding, private road that led to the imposing exterior of Hareton Hall. I was due to visit the new owner, Hinton Spencer, a young man who was married to Katarina Hunt. They had a three year old child and were in a hurry to get the documents signed because they were due to leave for America to spend a summer painting abroad. They were taking an extended vacation and assured me they did not care to live at The Hall but did not wish to sell the place, either. It was a simple matter of the transfer of documents that I'd waited some years to finalize. Hareton Hall would then be returned to its rightful owners.

It was a grinding walk, starting flat and easy and heading ever so slightly up hill, and then, when the sleet and wet started, down again. I was glad I could see the imposing house in the distance.

When I finally arrived there was not a hint of movement, save wind across ground, whipping the heather into a lavender mix in the distance. Up close, there was no sign of the housekeeper either whom I'd been led to believe still lived at Hareton Hall. There was no sign of anything. The fact that the owner had gone "missing" had led to many years of legal uncertainty.

An elderly man, wearing gloves, who looked like he worked with animals, wandered out from the stables, as if from nowhere. He must have been close to ninety years old.

'Is anyone at home?' I asked.

'Not likely,' he replied. 'I've just come from exercising the horses…'

'Is the owner here?'

'You could say that, many do…' he replied enigmatically. He looked at me strangely as he walked into air.

I wandered around to the side of the house, where the cobwebs grew and the foliage had been left wild, giving the lower floor of Hareton Hall the appearance of being covered in unruly brownish lace. There were windows and doors shut tight and locked. The garages were closed and the stables remained empty apart from one where a door had been left swinging open. The grounds themselves, once manicured, had grown wild and lush with secrets.

The owner, I thought, the young man I sought, a Mr Hinton Spencer, must have risen early to go riding across the heath with his wife.

Then I remembered the tales of ghouls and ghosts, the objects seen moving in windows, the people long gone that neighbours reported having seen only days ago. Someone in particular, a young woman with long dark hair who wandered the corridors and played loud music, turning on all the lights during wild, evening parties and lighting hundreds of fire -hazardous candles. I'd assumed the reports were simply jealous neighbours complaining about the noise created by the beautiful young wife, the new Mrs Spencer who'd also had the keys and the run of Hareton Hall. Since the noise always stopped at midnight, there was little anyone could do.

I was about to give up, admit defeat and return the copies of the papers declaring transfer of original ownership to the rightful heirs of Hareton Hall, when I saw the curtains in the upstairs window move. A young girl with long dark hair glanced down at me and smiled. I knocked loudly and waited for a long time, but still, no one answered.

'Katarina Spencer,' I announced, calling out distinctly, although I knew Katarina would be older now and the woman at the window was barely out of her teens. The downstairs curtains waved and I thought perhaps the housekeeper might be there. I looked up again. The girl who stood at the window was beautiful, otherworldly. The image disappeared before my eyes in a mirage of dark curls, cream lace and ruby cheeks.

I was convinced the cold, like the heat, could make you see a mirage in the mist yet I waited on the doorstep for a long time. No one answered. I was tempted to look back as I walked towards my car. For the first time in my life I didn't need proof. I was sure the rumours I'd heard were true, though my notes had many pages missing. As I drove towards The Grange, I was certain the lovers who had once inhabited Hareton Hall, lived there still. The girl had not aged a day since she was last seen alive, more than twenty years ago.

Summer Day is the author of Pride & Princesses, a novel for young adults inspired by Pride and Prejudice and Anne Eyre, a YA novel inspired by Jane Eyre. Follow Summer Day on:

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Email: summerdaylight99

276


	9. Winter Nights Chapter 8

Wuthering Nights by Summer Day

Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer: 

Wuthering Nights

Copyright © 2012 Summer Day

All rights reserved worldwide.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without the express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

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*Note to Readers: UK Spelling / Punctuation used in Wuthering Nights

**WUTHERING NIGHTS **

**Prologue**

**From the journal of Greta Gardner, February 1978**

_The boy arrived at night, wrapped in a blanket. He was carried by his adopted father who placed him on the kitchen floor next to me. His big blue eyes stared out from under his wild black hair. He shrank from the fire, he shrank from my touch, yet his skin was cold as ice… _

_He arrived with a list of instructions tucked into the pocket of his jacket. _

_Eats - mostly chicken and oranges (likes: roast chicken, blood oranges and plums). _

_Drinks - mostly water and citrus juice._

_First warning - do not let him go in the sun often as he burns easily. _

_Second warning - make sure he wears his necklace amulet (a parting gift from his biological mother). He screams if you take it. _

_Final Warning - do not let him go out at night alone. _

_As a small boy (just walking) he had a tendency to wander off, and many times staff at the orphanage were unable to find the little fellow for hours. Once, he was found hanging upside down from the roof of the school gymnasium, like a bat. The only giveaway was the drip drip drip of juice as he stuffed his baby face with blood oranges._

_His file was then stamped: Special Needs. _

_I shook my head as I read this. I was sure Mr Spencer had finally lost his mind dragging the mite all the way back from Spain. It was many years before I learnt the full extent of his malady._

**Chapter One**

_**Hareton Hall**_

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London, Present Day**_

When I saw the house in the fragile light, I could barely make out the lines of gothic architecture in the morning mist. I'd heard whispers about the strangeness of the place. I was told that I risked my life going there; that the owner brandished a gun and roamed the heath looking for his lost love. Music and chatter, laughter and screams could be heard miles away in the night. Neighbours said the lovers who'd inhabited Hareton Hall lived there still, as young and beautiful as they ever were; haunted.

The family, the Spencers, originated in Yorkshire and could trace their lineage back a thousand years. Their secrets wove through history and time and family portraits. I held in my hand a photograph of Mr Spencer, an aristocrat with an interest in archaeology, returning from a trip to Spain with a small child. Among other documents, there was a photograph of the entire family, arriving to greet Mr Spencer and his newly adopted son at the airport. The family were generationally wealthy. Mr Spencer had an interest in Botany. According to my documents, he kept to himself and his study. Within the file, I also retained the marriage notice of the daughter, Kate. This was long before the family feud that had ignited decades of dispute.

In the picture was a beautiful mother with ink black curls. The older teenage boy, Harrison, had a scowl on his face and headphones on his ears. He appeared tuned out from the proceedings. The girl, her dark curls tied with an unruly red ribbon, revealed an adorable cherub face. Aged six, she peeked out from behind her mother and stole the picture. It was this child's face I remembered long after I'd set the image aside.

As I walked along the winding road that led from Hampstead Heath towards Hareton Hall, I passed another magnificent home, The Grange. This was a Georgian mansion hidden behind a maze of orange trees as opposed to The Hall where photographs showed gargoyles at its entrance. The signatures I was required to collect involved the ownership of both properties.

I'd been advised not to try to park along the icy road that connected the houses on opposite sides of the heath. Instead, I'd driven to a spot along the frosty lane which meant I had to walk the rest of the way in the rain. Late afternoon seemed to be losing light but then all the days were dark now as London turned rapidly into winter. It was not a good time to walk about the borough. A man had recently gone missing and was yet to be found. As I was surrounded by street crime in my first position as junior solicitor at a criminal law firm, I was not perturbed.

I pushed the family photograph, covered in plastic, deep inside my briefcase along with some handwritten journals kept by Kate Spencer, the only daughter of the house, and one by the housekeeper, Greta Gardner. Greta's journal contained a collection of various yearly expenses with some alarming family details written in the margins. Both contained valuable information entrusted to me. I noticed The Grange to my right, a well-kept home, built not far from a local landmark, Kenwood House. The Grange held some of the allure, yet I suspected hosted none of the secrets, of Hareton Hall.

The history of the Spencer family haunted me as I walked. I remembered words and snippets from the bizarre journals. For example, Heath was described as_, "a pale little boy with sharp milk teeth!" _This journal scribble was mixed with the photographs I resolved to return to their rightful owner. As I rounded the corner, I was almost as keen to talk to Greta Gardner, the housekeeper and keeper of secrets, as I was to speak with the owner of The Hall.

The heath was silent and stark in bare winter.

I'd visited during summer as a child but never with such purpose in my step. To my right and to my great relief, I saw the entrance to a pub. I'd been there with my family once, just after I'd graduated from university. I decided to warm myself and ask for directions.

The Horse and Ale used to serve delicious roast dinners and hot toddies. I hoped it hadn't changed too much in the intervening years.

I settled in front of the fire, grateful for the familiarity as I drank my hot, strong mulled wine. When the waiter asked me if I needed anything extra, I asked him for directions to Hareton Hall.

'Who wants to know?' The low, gruff voice of a man, perhaps in his thirties, spoke to me from behind one of the many sofas. He had a plate of what appeared to be lamb, dipped in gravy and a large pint of dark ale in his hand. His dog lay lovingly, sleeping at his feet, apparently unbothered by the smell of roasted meat.

'Ah, I do.'

'Really? And who might you be?'

To say he was unfriendly would be an understatement.

'I'm well, who are you?'

He almost laughed.

'I asked you first.'

'I'm Tom Bennett, the junior partner from _Bennett & Sons_. I have an appointment at Hareton Hall.'

'To see the owner?'

'Yes, and who might you be?'

'I am the owner.'

He didn't smile. He rose slowly. For a youngish man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. He looked like a hard partying insomniac. I offered him my hand and he took it obligingly. If I was trained to comment on such things, which I suppose I am, I'd say he was tall and fairly handsome. The air of sleeplessness hung over him like a cloud. He was polite yet unfriendly; he did not smile. He was unshaven; his dark shirt was unironed but expensive. He stared at me coldly.

The publican scurried off to some far flung corner of the establishment. One of the lights overhead flickered as the man moved closer to me. He picked up an implement from the fireside and stoked the flame.

I took another sip of my drink and waited for him to speak.

'Well then, it's me you've come to see. Place is empty, except for my housekeeper Greta, a few horses in the stables and the dogs.

'Perhaps I could come to Hareton Hall?'

'What for?'

'It would help if I sighted the property and it may be easier to talk there.'

'I am busy this evening. If you had come earlier as arranged…'

'I was detained. It was further away from Hampstead than I expected.'

'Even so, I don't have visitors at night. I shall arrange for you to come tomorrow morning. Twenty minutes.'

'It may take more than twenty minutes.'

The rain poured down overhead and with it the darkness of early winter. For once, I was glad as a young man, not to have to hurry back to a wife and family.

The man shrugged.

'Well, it's getting late. You can stay here tonight - for free; I own the pub. I'll send my driver to get you at nine in the morning. We can finalize the matter then.'

He smiled for the first time at the blonde, middle-aged woman who entered the room and moved softly behind the bar.

'This is Greta; she used to be the housekeeper at Hareton Hall; raised me as a child; she'll fill you in on the story. Look after him Greta and see he gets a comfortable bed.'

Greta looked at me warily.

He whistled to his dog, a large amiable Labrador who obviously worshipped his master.

The dog sat up and barked. I think his owner was used to people behaving in a similar manner.

It turned out Greta had quite a tale to tell as she chatted to me by the fireside that evening. I asked her to identify her household journal and she was pleased to do so. I marked it as "Exhibit A" in my head; it was to be a wealth of information. I had the journal open on my knee as we talked. The Spencer crest hovered above us as Greta spoke in detail about the family she'd once served. Before I retired to bed, I could not resist writing down what she said as I did not want to forget what she told me. As I offered to pay for my drinks, I was more intrigued than ever about the legends of Hareton Hall and the fate of the Spencer children who lived there, more than thirty years ago…

**Chapter Two**

_**Wild Child **_

I read Greta's words as I rested on the hotel bed. They were written in a firm, definite hand:

_February 1978 (second entry) - we were not sure what country the child originated from. When Mr Spencer brought him back from his trip, I thought he'd finally gone mad, like his ancestors. I said, 'You were searching for fossils, not people!' But he just shrugged and said, 'Well, I saw him on the street and no one claimed him so I filled in the paperwork, paid a requisite sum and now here he is. All this had happened many months before the actual collection. Perhaps the child was originally from Europe or maybe as close as Liverpool? The foundling had papers to say he was ours, signed by a solicitor, no less. He didn't speak a word that first night. His bell bottom jeans and shoes were filthy and caked with mud from the walk along the driveway. Dirt splattered on my kitchen floor. I thought it was very inconsiderate of Mr Spencer not to have put clean clothes on him but grown men rarely think of small comforts. The dark haired, six-year-old person stared at me blankly and flinched when I tried to go anywhere near him. He kicked and scratched me so hard when I went to take his jacket (where I read the "instructions") that I honestly wondered how I'd cope looking after a child in such a…state. Harrison, almost eight years the child's senior, shoved the boy when he thought no one was looking and whispered to him before leaving the house, 'Who do you think you are? Invading my home like this… I'll make you pay, charity case!'_

_Kate, who had always been naughty (a fact belied by her pretty and innocent face), and never close to her much older brother or absent socialite mother, became attached to the new boy who we named Heath and resolved to raise as part of our family… _

It was all rather formal yet strangely personal.

I'd learnt, as a child, Heath Spencer had no language and apparently very little memory of his origins. He'd certainly made up for it judging by the detailed and sophisticated legal correspondence he'd addressed to me personally and which I had spread out on the desk in my room. Heath's letters addressed the various ownership and personal scandals involving both himself and his adopted relatives in almost forensic detail. Events happened a long time ago, but the origins and complex story of the properties in question, both Hareton Hall and The Grange, involved both the Spencer and Hunt families whose paperwork I now studied. Their generational feuds had been the talk of the firm, behind closed doors, of course.

According to family tradition, the Spencer children were sent away to school the year they turned twelve. However, the friendship between the two youngest children began much earlier, with a whisper. It was as if Kate was the first to know, although his adopted father must have suspected. There was something different about Heath.

The first night the child arrived, Kate wandered up to him when he was left alone in the kitchen and the little boy hissed at her, baring his tiny, white incisor fangs. Kate scowled then smiled and moved towards the small boy, rather than rejecting him. As if he were some exotic pet, she tried to pat his head. The boy, suddenly ashamed of his behaviour, covered his mouth. Heath had only recently learned how to recede his little fangs but sometimes they came out when he was frightened or stressed. Kate took his hand and led him upstairs.

When they were in the play room, she asked him to explain more. It was their secret, she told him. Kate loved to have secrets. The little boy didn't know what to tell her.

'I was born this way,' he whispered.

His biological father had kept notes but Mr Spencer wanted proof. After many secretive tests with a Vampire specialist on Harley Street it was explained to Mr Spencer that the child had a rare condition. There was a line of Spanish vampires from thousands of years ago that he possibly descended from through his mother. His blood type was unknown. What they did ascertain was that the child might grow out of his ways and never fully mature into a "blood sucker" as the specialist called his "breed". He also warned Mr Spencer, "Tell no one." Fearing society would reject his new son, Mr Spencer agreed.

Heath was told his cravings for blood would not reach full maturity until he did (at around eighteen) and in the meantime, he could be easily sustained with a diet high in protein and iron. He would keep ageing until then. As the venom in his blood was diluted, he would be given protection from sun. His image would appear in photographs and mirrors until it began to fade in adulthood. Kate's father had been assured by the vampire specialist it was completely safe for Heath to go to church and be around other children.

Mr Spencer was given a list of instructions similar to the ones the boy arrived with; that he had to be careful of the child's fair skin in the sun, (although a small amount wouldn't hurt as long as he took his daily supplements and wore a pendant protecting him from daylight). According to the notes, the child's mother was horrified the baby had crackled and almost burnt in the light. Heath had also tried to bite her when nursing. Finally, unable to cope, his mother had left him with Spanish nuns when he was just three months old. She had placed the protective amulet around the baby's neck along with a kiss as she broke down and put him in a basket outside the gates of the orphanage. As he grew, incorrigible, the child daily escaped and ran himself ragged along the Spanish streets. That was how Mr Spencer found him, pale and hungry for protein, like a wild kitten.

After the child arrived at Hareton Hall his incisors were painlessly filed down during regular check-ups at the family dentist and life resumed as normal. Life for Heath was a regular routine of vitamin taking, avoiding the sun, wearing his amulet (even in the bath) and craving roast dinners (his favourite). The child was deemed eccentric and wild but no one except Mr Spencer, Kate and Heath knew he was actually different. He had cravings for cooked, red meat, a desire to sleep half the day and stay up all night, but those were habits and slowly, Heath conformed to the ways of the household.

On one occasion, he had been caught off-guard when Kate's mother had walked in on the child playing with his train set and Heath, suddenly frightened, sensed an intruder. He turned round and hissed, before realizing the full impact of what he had done. His new mother fled from the room screaming, "He's not normal! He's just not normal!" Heath tried to apologize. The woman wouldn't listen. She packed her bags and wanted to take Kate with her; the little girl refused to go.

After Kate's mother left Hareton Hall, her father withdrew from the world. Mr Spencer retired from normal life and began to live in relative seclusion. He went for long walks during the day and took trips abroad, collecting plants to study and write about in his home office.

Growing up, Kate and Heath ran wild. As the years wore on, Mr Spencer became a hermit and slept often, worked in the garden and read the Bible fireside in the afternoons. One by one, the staff began to give notice, except the housekeeper Greta, who'd been with the family since she was sixteen. Greta had more to do than keep track of the wayward children who were soon expelled from the local primary school for "non-attendance, unruly behaviour" and (worst), "attempted biting," something Kate hotly denied as Heath looked on sheepishly.

Although Greta knew Heath was unusual, he'd managed not to reveal his secret to her. There had to be something wrong with him, Greta thought, but nothing that boarding school wouldn't fix. Besides, no one was perfect.

Although Mr Spencer felt especially partial to his youngest children, he began counting the days until they were old enough to be sent to Yardley Mansion School in Scotland, a Spencer family tradition. Perhaps they would learn something useful about discipline in such a prestigious establishment. After all, it would be nearly impossible to escape lessons there and Heath's condition seemed almost entirely under control, his penchant for roast dinners aside. But after all, who except vegetarians did not like a good roast?

When Heath grew stronger (useful against Harrison) and his inclinations grew rougher, he hid them and learned to control his desire to sometimes nip Kate on her leg or arm. In fact, he'd be horrified if she knew he once imagined tasting the pretty little vein in her wrist.

He'd educated himself and knew biting was wrong and never in a billion years would he wish to hurt the person he loved most in the world. Heath religiously took his supplements, wore his amulet and kept himself sustained with his favourite juice and meat. As he grew older, his cravings were not subsiding quite as easily.

Heath was closer to Kate than anyone. Apart from Kate's father, whom Heath regarded warmly, she was the only friend he'd ever had. Well, except for Greta, who, after a faltering start, grew to look upon Heath with great fondness. At first Heath didn't like Greta. She was always huffing and puffing in the kitchen about the extra work and ignored him when he asked lots of questions until he stopped talking altogether and then she said things like, "Has the cat got your tongue, young man?"

Harrison was at home for half-term holidays when the children started playing a particularly savage game of sardines. Heath had been caught running through the attic by Harrison and was beaten with a stick. Heath then (unsuccessfully) tried to drive his homemade stake into the older boy's leg. After witnessing Harrison's cruelty, Greta had become Heath's ally. She told Mr Spencer who reprimanded Harrison for picking on the smaller child and withdrew the older boy's financial privileges for a month. Harrison was angry; the boy was half his height but twice as strong.

'I'll get you back for this, charity case,' the older boy said as he again hit Heath when nobody else was about. There was enough force in that clip to make Heath's ear bleed. Heath bared his teeth, as he waited for the strength in his venom to take over. Kate swiped her elder brother and before long the three of them were wrestling, pushing, kicking and shoving each other until the little girl was almost squashed in the pile beneath. This just led the two boys to start fighting all over again. Heath bit Harrison on the wrist and spat out the taste just as quickly. Harrison called him a "little animal". Kate screamed so hard Greta had to race up the stairs to break them up.

Harrison would have been sent back to school to suffer the long weekend alone before term started but Greta noticed spots on all three children as she was sending them out of the room separately. They had developed chicken pox, which Harrison blamed on the local "state school scum" - Heath and his bratty little sister's school friends.

'Oh be quiet, Harrison!' Greta warned. 'I think it is far more likely that you carried the chicken pox back with you from that posh boys' school your father pays the earth for…'

Chastened, Harrison went back to bed moaning and demanding more sympathy. Both Harrison and Kate, spoiled before their mother left, demanded to be waited on hand and foot but not Heath. He had lain there, expecting very little sympathy (eyeing the specially delivered basket of blood oranges), sleeping most of the day and happy to gnaw on a chicken leg when it was given. Because he was a stoic little boy, Heath had won Greta over. She kept the best treats for him - fruit and sandwiches for his lunch (the boy always left the bread and ate the meat) - fussing over him like a young mother. This too, bred Harrison's resentment. Heath, for the first time in his young life, basked in the adoration the females of Hareton Hall gave him, and he grew into a tall, robust child whom Greta predicted would be, "a real lady killer one day".

At eight years old, that day hadn't quite arrived.

**Chapter Three**

_**Kate and Heath**_

After Mr and Mrs Spencer separated, Hareton Hall was never the same.__Mutual loneliness, secrets and headstrong natures had drawn Heath and Kate into an alliance. The days went by and as they grew together, the children craved freedom.

One cold day in November Kate and Heath lay side by side on Hampstead Heath making starfish in the snow. There was no sun as usual. Their arms and legs reached out forming windmills in the ice, so that their fingers almost touched.

'Kate?' the small boy asked as he sat up and wrapped his scarf around his neck and ears. He had dark hair and blue eyes and was as strikingly good looking as the girl, with her midnight curls and icy, reddened cheeks. Both of them had perfectly white teeth from their frequent trips to the dentist and Heath, in eighteen months, had learnt how to control his fangs, perfectly. Now that he was a little older, he never revealed them in public and they didn't need to be filed anymore.

'Yes,' she replied.

'I wish Harrison would stop picking on us.'

'Me too, he's…mean. Every time he comes home from school I dread it. He takes over the house and pinches me and locks me in my room when no one is about. Ever since mother…I can't say the words,' she said as she put her small hand to her mouth and Heath noticed a tear drying on her face. The recent abandonment of Kate by her mother had not overly concerned Heath, since the woman had had nothing to do with him on a daily basis and had shown little interest in his upkeep. But he understood how it felt to be left and reached out to commiserate with Kate.

That first night, after Mrs Spencer left, Kate and Heath had played with the train set until, eyes heavy, they fell asleep together on the floor. Greta had placed a pillow under each small head. Ever after, they slept near each other or on opposite sides of the wall. They made hand puppet shows in the moonlight on the walls of the play room and Heath always let Kate win at games.

'Don't cry,' Heath told Kate that day in the Hampstead meadow. 'You have to be strong. If you cry, your tears will turn to crystal in this weather and freeze on your face. Imagine how awful that would look. Yuck.'

Kate laughed. 'Perhaps it's for the best. You can save my crystal tears in a jar,' she joked.

'I don't like it when you cry,' Heath said, wiping the tears from her face.

Kate sat up and sniffed into her coat sleeve.

The boy took her mittened hand.

'Never cry again, Kate. We must be stronger than that, stronger than them.'

'Stronger than this?'

Kate rolled up the edge of her jeans to where her knee showed the beginnings of a scab and a remarkably deep bruise.

'It happened when Harrison kicked me because I wouldn't give him the riding whip father bought me for my birthday. I was afraid he'd whip Hero too much.'

To her surprise, Heath moved forward, leaned over her leg, touched the scab and moved closer, almost as if he was going to lick it.

'That's gross,' Kate said, 'you were going to kiss it better like Greta would. , I hate kisses, unless I'm the one giving them!' the girl announced, pulling her leg closer.

Heath looked very dejected and turned his face away.

Kate smiled; glad to have evoked such a strong reaction. She was 'quite the little exhibitionist', as Greta told her once.

'I'm only kidding! Gotcha…' Kate smiled.

Heath grudgingly turned to face her.

Kate covered her knee and changed the subject. 'I heard you playing guitar this morning. I can hear you from my room when I wake up. You play much better than Harrison.'

Heath beamed with pride. He wasn't used to hearing praise before he'd moved to The Hall. His only real problem was his adopted brother.

As if reading his thoughts, Kate said, 'Never mind, we'll get Harrison back one of these days. C'mon, I'll race you to the bus stop. I found some coins in Harrison's coat pocket when he was sleeping. Now we can go and buy sweeties.'

Heath didn't want to disappoint her with his unnatural lack of desire for sugary lollies.

Instead, Heath picked up a stick and used it to plough through the snow quickly. He withheld the urge, like small children sometimes have, to bash the flower beds because he was fairly sure Kate wouldn't approve. In this way, the children civilized and complimented one another's personalities.

'One day, when we're grown up, I'll take care of you, Kate,' he said.

'Silly, you take care of me already.'

'When we're grown up we'll get married.'

'Even sillier, we're brother and sister.'

'Not really. We're not actually related.'

The boy was annoyed his suggestion had not been taken seriously. He reached into his pocket and dragged out a remarkably fresh, although slightly crumpled, wildflower.

'I've been saving this all morning to give to you,' he said, handing her the daisy.

'Thank you,' she said, dismissively. Kate was already thinking about how easily they could avoid going to school and go straight to the sweet shop instead.

The boy picked up his brown leather satchel and headed to the bus stop, ignoring Kate as he walked past her. 'That will teach her a lesson,' he thought.

'Stop! Now you are being the silly one,' the girl said. 'We both know we're not really brother and sister.'

Heath smiled at Kate as she took his hand. The frozen winds played with their hair and both children forgot their conversation as they ran to stop the bus as it moved forward. The little boy was amazed at how fast he'd begun to run, almost merging in double quick time across the meadow. He had to wait at the bus stop for the girl to catch up.

**Chapter Four**

_**The Grange**_

It was so cold Greta noticed Kate's breath first as she entered the kitchen and placed her school bag on the floor. Heath dawdled behind his eye-catching counterpart. Kate was meticulous about her appearance. Her perfect curls lay in bunches behind her ears, tied in royal blue ribbons, the colours of her school. Her long socks were not rippled as other children's were. In fact, the uniform she wore was in good condition, unstained and nearly uncrushed. Greta looked at Kate again. She knew that after her mother had fled, literally fled the house one night to go gallivanting around Europe with a man she'd met in rehab, Kate had become unmanageable - but bunking school? She really didn't know what to do about this.

From the moment Kate had been born her Papa had indulged her every childish whim, much to the displeasure of her mother who worried that the child would be spoiled and difficult, like Harrison. Well, he was in boarding school where Kate would surely be sent soon, just as her older brother had been.

As for the "wild child", as Greta thought of him, he looked completely unkempt – shirt hanging out, hair unbrushed, knees scratched. He ran upstairs to Kate's bedroom (a converted ballroom) or to his own, the more modestly sized room opposite, to play video games and listen to music. The children would lounge around on the floor (strewn with the striped wrappers of Kate's favourite boiled sweets) in the afternoons. They ate and listened to music, hardly bothering to even attempt their homework.

Heath had long ago discovered the path around the side of the house, through the kitchen door where the new au pair was standing and peeling potatoes for dinner. He fled past their elderly gardener and crept inside the kitchen, thinking he might sneak past, but Greta was too quick. She grabbed him by the hands.

'Wait.'

'What Greta?'

'Don't say "what", I know what you've been doing, or rather not doing.'

'You just said "what".'

'That's not what I meant.'

'Said it again…'

'Oh, you little rascal!'

Heath sighed.

'What is it Greta?'

'You haven't been to school, have you? You and Kate have been gallivanting on the High Street. I can't believe you've not been detained by police! The meadow must be too freezing even for both of you, scamps. And look at that bruise on your leg, Kate.'

Kate moved behind the bench protectively. She didn't want Greta to have too much knowledge about the behind-the-scenes household warfare.

'If that's Harrison's doing, I told you to tell me if he ever tries to hit either of you again! He's twice your age. Honestly, I don't know what this family has come to ever since your mother left. I'll be calling social services next. Or they'll be calling me.'

'Oh don't do that Greta. I just knocked into something when I was out riding…at pony club.'

Heath looked at Kate quickly, knowing if they told on Harrison again, it would only make matters worse the next time he came home.

'I told you to tell me if that older brother of yours so much as raises his voice. He wouldn't dare do it in my presence. But that doesn't give either of you an excuse to avoid school. It's a good thing Harrison is going away to University. By then, he won't even be coming home for holidays…'

Heath and Kate were too quick. Greta talked on whilst they ate everything on the kitchen countertop behind her.

When Greta stopped talking, Kate took a bottle of fizzy drink and Heath grabbed a packet of Parma ham and they raced up the stairs, rejoicing in the time when their play room was empty of responsible adults (almost always). They had the whole ancient second floor to themselves in the afternoons. They could play their games or crawl outside, along the ledge that connected them to the ground and the road that led them to The Grange. Heath liked to go fishing in the stream and learned to make an open fire and cook the food on it. He was more and more interested in living in this natural, primal way, even at such a young age.

Annabelle and Edmund Hunt were the same age as Heath and Kate and their nearest neighbours. They were so stuck up neither Heath nor Kate had ever spoken to them. The blonde girl had poked her tongue out at Kate once during ballet lessons at the local church hall. Neither of the girls had spoken to each another since.

Kate and Heath lived in a world of their own - a world with a secret language and two rooms that adjoined each other with archaic light fittings, tall ceilings and furniture passed down through generations.There was a shabby opulence surrounding their secret society of two. Kate's room had a canopied bed with cream sheets and a blanket and an old fashioned cream lace doll.

On occasions when the neighbourhood children were invited to tea, the doll's house intrigued all of Kate's jealous little acquaintances (mainly from school). But Kate never let Heath catch her staring at the perfect dolls in their pristine world longingly. She knew he'd think envy beneath her.

As he grew older, he became tougher and more boisterous, wanting to be outside more than inside which, Greta reasoned, was only natural in an almost twelve-year old boy. Heath remembered little of his origins. It was as if he'd only ever existed in Kate's world, something he knew to be untrue. Yet Kate's father was the only father he remembered. Mr Spencer had been kind to him so he loved him as he loved Kate. But he knew her father was not his real father and that the "blood" running through his veins had some kind of magic in it. He felt different to other boys his age - happier roaming the woods than sitting in a classroom.

Harrison, in his final year of school, was still a problem. Once, when he was home from school for a weekend and Mr Spencer was at a business conference in Brussels, Greta was called away for the afternoon. Kate's older brother rounded up the children after she left and locked them together in the attic after inviting some of his older school friends round to party. Harrison thought it would be fun to terrify the "little kids". Neither Kate nor Heath rewarded him with their tears but there had been an all-out fight in the hallway after the children had somehow managed to break the lock. Harrison hadn't expected this but it was the last time he underestimated Heath's strength.

When Kate's father arrived home early, only to discover Heath and Kate amidst a mess of teen partying and chaos, he hit the roof. Mr Spencer packed Harrison off to the strictest boy's boarding school in the South of England to complete his finals. It was a place where corporal punishment was yet to be banned another reason for the older brother to harbour resentment against the smaller children. They were soon to be packed off to Scotland, to a co-educational school, strict but far less rigid than where Harrison was going.

It was summer by then; Mr Spencer had grown frail just as Heath and Kate grew stronger and taller.

Hampstead was quiet. It was as if the entire borough had gone on holiday. Heath had taken to staying outside but on one particular rainy and overcast day, Kate took an entire chicken and a jug of orange juice out of the fridge and set out lunch in the upstairs playroom.

They sat together, enjoying their meal that last Saturday before they were due to board the train to Scotland. Both Kate and Heath had grown more studious in preparation for boarding school. They even finished reading the required list of books, lying on their backs, in the window seats of the playroom. Kate smiled at Heath - sometimes she thought her father had brought Heath home to be her exclusive friend.

September arrived after an endless summer of reading and night swimming in the indoor pool. The day before they were due to leave for Scotland, bright sun shone through the bay windows. Heath, uncomfortable, pulled his amulet close to his chest. His eyes felt sensitive to the light.

'C'mon children,' Greta said, wanting to make their last day at Hareton Hall memorable. 'Rise and shine. It's a lovely day. Why don't we all take a picnic outside and go to Hampstead Heath? School doesn't start until Monday. C'mon, get dressed.'

The children were excited as they pulled on their shoes.

In the parklands, Greta spread the checked blanket out on the lavender field under an umbrella and the children hungrily heaped food on plates. Heath got bitten by ants but barely made a peep even when Greta soothed his calf with warm tea. The boy had never known such care and in all his young years, never seen a spread of such magnificence. He ate three pieces of turkey, a chicken leg, ham, a left over chop, a slice of bacon and a huge glass of orange juice. Kate and Greta drank tea and ate most of the cucumber sandwiches.

Afterwards, the children went running to the ponds to feed the ducks. As Greta lay reading a magazine, Kate and Heath discovered the hidden conservatory in a secluded part of the park. It was like being in another world, one far removed from London or Spain or family fighting or anywhere they had ever known - a glass palace with a covered in roof and shards of dappled, muted light (not enough to make Heath's skin burn). The building was filled with remarkable tropical trees and flowers growing in an adjusted temperature. There were even garden chairs to sit on and stare in wonderment at the magical surroundings. Both children thought the same thing; that they'd found a remarkable secret, a place where they could hide…and meet.

**Chapter Five**

_**Edmund and Annabelle**_

This secluded section of Hampstead Heath also led to a hidden laneway that attached Hareton Hall to The Grange. Kate and Heath ran down the lane and it brought them out in the garden of the neighbouring property. They laughed when they saw their neighbours, Edmund and Annabelle, in the distance. Viewed through the low, floor-length windows of the Grange, the Hunt siblings were taking private dancing lessons. Heath had never seen a ballet class and thought the whole thing was hysterically funny. Kate thought it was rather beautiful, but she would never admit that. The Grange was a world beyond billowing cream curtains where all seemed tranquil and safe. When the dance teacher tried to demonstrate with Edmund, how to partner, Heath literally fell on the ground laughing.

'Who's out there?' Edmund shouted, turning towards the window. Heath and Kate crouched out of sight, beneath the sill.

'Mind you keep your eyes up here while we are dancing,' the woman, wearing leg warmers and a tight hair bun, scolded him. Edmund reluctantly looked away. Annabelle glanced up when the teacher wasn't looking and noticed two children. The boy looked vaguely familiar to her, about the same age, running away from the house in the long grass. The girl tumbled in the heather and before long they were laughing and running, fading into the meadow.

If anyone had asked, Annabelle would have described them as the opposite of her and her brother; free. The blonde girl wished she could join them. Instead, her glacial, childish image, secured in tight ballet slippers and pink ribbons, her unsmiling yet lovely face, mocked her in the mirror.

That night, Heath lay awake under the covers of his bed, his school trunk packed, his uniforms tagged with his initials, perfectly starched and ironed. The summer wind outside howled through the trees and rain fell softly on the roof. He could see shadows of the branches outside. A breeze swept through the heath across the pond and along the heather fields. Then all he could hear were the traces of it, and in those traces, a whisper, and in that whisper, the sound of a tap at his door.

Kate came wandering into his room with her hair in curlers as she wanted to make a good "first day" impression at her new school.

'You look ridiculous,' Heath said. 'Go back to bed. You know Greta has warned you about not distracting me now that we are going to be in separate houses at our new school.'

Kate, hurt, turned and walked out of the room. Heath was sorry to have been so mean but how could he explain his issues to Kate? Lately, the desire to sink his teeth into her wrist was becoming stronger. He'd been taking his medication twice a day and was just about to take his evening dose when Kate arrived to tell him her hopes and dreams for the future. She'd gone back to her room, crawled upon her quilted bed and fallen asleep, listening to the storm rage outside her window.

Late, very late that night, the young girl woke to the sound of the screaming trees and the branches thrashing the window pane. She would not be rejected this time and opened the connecting door to find Heath fast asleep.

'Heath,' Kate whispered. 'Wake up.'

'What's wrong?' the boy said, crawling out from the sleeping bag he slept in for security – the one Greta had tried, with little success, to take away from him these past six years.

'I had a dream about us.'

'Shh. Go back to sleep, Kate.'

'I dreamt I was left outside in the rain, freezing in winter. I cut my arm on your window and it bled and hurt and I had to beg you to let me inside…'

Heath groaned. 'Don't say things like that Kate. I would never hurt you.' He moved uncomfortably, the venom sometimes pulsed more strongly in his blood at night, but he'd never told anyone this. 'Go back to sleep, Kate. It's almost morning. You know Greta doesn't like it when you come in here anymore…' He was due to take his morning vitamins, and then he'd be sure to feel normal for at least eight hours.

Heath rolled over. Kate hovered again and began to cry as she rocked his sleeping bag, forcing him to open his eyes.

'Heath, Heath, wake up.' He rolled over unwillingly. 'Promise me…promise me something.'

'Alright, I promise, now go back to sleep.'

'Promise me, if that ever happens, you'll let me in.'

'Heath smiled and shook his head sleepily, 'I promise. Now go back to bed.' Heath took his capsules from the bedside table and gulped them down in the morning light.

Kate crawled beside him, dragging her blanket around her, as he turned over. The girl gained comfort from her nightmare only when she managed to rest her head in the crook of the reluctant boy's shoulder.

**Chapter Six **

_**Katarina – Present Day**_

After a relatively comfortable sleep and the beginnings of an unusual story told to me by Greta Gardner as I sat by the fire in the owner's favourite chair, I was more than intrigued. I finally visited The Hall the next morning, cited the property, spoke briefly to the owner regarding matters of importance and took down the details required. I was then, surprisingly, invited to dinner at the pub the following week to finish up our business. As I drove out of the gravel driveway and slowly passed the pub, I saw that it was closed for the morning. I imagined the fireside warmly lit in the evening and the owner, who harboured his own secrets, sitting in my place.

That evening, Heath sat in his favourite armchair, reading the newspaper with more interest than he usually showed. He had the look of a burnt out rock star in his late twenties, still handsome and relatively young. He called his dog to heel and turned to sit at his chair near the fire. Greta was nowhere in sight; she'd gone home earlier to take care of her own children. A barman had taken her place.

Heath was sipping ale and still reading the newspaper when he heard a gaggle of shrieking teenagers who instantly irritated him. It was legal to drink at eighteen but he wondered why - girls dressed like tramps in denim shorts and black tights chugging down alcohol was a negative result. He should have imposed a dress code, he thought gruffly. Society had really gone downhill since the nineties. Then he remembered some of the looks of that era were pretty bad, too. He must be getting old, he thought, although no one would have known it. His face was harder but retained the handsome, boyish features of his youth. Recently, since turning thirty-nine, he'd felt quite ancient. Yet many of his business associates assumed he was much younger than he really was. There was no point in an explanation, revealing the secret of his youth.

He resigned to gruffly patting his dog and when he looked up the teenaged girls began joking around, making more noise than before. One of them, with long blonde hair and too much black mascara, waved at him. He turned away and stoked the fire. He wondered where their parents were and felt annoyed that his candle-lit lair was being infiltrated by the local riff raff. He looked back at his paper and shook his head.

His own son, annoyingly public school educated and hopelessly addicted to clubbing and drinking and smart-mouthing him, would no doubt have tried to chat them up. Heath had mostly, throughout his bizarre and unexpected life, been interested in people who at least seemed the same age as he really was. Since school, he'd felt people who hadn't lived as much of the journey as he had, had less to teach him. There was also the inevitable problem of his lack of ageing. People had started to notice. One of his old school acquaintances had asked him if he was on human growth hormones.

Hard living had taken its toll but Heath would never look older than thirty. His specialist told him that, realistically, he shouldn't expect to physically age more than twenty-six years (the age when his bones stopped growing and his venom fully matured). His sleeplessness kept him looking closer to thirty. The only thing that could finish him was a prolonged dose of sunlight or a stake through his heart, but agelessness, immortality was becoming a problem. His friends and associates looked a decade older. The longer he stayed in Hampstead, the more the whispers grew until they became openly hostile questions.

Heath flicked past the entertainment section in the paper, highlighting yet another vapid celebrity. His gaze then rested on the financial columns of the newspaper.

Normally these articles would have bored him but since the most recent financial crisis, he'd found them a lot more interesting. The companies he'd bought and discarded prior to 2008 had made him very rich, even richer than the acquisition of land and residential property. He was so wealthy that he only kept the Hampstead house out of sentiment. Just the thought of being nostalgic at his age, when some were just beginning family life, made him question his own sanity.

The candle on the low table near him flickered and his dog barked, unexpectedly, causing Heath to look up from his paper; what he saw made him catch his breath for the first time in years.

Kate's face.

The hair was lighter and straighter, but the face and body were the same. Her eyes were identical. Dark brown and large with long black lashes, hiding secrets he had only learnt once: same height, same face, same voice. His breath was taken away with a low sigh and he knew if he didn't speak to this woman… who was barely more than a girl, he would regret it forever. Still, it would take another drink to work up the courage.

The girl, in her long cream scarf looked up and matched his gaze. In the minute it took for Heath to decide whether to speak with her, the band played that song Kate loved….

'_It's my favourite,' Kate had said, laughing as she swapped earphones and grabbed Heath's hand in the clandestine meeting they'd had in the ten minutes before morning classes started. 'You can't imagine how much I love this song,' she added, dragging him through the school hall making a sunny spectacle of herself…wearing way too much eyeliner to get through the day without detention._

The girl was the image of Kate, yet not Kate. She ordered a fizzy drink but a pint of ale was placed in front of her. She glanced around the room, noting Heath's drink which had somehow been swapped with hers. The waiter was clearly not paying attention. Heath wondered if he'd finally lost his mind as the girl's stare intensified. She looked back at the barman. Oblivious to being studied, Kate's double wore a jaunty beret on her dark hair and had a colourful smile on her lips as her friends toasted her birthday.

'Happy eighteenth Katarina!' they yelled in unison.

Heath remembered the date. He was reminded every year.

In that moment, he hesitated to approach her and instead, glanced down at his paper. Moments later, as Heath read wearily beside the fire, a voice said, 'I think we've been given the wrong drink.'

Heath could not resist a question as he looked up at her shiny adolescent face and she replaced the cocktail glass in front of him with the ale.

'You're not, it can't be, Kate Spencer's daughter?'

'Kate? Oh, you mean my mother Kate?'

'Yes.'

'I suppose so. I'm Katarina Hunt. This is my birthday, obviously,' the girl said, glancing back at her friends who hovered near the bar.

'I know,' Heath said, surprised anyone would think he could forget such a thing.

'My father and I live just across the Heath. I've seen your photograph in the newspaper. You must be, my uncle?'

Her statement was so loaded Heath didn't know where to begin.

'Yes. You…you are my son's cousin.'

'My cousin… that's right… big family secret, no one speaks about it. None of the family even speaks to each other, clearly. How is it possible you don't look a day over thirty?'

'It's…the dark,' Heath replied.

She made a joke of it as only the young can. She was looming at the table now and had the audacity to pat his dog on its shaggy head. Heath's pet beamed from all her attention, a fact that Heath found mildly irritating.

'Do I… do I look like my mother?' the teenage girl said as the fire flickered.

And then it occurred to Heath, that instead of answering he could make her an offer she'd find difficult to refuse. After all, it was not too late and it was the girl's right to meet her cousin and see her mother's childhood home.

'Why don't you come back with me… to Hareton Hall? Her portrait remains on the wall. I'm headed there now. You can meet your cousin. There are also some photographs you might never have seen from…before. I'm sure your…father…won't mind.'

Katarina's eyes flashed and Heath saw a great deal of Kate's personality once again. It almost scared him, but not quite.

'Heel,' he said to his dog who'd started yapping excitedly (again) and was obviously beside himself at the smell of new company.

'Behave yourself,' Heath growled.

'Well, my friends…'

Katarina glanced back to the bar as the tall girl with blonde hair wandered over and gave Heath a bemused smile. Katarina introduced them to each other.

'Oh, so this is your uncle, Katty?' the girl asked in disbelief, as if to say, _yeah, right, he's way too young and hot._

'Kind of…we've only just met.'

Katarina's friend stifled a giggle as if she didn't believe her but either way, she didn't care. If Katty wanted to chat to this hot older man, that was her affair.

'Well, the night is young and so are we but we have to be going, early game tomorrow and all that. Are you coming with us Kat?'

At that moment Heath wore his most amiable expression.

Katarina knew she might only get this one chance to discover all she could about the people she'd only seen once or twice in old photographs.

The man in front of her was young and extremely handsome, yet so hard and cold. Something in her desired to visit his world, meet the cousin she'd never met as a child, see the house where her mother had been raised, learn the secret her family had kept for a generation.

'No,' Kate said. Then she looked at Heath and added, 'I'm coming with you.'

**Chapter Seven**

_**The Storm **_

His cravings had been less extreme this evening and he was fairly sure the parlour, where he kept his supply of freshly caught game, was locked. He did not wish this stranger to encounter an instant surprise. It would turn her off ever returning and Heath did not want to risk that just yet. He could only imagine the look of horror on her face if she was to discover his secret. They reached the gates through the midnight mist and Heath stopped the car with a jolt. He drove the vehicle fast and hard. He was not used to having guests. Heath had little thought for his passenger. Katarina arrived at the house looking white and surprised.

The girl shivered.

'Are you cold?'

'Yes.'

'Here, take this,' he said absently.

Heath pulled a red shawl out of the glove compartment and handed it to her.

'Who's?'

'It was your mother's,' he added.

Katarina didn't bother to ask what it was doing in his car.

The girl's fingers had practically frozen during the twenty minute drive that took them from icy country lane to mansion gates. Katarina had heard about this place only once during her childhood, had seen it from the heath but had never dared venture into its overrun grounds. They entered the hidden garden through the foggy, wrought iron gates that led to Hareton Hall.

After a few minutes of walking across slippery grounds, strange, open-mouthed statues greeted Katarina at the grand entrance.

Her father had never allowed her to speak of the Spencers and especially not her uncle. But recently, she and her cousin Linus had connected via the web and Katarina was more than a little intrigued about the mysterious 'other half' of her family. The outside lights came on as they walked over the gravel towards the front door which was overrun with creepers.

Her father would be concerned about her late night visit to The Hall but Katarina was fed up with being wrapped in egg shells. She pulled the red shawl round her shoulders and stuffed her curls into her woollen cap, dragging it over her ears.

'Quick,' Heath said, rubbing his hands. 'It's frozen out here. Be careful of the ice.'

She took his arm, surprised at how hard and strong the muscles felt. She hadn't expected her workaholic uncle to be so welcoming.

'I give the staff leave on weekends, can't stand them about me and I usually work on Saturdays anyway,' he added, amiably enough. _Rude, arrogant, reclusive_ were all words she had heard in connection with this man. So far, he was nothing like his press.

Apart from a few cobwebs at the side of the stone entrance, which was covered with climbing plants, the interior of the hall was miraculous; turning a simple switch lit up grand chandeliers that led to a parlour, kitchen and vast hall and dining room. There was a series of ancestral portraits lining the walls to the right of the entrance - one of her mother. The interiors were lush but tasteful.

Heath wandered into the kitchen after they'd walked the length of the entrance.

Katarina was agog. She was used to being the richest girl at her all-girls' school but she had never seen such opulence. Her hand brushed the entrance hall side table and wall

of mirrors as they walked towards the drawing room.

'Ah, I see Greta's left a note. Greta was my housekeeper and she used to look after your mother and me…when we were little. She was not much older than we were. Seems funny now,' he mused as he found the key to the cabinet.

'Greta locks it, she gets worried when I drink alone,' Heath said, 'but I know where she hides the key.'

Katarina looked around her.

'Another drink?' Heath asked.

'Yes,' Katarina said.

'Something stronger?'

'Yes, please.'

'Brandy?'

'Okay.'

'Brandy is best on cold winter nights,' Heath chuckled to himself, pouring her less than he normally would, though she had officially reached legal drinking age. Katarina wondered if he was over the limit but his hand was steady as he carried the decanter into the Edwardian drawing room. Drinking brandy in the evenings was as normal to Heath as breathing.

'Was this once…a ballroom?' Katarina asked as she unwound her red scarf with the graceful moves of a ballet dancer.

'It was not,' Heath said, sitting easily on the black leather sofa.

'It is definitely big enough.'

'Funny. I remember thinking that when I arrived here the first time. Actually, the ballroom was upstairs. For some reason, the children's rooms were built connecting to it, so we often heard dancing - "partying" as you'd put it - loud noises, fighting. He noticed the look of surprise on Kate's face.

'Where's Linus?'

'Not home yet, apparently. Probably at a dance club.'

'Oh. I met him once, online.'

'How modern,' Heath mused.

Heath checked his text as the wind started to howl and announce its presence in a storm. The rain trickled down slowly at first, like water on tin, then the storm gushed through the

open window, spraying its fury over the low table and threatening a vase of flowers. Katarina moved to hold it upright.

Heath's phone beeped, relaying a text.

'That's Linus. He won't be home for an hour or so; nice of him to let me know. To be honest Katarina, I thought you might be a…good influence on my son.'

Heath pulled the window down as far as it would go, shutting out most of the storm.

'Why? Is he out of control?' Katarina joked.

Heath turned to look at the girl squarely.

'He is spoiled, Katarina, and weak. I fear I may have indulged him.'

Katarina glanced at the photographs on the wall. She wasn't sure how to respond to his directness.

'But you have another…son?'

'Oh, that's Harrison's wife's brother, Hinton. He lives here and works in the evenings. You may have already met him. He studies at the same college,' Heath said, starting to feel the familiar tightness in his arms. He'd need to feed and take his medication soon.

Katarina had told Heath during the car trip all about where she studied.

'I've heard about him,' she said, reluctant to tell Heath about his nephew's reputation. The girl looked around and sighed as the storm and the darkness swamping the confines of The Hall seemed to embrace her. Heath was taken aback at the image she made in the half-light, so similar to the photographs he had of Kate, tucked away in his wardrobe. The need to take his vitamins and drink Magenta overcame Heath. He quickly excused himself and began to walk out of the room.

'I'll get some photographs,' he offered. 'Should keep you busy until Linus returns at some unearthly hour. I'm not even sure which club he's gone to but once he's out he doesn't come home until late. I could drive you back to The Grange, but to be honest, we should wait for the weather to clear.'

'Of course,' Katarina said. There was obviously no choice since storm warning, news flashes were being broadcast. Heath turned to leave the room and Katarina flicked the switch on the flat screen and turned on some music instead. Something old and classical, Katarina thought. The low lighting flashed once and then the power went completely: no television, no CD, no sound except the thrashing of water on trees.

'I'll get the candles,' Heath offered. 'I know where Greta keeps them,' he added.

'Okay.'

Kate froze. The house was way creepier in the dark.

Moments later, Heath came back with lamps for each of them.

'Old-fashioned, I know, but they work.'

It occurred to Heath that from outside the window any stranger could see him entertaining a young female. Of course, they'd have to make it past the vast security on the neighbouring property, which he also owned, to find this place. Still, the thought suddenly bothered him as he pulled the curtains. His intentions for this girl had nothing to do with forming any kind of connection with her. She was merely the final piece in the jigsaw puzzle that formed his bizarre life, if that's what it was called.

He was determined not to let her realize she was trapped. The girl must want to stay, he thought, at least for now. He wondered how to get her to agree, as he stopped in the kitchen and took his medication mixed with protein powder. Heath was able to drink a variety of blood but tonight he felt like 0-negative. He glanced out the window as he guzzled, noting the heaviness of the rain. The dark, vicious winters fuelled his fantasies… and his nightmares. When he finished drinking, he thought he should find the photographs first - distract the girl.

He'd heard the neighbours at the pub gossiping about Hareton Hall but their stories had never bothered him until now.

He ventured into Kate's old room in the half-light and opened the door to her wardrobe which was a converted spare room. Her things had barely been touched since they'd been packed away when Kate had left The Hall forever. He was tall and could easily reach the top shelf but her many shoes had been piled together. There was a loud crash as some folders tumbled down in front of him.

_Blast that boy_, he thought. Of course Hinton had been in here rummaging through their old school texts and files. People often wondered why he'd adopted Hinton from Harrison as a six year old, but he never liked to comment publicly on family matters. He didn't believe in filling the gossip columns with his motives and every minute detail of his family

life though people in cyberspace now did. It was bad enough that the many girlfriends he'd had over the years since his wife left him had talked about him publicly. Heath felt social networking sometimes degenerated into an excuse for public one-upmanship and he wanted no part of that. But then, he had more than most to hide.

He wondered what the boy could possibly have been looking for in the room that now housed a filing cabinet in the corner. He recalled a recent conversation with Greta as he rummaged…

'Let's be honest Heath, I'm fed up with your haphazard lifestyle. I promised to stay until the children were raised and they're grown up now…almost. They don't need me anymore and nor do you. Everything's under control.'

'Don't leave us, Greta.'

'That's not the point Heath. The place itself is just _filled _with ghosts. I don't mean literally, I mean from the past…and you should think about selling it…for your own good. I have my own children to raise, Heath. Move on. Get married again. Start anew. Put away the old ways, Heath. Revive yourself. That's my advice, for all the good it will do…'

Heath had looked at her as if she were mad. He'd even had the house redecorated just to please her and had converted the drawing room into a room of Edwardian taste bathed in blue light, a blue-seeming flame in the fireplace, candles and candelabras and lush crystal chandeliers. The lounge room had been updated from its 80's look to the modern era with sunken leather furniture and various reference journals and magazines lining the covered shelves. Heath had always refused to take down the portraits.

'I tell you Heath, living in the past is no good for anyone,' Greta had told him.

'You don't know the half,' he'd said dismissively as he walked down the stairs and out the door to the office building he worked in (and owned) deep in the City of London.

On this night, he turned up the paraffin lamp to find what he was seeking and reached to grasp it.

Meanwhile, Katarina, who felt a little like a trapped bird waiting out the storm which had begun in earnest, wandered over to the fire and started going through a pile of old CDs (there were even some old vinyl albums!) which lay around the edges of the brick. Her cousins mostly liked the same music although both of them seemed to be more into "house" than she was.

She was glad her father, a kind man, had taught her to appreciate all musical styles over the years even though he'd insisted on piano lessons to fill The Grange with the music that had left it, along with her mother. Katarina noticed the grand piano gathering dust in the corner and imagined her mother, Kate, once playing it.

Katarina remembered her mother's face from photographs. She had been so young when she had Katarina, only eighteen. Katarina glanced into the glass above the fire. The girl realised, as she rubbed the life back into her cold cheeks, that her mother had been the same age as she was now; the same age as her uncle would remember her.

Weary from the long day and warmed with brandy, Katarina slumped on the couch. It was a good thing she didn't need to go back to college tomorrow, or anywhere, really. The rain and hail began to pelt down forming sleet outside the window. She texted her father, so he wouldn't worry. There was no need to fill him in on the details. He'd assume she was with friends. Besides, it would be foolhardy to travel on the country roads just now, though the haunted interiors of this opulent palace made her feel like a trapped bird.

**Chapter Eight**

_**Winter Nights**_

Finally, Heath shone the torch on the dusty old shoe box he was looking for.

'This should satisfy her imagination,' he thought.

Inside lay a pile of photographs, taken pre-digitally, tied in a bundle with a red ribbon. The photographs were of the Spencers, as children, at the local primary school and playing together on Hampstead Heath. There were more taken at boarding school in Scotland. They had not been looked at or moved for almost twenty years and the top of the box was thick with dust, but other than that, the photographs were in remarkably good condition.

Heath rubbed his arms. He could anticipate need now, the need for his medication, the need for blood. Heath could feel the surge of want and desire in his venom. The tightness in his calves and wrists would move through his body as his strength seemed to decrease physically. He'd neglected his pint of blood this evening, which he always drank before eight pm, but then he'd never had visitors to distract him. He looked at the photograph in his hand.

'Your beautiful face,' Heath whispered, fingers tracing the paper outline of her jaw as he held the edge of the torch in his mouth He dropped it when he heard the dog bark and the girl cry out. He rushed down the stairs to the drawing room.

Rain streamed in through the broken window creating a fast-growing puddle of water in the drawing room. He walked over to block the window with a chest of drawers as the girl shrank into the corner of the wall…

'I… I went to close the shutter and someone tried to grab my hand.'

Heath paused.

'You must have imagined it Katarina. It was the wind and the rain. The winds are strong; it's so isolated out here. A noise sounds louder than it really is. Shadows seem like people. Now, calm yourself. Here, take a seat and have a sip of your drink. I'll make some tea.

Katarina sat on the couch, shocked and shaken.

'How did you do that? Move the chest so easily? Pull down the window as if it was as light as a feather?'

Heath finished his drink and paused.

'It's not as heavy as it looks'

The answer seemed to satisfy Katarina who continued, 'The fingers, they were so cold…her skin was…white. She wore a nightgown.'

'Honestly Katarina, you sound like you've read too many horror stories…'

'Suddenly, I feel like I'm living one.'

'Only suddenly?' Heath said sarcastically. 'You wouldn't be the first to say that. I'm thinking of selling it…. But nevertheless, it's not safe to leave now.'

'It's not safe to stay…'

'Nonsense…mind plays tricks in here. I'll take you home the minute the storm finishes or morning comes…whichever arrives first.'

Katarina sighed as Heath smiled and helped her to her feet. Her father had clearly exaggerated. No stranger could have been more welcoming.

Heath smiled again as he settled a mohair rug around the girl. Katarina accidentally touched his hand and was shocked. His palm was as cold as ice. He withdrew his hand quickly and rubbed his fingers together.

'Thank you,' Katarina said, pretending not to notice. Little did she know what an effort it was to play nice. Heath had managed to take a few more sips of blood in his bedroom before going to find the photos and was feeling somewhat revived. He had no attraction to this girl's blood. In any case, it was strange. He hadn't even thought of drinking her, especially as he was hungry. He'd trained himself to withhold when it came to people he liked or met as friends. Perhaps this came from being "mixed-race". Heath's specialist had once considered him that rarest of things; a vampire-human hybrid. Now, he felt more vampire than hybrid.

'I aim to please,' he said cheerily, aware how bland he sounded. He handed her the photograph album as he spoke. 'We open the grounds to visitors in the summer now that…my wife has left and the children have grown up. I usually move to the Southern Hemisphere and enjoy the winter in New Zealand (Heath wanted to add, _'It's cold there when it's hot here and there's an endless supply of animal protein and blood and no one asks any questions_.') Instead, he used the open house story as an excuse, adding, 'I was…opposed to it at first, but the visitors bring in extra revenue and I don't have to put up with them… and, it all goes to a good cause - my charity for abandoned children…'

Her uncle sat opposite her now, sipping his brandy as he discussed the plight of orphans.

How could a man who was involved in charitable causes be as bad as her father had said?

The phone rang. Heath picked up the receiver. He spoke curtly as Katarina poured over the photographs on her lap.

'That was Linus,' Heath added, after he hung up. 'He's been caught up in the West End and Hinton is working late at the studio. He goes to evening classes sometimes. I just got a text. They don't speak to me usually. Apparently, I spent too much of my energy on work when they were growing up and now they don't want to know me.' Heath rationalized this partial lie as easier than the truth.

Katarina looked intently at the photographs of two children dressed up formally for a family function in the grounds of Hareton Hall. They looked like twins apart from the fact that one was a little taller than the other.

'That's us, when I first came to live with the Spencers,' Heath said.

'You both look…so sweet,' Katarina said. 'I was wondering…why didn't my father like you?'

Heath paused, wondering how much to tell the girl.

'He didn't like me because he thought he was better than me…it's as simple as that.'

The girl shook her head incredulously. 'Oh…but my father would never…'

'It…was different then. Everything was different.'

Heath smiled. Katarina noticed his perfect, white teeth.

'It's late, we can continue our discussion at a later date,' Heath added, rising from his chair.

It bothered him slightly to have her in the house all night, not because he cared what anyone would think but… well, for reasons which had already become obvious. The house itself…was unreliable, strange… creepy. His desires were manageable. He was determined she would not discover his secret but the girl had made an accurate assessment of hidden forces that swirled through the hall like ghosts.

'When was this taken?' Katarina asked as Heath stood up.

The girl held the photograph of two children, the boy with an untucked shirt, messy hair and wayward striped tie, and the girl, standing up straight with knee high white socks and braids. The boater hat sat atop her perfectly styled hair.

Heath looked at the photo dismissively.

'First day of boarding school, Greta took us to the train. We each had trunks with our names engraved on them in gold.' Heath smiled at the memory.

'Really…I didn't know you and mother went to school together.'

'We didn't…not really. There was a boys' school and a girls' school. They shared the same playing fields.'

'Did you meet up in secret then?'

He suddenly tired of Katarina's constant questions and wanted someone else to distract her. He didn't expect her to be so smart, or to like her, even a little. Perhaps she had more of her mother in her than her father.

'Sometimes,' he said warily, 'Kate…your mother…came to my football games.'

The storm howled outside as if to prove a point. Heath walked heavily over to the bay windows and checked the locks from the inside to prevent the incessant rattle which shook the room in the dark. Usually, it drizzled here but tonight was different. Tonight reminded him of Scotland and the stormy night his band played in the school hall for the first time.

'I like this photograph,' Katarina said. 'I've never seen it before. Where did she get the outfit?'

Kate stood on the stairs of a ballroom in a beautiful, low-cut, pink satin drop-waisted dress wearing high heels, tassels on the knee length hem and a sequinned choker around her head. 'It was the school formal, I suppose they call it a "prom" on those American TV shows,' he said dismissively. 'The theme of the occasion was 1920s,' he warmed to the memory, 'The band I was in tried playing jazz, dressed as gangsters. We thought we were so cool. Your mother, Kate, was determined to be the centre of attention that night…' Heath looked at the photograph and smiled.

As if reading his thoughts, Katarina said, 'Wearing that dress, I bet she succeeded.'

**Chapter Nine**

_**Sixteen**_

Kate had gone to buy the dress on one of their rare Saturday mornings in Edinburgh. They were sixteen and Kate was determined to drag Heath into town with her to pick up the dress. He pretended not to care because he hated shopping but secretly enjoyed having Kate as his exclusive companion during their journey. He'd grown older and stronger in their years at boarding school. He was managing his condition, and no one except Kate had ever guessed.

The boy enjoyed any excuse for freedom outside the school grounds. He didn't see Kate at all during school hours. Although he'd hated being sent away at first, he found the regimented atmosphere of sports and lessons suited him more than he ever imagined it would. Being able to climb higher, jump faster, bat harder and kick longer in games gave him an edge and made him popular with other boys, but it wasn't them he wanted to impress most.

Heath pretended it was an imposition as the note was delivered to his class. He and Kate arranged to meet, catch the bus and have lunch in an old-fashioned tea room (Heath would have preferred lunch at the pub, obviously, but this compromise meant he'd just have to pick the meat off the sandwiches). Besides, to impress Kate, he wanted to go along with her wishes.

Edinburgh on Saturday morning in April was a jostling, architecturally spectacular city. The light was low, like London but the open wind made it pleasantly colder. Heath wished he could have driven the car he'd been saving to buy from the "business" he ran after lights out. All of the boys from his boarding house were involved in a betting game related to the school fixtures. Heath would have been suspended, or worse, if it was discovered they were using real money to bet. The game had been running for more than a year and Heath, as bookmaker, was making a handsome profit. With his winnings, Heath and Kate could have taken a car if he'd been allowed to drive but the school (stupid school that it was in relation to rules) forbade it.

Heath would have ignored the rule, like most of the other rules at the school, if it hadn't been so difficult to break without being noticed. He was careful not to draw too much attention to himself. Being taller, faster, smarter and better looking (according to Kate) than other boys, made this difficult. Because boys placed less value on looks and more on accomplishment, they didn't dislike him as much as they would have if they'd all been girls and one outshone the others. Really, his mates looked up to him in a way he was sure they wouldn't, if they knew the truth. He kept his medication hidden. He kept his drinking supplies (type O in secluded plastic packages from the blood bank) in a locked, private fridge that (as house captain) he had exclusive access to. The school nurse was told as little as possible. She thought Heath had a rare condition and relayed instructions from his doctor without telling anyone or asking too many questions.

Edinburgh wasn't home to him but he had grown fond of the city. He thought one day he and Kate might live there or maybe New York or London if she had a preference. Anywhere dark and cold but populated would be good. They both liked entertainment and crowds they could blend in to. He glanced at Kate sitting beside him on the bus. Neither of them had their head phones on, preferring each other's silences to music. He looked at her profile, her perfect features and warm smile, her fragile collarbones leading to her neck.

He tried to stop the thought. Yes, her smile was beautiful, though he'd never told Kate this but it was her body and soul he wanted to possess, just as she possessed his, in theory. The warmth of her skin, her blood - intangible and unknown - was a perfect mystery to him. He tried to avoid staring longingly at the tiny rippled vein above her shirt collar. Heath inched his hand across without looking at her. When she laced her warm fingers around his gloved ones, as they approached the main cobbled street, the venom in his veins pulsed.

Kate always asked after him in a whisper. _How was he feeling? Not too weak or strong? Not tired or sleepy? Weird? _(Always weird!) _Did he need her to go with him to see a specialist? No_.

Heath insisted he was as normal as possible. He wanted no fuss. They were discovering new treatments constantly and he was perfectly fine; he'd be okay…just like her. Only, he knew he was nothing like her. Not really - apart from their obvious physical resemblance which, creepily, made others assume a biological connection that didn't exist.

Kate smiled. She loved the fact that, lately, her attention seemed to make Heath nervous. It was strange and unexpected and thrilling; he'd agreed to come with her to pick up her dress. They came into town only when they got a leave pass, and she knew Heath disliked shops. There was no way he'd do this for just anyone, least of all Annabelle Hunt. To say Kate wasn't really fond of Annabelle was an understatement. Kate did not place huge value on female friendship and Annabelle had a job ahead of her trying to befriend Kate. Kate often outshone other girls her age and had been brought up around boys. Besides, Kate was still getting over the fact that the Hunts had been sent to the same boarding school. In any case, Kate felt she had little in common with other teenage girls. Many had tried to befriend her, briefly, only for Kate to discover their real desire was to become close to Heath.

It had taken Kate ages to get used to seeing the Hunts every day at school. She suspected it was harder for Heath who understandably harboured a grudge against them. Kate knew if they ever found out who… or what Heath really was, they'd be shocked. They might even shun him. Kate didn't want Heath to have to go through that. She didn't want to give the other girls and boys a chance to reject him. He was hers, Kate thought possessively as she linked her arm through his.

One day he would be fierce and fully grown. By then, there might not be laws discriminating against vampires. One day, Heath might be able to be honest about who he really was. But until then, it would be easier to stay in the shadows. Kate often read marginalized news items with titles like, _Blood Stocks Low_, and stories about the "threats on the London tube," and the "new hybrid species of humans" with "unidentifiable blood types", rumoured to exist. No one had ever come out as a hybrid…or a vampire, for fear of being ostracised.

The pair rounded the corner from the main street to the bus stop.

'C'mon,' Heath said, pulling Kate's hand. 'Let's get off here and walk the rest of the way.'

'Okay,' Kate replied. She wondered if he ever noticed how adoring she was in his company. Kate certainly hoped not. They had never kissed. Heath was worried it might get out of hand and he'd fang her before he controlled himself. He was not yet fully grown and might be so out of control he couldn't resist and Kate could end up missing a chunk out of her neck or worse.

Kate was secretive about her feelings for him or as secretive as she could be. How could he not notice that she worshipped every step he took, to a degree that both excited and scared her? She was glad to be wearing the jeans and new jumper she'd ordered from a London catalogue. She was dressed fashionably but Heath barely looked. He was too busy hungrily glancing into the eyes of strangers.

Together, they reached the shops in double quick time. These days, Heath seemed to almost merge through crowds. He could look into her eyes, and she would know what he wanted before he'd even said it. They were becoming twin souls.

'This is good,' Heath said. 'The people traffic isn't too dense. We can get this over with and then have some lunch before they call out the search and rescue dogs for us.'

Heath was always hungry.

'I thought you got…permission to come,' Kate said.

'No…ah, not exactly,' Heath said. He'd handed in an unfinished assignment and had been asked to stay back on Saturday and complete it. Heath liked to bend the rules and had climbed out the window. Kate shrugged, knowing the teachers liked him too much for him to ever get into serious trouble. She was secretly thrilled he'd risked a further detention for her.

Together, they rounded the corner of a laneway and walked past a fish and chip shop that sold deep fried fish, chicken and… chocolate bars?

'I've always wanted to try one of those,' Kate said as she walked into the boutique next door.

'Your every wish must be granted. Wait there,' he said.

Kate loved it when Heath said things like that, flattered her and made a joke of her vanity. He ran into the shop and ordered two battered treats; he returned minutes later as Kate wrapped tightly in her long coat, hovered outside the shop. Heath held two wrapped packages. He gave Kate the first one; a battered chocolate bar with soft caramel oozing in the centre, whilst he chomped on the other - deep fried chicken. Kate's coat bag was draped carefully over her arm as they sat in the bus shelter and ate hungrily.

'Mmm… yummy,' Kate said.

'Like I said, your every wish is my command.'

'Nothing but the best for me, hey Heath…' Kate joked.

'I thought that was what you wanted…' the boy said, suddenly worried he had misread her.

'Of course, this is one of the highlights of my sixteen years…'

'Mine too…' Heath said, smiling. Heath had the nicest smile Kate had ever seen, the thickest brown hair and the kindest eyes. His teeth were perfect, (although she missed his little fangs, retracted so long she hadn't seen them in years). Kate looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring at his mouth.

Moments later, Kate screamed as a bus sped by and the water in the gutter splashed them. In seconds, water pools swirled around their feet and the edges of their jeans were soaked in muddy rain.

'Oh well,' Kate said, 'I suppose they can be dry cleaned…'

Heath looked at her, the warmth of his smile suddenly making even the cold weather feel less inclement. He moved closer. Kate could nearly feel his breath. The boy opened up his coat, snug and larger than hers and enveloped her in its dry warmth. Rain tumbled down from the sky. Heath's body temperature these days was not cold but he always seemed to need an extra jumper.

'This is Edinburgh for you,' Heath said. 'Quick…'

They moved from the bus stop, which was largely uncovered, to the shelter of the shop front. In the fading afternoon sun, Kate leaned in and kissed Heath, softly on the mouth. Heath was surprised and soon they were covering each other in sweet, warm kisses.

At first, Heath was reluctant. After Kate kissed him he leaned back hesitantly. Heath managed to kiss Kate again without wanting to drain the blood from her neck and felt only mild discomfort in his veins.

The discomfort soon turned to bliss. Being around her for so many years made control possible…just; he'd taken his medication while he waited for her. This "control" was a revelation to him. They kissed again. Heath suddenly pushed her away, feeling the tiny pang of his extending incisors.

'I'm…sorry,' Kate said.

'It's…it's not your fault. I'm just…'

'I know,' Kate whispered, turning his face to hers.

The boy shyly reached his gloved hands under her coat. Heath pulled Kate closer to him - so close she felt, for a moment, unable to breath. The depth of their affection scared her. She lowered her arms into him, stayed locked in his embrace and just as quickly pushed him away.

'I…I didn't expect us to be so…'

'What?' Heath said, unsurprised by the extraordinary feelings he felt. Alarmed she might be rejecting him, he suddenly felt his incisors extending again and turned his face away, ashamed.

'Look at me,' Kate said. He retracted his fangs fully in that moment before doing so, proving to himself that control was completely possible.

'I don't want us to have any secrets. I was going to say…good. Together we are so…'

'Bad?' he smiled. Heath leaned in towards her as they waited for the downpour to stop. Wrapped in each other's arms, they were glad to miss the first bus back to school.

**Chapter Ten**

_**Hinton**_

'It's late… ' Heath said, changing the subject as Katarina took another sip of tea.

It was past midnight and the storm hadn't subsided.

'Do you mind if I stay the night?'

Heath was mildly surprised but glad he hadn't had to make the suggestion.

'Of course not, I don't know when or even if the boys will be home, but there are six guest rooms and Greta should be in at eight in the morning. Take your pick. I'm just going to stay here by the fire, go through a few papers. I have a business meeting in the City tomorrow. Even though it's Saturday, some of the foreign markets don't sleep.'

'Mmm…' Katarina said. Normally she would have felt odd staying in a stranger's house. Before it was her uncle's it had, after all, been her mother's. Katarina was surprised Heath had become so traditional. He'd once dreamed of being a rock star according to a letter her mother had written (the only one that she had been allowed to read and keep).

Katarina gazed at her mother's portrait in the hallway. How was it possible to look so similar to a person you didn't know?

'Thank you. I just texted my father and he thinks I'm staying with my friend - the girl you met in the pub.'

'Blonde one, long hair?'

'Yes, that one,' Kate regularly excused Stacey's flirtatious behaviour.

Heath nodded, making himself seem more amiable than he was. He tried to imagine he hadn't dreamed of sinking his teeth into the blonde girl's neck and draining her until she shuddered.

'I was wondering if I could sleep in my mother's old room?'

Heath hesitated, but he knew refusal would put her off guard.

'Well…um, I don't think Greta has the bed made up.'

'Which one is it?'

'First right, top of the stairs, but…' He could feel his muscles tightening; he needed his medication and perhaps some protein from the larder…

'That's okay; I'll just take this…' Katarina gestured to the checked mohair blanket that had been wrapped around her. Before Heath could utter another word, she said good night and was bounding half way up the creaking staircase, two steps at a time, revealing her youth.

It would be a long night, Heath thought, as he finished his pint of Magenta and took some extra capsules. The storm water pelted down on the sill in the drawing room as the lights suddenly flashed. The dog jumped up and howled. His ears were alert to the unfamiliar sound of music playing from Kate's old bedroom.

'Settle,' Heath warned.

The dog nuzzled his head under his paws and softly growled instead. He sensed a person approaching.

Outside, Hinton, Heath's adopted son, walked alone towards the house. He was grown now, hunched over his plastic-wrapped package. It was his latest completed canvas, carefully covered. Hinton had lived at Hareton Hall since his sister, Frances, had arrived with him in tow eighteen years ago. Now he had no family but Heath and Linus. The boy wore a blue scarf, brown coat and ski hat pulled down over his ears. He'd been in central London finishing his Art History class and then he'd stayed on to assist the tutor during a photography lesson. Hinton was one of the best students at Art College and made extra cash tutoring. The class had been developing film (in a dark room during their lesson in pre-digital camera work) and some students had then decided to go into the West End for drinks. Before he knew, it was almost daybreak.

The boy hated going home. His uncle was legally his adopted father but Hinton always called him Heath. Before Hinton went off to class, Heath had been in a surlier mood than usual and was always on at him about "making something of his life" and going to work in the City at the family firm. Hinton couldn't believe he expected so much of him when he expected absolutely nothing of his own son. Linus, who was blonde like his mother, did little else except socialize and run dance parties in abandoned fields.

Heath and Hinton had countless arguments about Hinton's "lack of direction." Hinton knew Heath liked to keep his family close by and didn't want either of his sons to leave home before they had finished studying. He was a difficult and unsociable parent but he was the only parent Hinton had since his own had died shortly after his birth. Franny had raised him until her desire to flee The Hall after Harrison's death overcame her. Hinton was in school then and The Hall became his holiday home. Greta, who had children of her own to care for, only came in three days a week now.

Heath rarely trusted new people enough to actually employ them so when staff left, they were not replaced. Over the years only Greta remained. Hinton couldn't really believe how he'd been trapped into his adopted father's lair, especially since Heath had never actually been demonstrative towards him during his childhood. But then, he'd never shown much love to his own son, either. Slowly, Hareton Hall had become his home. And it was all because of _her,_ Hinton thought. As he neared the house, the first picture to greet him in the hallway would be Kate Spencer's.

Hinton was sceptical about love partly because of the rumours that connected her to his adopted father. Besides, Hinton was nineteen and had a reputation to uphold. He enjoyed "playing the field" as Heath used to say in the old days. Since Art College had more female students than males, the odds were definitely in his favour. Even so, Hinton couldn't wait to get out of Hampstead for good. As he walked up the drive, along the old stone road, shivering in the early hours of the morning, he considered the merits of leaving London. The borough was freezing and the cab from the station would only take him so far along the icy road now that the storm was subsiding. He often took the bus. There was nowhere to park in central London anyway and he hated asking Heath for money.

**Chapter Eleven**

_**Remember **_

Hinton was surprised that the lights were still on in the drawing room as he entered the house. The dog had slept by the fire until everyone else had gone to sleep. Then, he'd done as usual and wandered upstairs to lie at the foot of his master's bed.

The boy had removed his coat; he wore the latest sneakers and low rise jeans. Hinton wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. He hoped Greta had left something since. He was very hungry after hours of clubbing in Soho. He was often photographed there with various girlfriends, but lately, his shallow existence had begun to bother him. Perhaps he was more like his adopted father than he thought. The family photographs that filled the drawing room told barely half the story of its dysfunction.

Hinton shook his head at the pictures on the wall as he climbed the stairs. It was funny to him that Heath could give himself airs and graces but no one knew where he came from either. Heath could use the title bestowed upon him for "services to the economy" but that didn't make him a Lord, not in Hinton's eyes. He couldn't have cared less about titles but he thought it almost funny that he had to practically ask permission to live in his own house when his sister had more rights to it than Heath (who only owned the house because of a swindle…) but that was another story.

The boy was aware there were two sides to the family history. In the first version, Heath had "saved" him as a child from a vicious beating by his drunkard brother-in-law, Harrison. The other was contained in an apologetic note from Harrison years later. Truth lay somewhere in between. One thing Hinton knew for sure; Heath cheated Harrison out of his own home during a game of high-stakes poker.

There are always more sides to a story but this was the particular side that Hinton chose to believe. Before the bet, papers had been signed. Heath, the foundling child, had risen to become the rightful owner of Hareton Hall. Hinton grimaced in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth and splashed his face. His image was hazy with condensation. He rubbed the mirror with a towel and wiped his face dry. Hinton turned off the light and walked quietly to his room. Heath's light was on. As usual Hinton didn't bother to say goodnight. Instead, he flopped on his own bed fully clothed.

Heath wasn't so bad. He'd been more of a father than Harrison and treated him more like a biological son than the father he'd never met. Besides, unless he won the annual Art Prize at his college, he had nowhere else to go.

Hinton had flicked on the television news in his bedroom and was chugging orange juice and eating what was left of some roasted chicken, when he heard a piercing screech that made him walk into the hallway.

Doors flung open and Heath's dog bounded out of the main bedroom towards a room with blazing light under the door; a room that had never been used since his teenage aunt had inhabited it more than twenty years ago.

A dark-haired girl flung open the door and stood on the landing, looking pale and frightened in the half light. Hinton Spencer froze on the spot.

'Who are you?'

'I'm… I'm Katarina Hunt. You must be…'

'Hinton, your cousin by marriage, for all intents and purposes. I was adopted. Are you okay?'

'I don't know… I think I will be. Someone tried to get into my room.'

The boy, mesmerized by her white skin and red lips, stared at her longer than was necessary, then apologized, adding, 'sorry…it's just that you are identical to my…adopted Aunt…' He gestured to Kate's picture on the wall.

'May I?' Hinton said.

'Yes…come in, please.' Kate said with desperation in her voice. Hinton checked the cupboards and behind the curtains, even under the bed.

'There's nothing in here…'

A slight breeze wafted through the room, seemingly from nowhere.

'I…I met your Uncle, um Heath and I wanted to come back to see some old photos and the house my mother grew up in. Then the storm set in so I asked if I could stay the night and…I don't think Heath wanted me to stay and someone tried to get into my room."

Hinton looked around.

'The door was shut when I came up.'

Almost speechless, Katarina whispered, 'not through the door, through the window.'

Hinton wandered past the bed and towards the upstairs bay window. It was unlocked and unopened. He pulled it up. They were on the upper floor. Below, lay a stone pathway. The flower beds were a metre away from the walls and the trees even farther. It would not have been possible for anyone to climb up.

'There is no one there now,' Hinton said. 'Are you sure you didn't have too much to drink?'

'Are you serious? I know what I saw.'

Outside, the wind started to pelt down onto the trees. In the distance, an icy storm began to howl again.

'Tell you what,' Hinton said, smiling, 'Why don't you come into my room? I'll take the floor, of course, and you'll be safe until morning when I drive you home.'

Katarina looked at him hesitantly. This wasn't the cousin she was supposed to meet, though she'd heard about him often enough at Art College. Hinton was known as a real ladies' man, a guy who failed his A-levels and only got into college because of the brilliance of his drawings and a scholarship. Everyone knew his family were loaded. Hinton was a year ahead of her, so they'd seen each other in the halls but never spoken. He'd dated more than his share of girls at the college, and dumped them just as quickly.

Katarina reluctantly dragged her checked blanket off the bed and pulled on her jeans over her underwear as Hinton pretended to look away.

'C'mon, then,' Katarina said, as the storm raged outside.

Hinton couldn't believe his luck. He started walking towards his room when he realised the girl had taken a wrong turn.

'I'm going to sleep in the drawing room,' Katarina said. 'Perhaps, you could come with me?' She was still pretty scared after the earlier incident, though she'd never admit it and Hinton had all but convinced her she was dreaming.

"Mmm, give up my bed for a hard couch?" For a minute she thought he was going to refuse.

'Why not?' he said with his most affable smile. 'We can pretend we're on a camping holiday.' Although her likeness to her mother threw him momentarily, Hinton was beginning to like this new cousin.

Heath was able to sleep through practically anything but lately he'd been woken up at all hours. He'd drunk three glasses of brandy before bed and fallen into an almost trancelike state reading the stock reports and going through some important files in relation to an upcoming merger. He'd been out hunting squirrels and rabbits again. He'd swiftly scaled the outside wall so no one would notice him coming back or leaving. Disgusted, he wiped the blood from his mouth, rinsed and brushed his teeth before bed.

Though he dimly heard the sound of a woman's scream it faded just as quickly and the only change in his vast, kingly bedroom was the blurry sight of his dog's ears standing up. He crawled under his duvet. Heath slept a few hours every night. After his maturity, at twenty-one, he hadn't slept at all. But recently, he'd started falling into a deep slumber in the early hours of the morning. He reached over for his newly prescribed elixir. There were many underground markets now and different products for both vampires and hybrids that hadn't been available to Heath in his youth. After he chugged some Magenta (a new elixir), he fell back into a deep sleep. The dog whimpered and snuggled at his feet like she always did when he woke.

In the dark he heard a woman's voice, clear as glass.

"Heath… Heath…" the girl whispered to him. Then, her hand reached over and shook him awake.

Dark hair fanned across his ear, irritating him and interrupting his dream, which was more than a dream. Heath opened his eyes and saw the perfect brown eyes of another and heard Kate's pleading voice as he reached out to touch her cheek.

'Heath,' the girl said. 'Forgive me for what I did. I've been away for eighteen years. Please come back to me, I have missed you. It's so cold out here…come back to me…come back…Let me in. I've been in the in-between for so long…'

**Chapter Twelve **

_**The Cottage**_

Heath disappeared most evenings at school. Kate knew he went hunting. He'd be back for band rehearsals, he had promised her. He'd been counselled by his doctor. Kate was sure he practised being 'safe', which meant only drinking wild animals and never more than he needed to survive. Magenta, drunk in the interim, ensured he was not tempted by humans; nor would he be, unless his vampiricism developed fully. This was a roll of the dice, according to his specialist. They wouldn't know if he was a full bloodsucker until he reached eighteen. In the meantime, his diet subsisted only of protein, citrus, Magenta and plasma delivered via special order from London once a week. Blood oranges were still his favourites.

Tomorrow night, the inter-school Battle of the Bands competition was to be held as part of the Sixth Form dance. Kate and a few others, including Annabelle Hunt, were factored into the front row as audience members or "fake fans", as Kate joked. Annabelle had made such an effort to be friends with Kate that the girls were now talking and Annabelle had hesitantly been accepted into Kate's circle of popular girls.

Those girls were sitting in the front row. The band hoped they wouldn't be sitting there long. Tonight, they wanted everyone in the room up dancing. Heath would be lying if he said he didn't like the fact that a lot of girls paid him attention. He was tall with dark hair and had a "mysterious" look about him. He'd heard Annabelle giggling and whispering about him to his friends once. He still disliked the Hunts but he enjoyed female attention in all its forms and it didn't pay to display open warfare towards Annabelle's older brother, Edmund. He'd tried that in his first year at boarding school and all his privileges had been withdrawn. He hadn't seen Kate in over a week.

There was only one girl whose opinion truly mattered to him and she sat front row centre as the band played her favourite cover. Afterwards, everyone rushed off to supper but Heath and Kate had plans.

As Heath packed away his guitar, the drummer, who fancied Kate, smiled at her.

'Did you like your song, Kate? We played it especially for you…'

Heath rolled his eyes, jealously.

'I more than enjoyed it,' Kate replied but she was looking straight at Heath when she spoke.

Heath had a good singing voice. He and his band were the coolest – some said most dangerous boys at school – by far. Although Kate was proud of Heath's ability to assimilate, it had begun to annoy her to see other girls paying Heath so much attention and the last thing she wanted to do was let him know how great he was. That would create too much of an ego problem.

'I mean, it was better than okay,' she covered.

'That was your song,' Heath said.

Kate couldn't help but smile. Heath knew what she liked so well.

Heath pretended not to care and smiled at Annabelle Hunt as she gathered her things, much to Kate's annoyance. Heath made sure Kate noticed how much Annabelle Hunt flirted with him. When he became bored with Annabelle's conversation mid-sentence, Heath turned from her and walked over to demand Kate's undivided attention. Kate paused and glanced into Heath's eyes. It was obvious to strangers they had a connection that went beyond words.

When they were alone, Kate tugged at Heath's shirt and gave him the lamb sandwich she'd made in the kitchen especially for him. They were having a roast today at the girl's school and Kate knew it was Heath's favourite. He thanked her, pulled off the lamb, wolfed it down then left the bread. Heath was always starving these days. It was as if none of the food he ate satisfied him.

'C'mon, I also bought us tea…' Kate had her flask and some more lamb and chicken wrapped in a satchel. Heath grimaced, but realised weak tea kept him hydrated. Kate was always trying to look after him, even though they'd be seeing each other less now that they were both studying for half-term finals.

'You really did rock, Heath,' she whispered, looking up at him when she said it. He tried not to beam so hard. He grew happy and less prideful under her gaze but he held back from saying what he wanted to say. Heath wanted to tell Kate Spencer how much he loved her but he couldn't. If he told her, he felt sure that she would torture him, use it against him and tease him more than she usually did. It was in her nature to be both a chameleon and contrite. He wouldn't say the words until he was sure she felt the same.

They agreed to meet at the cottage to study for their exams. They enjoyed meeting up, just to read and talk like they used to when they lived in London.

The cottage was a secret meeting place that had been used for decades by the students from both schools. Built into a stone wall that marked the outside gate of the shared sporting grounds, it could only be reached by running (or walking very quickly) far out of sight across the never ending playing fields and through a kind of dugout that led to an even more lush pasture.

The dwelling had been uninhabited for at least a decade. The hut had been built in the curve. High on the hill, it lay abandoned when no one had bothered to demolish it. Most of the students knew of its existence and it was the "go to" place for midnight feasts… and lover's meetings.

By the time Kate arrived, windswept and dishevelled, Heath had caught her up.

The interior of the cottage had recently been renovated by teenagers. There was evidence of junk food and discarded games, posters tagged on walls, various blankets and duvets rolled into a cupboard, and a well-used fireplace. It was the perfect spot for a winter picnic.

'Reminds me a little bit of Hampstead,' Kate said, looking out the window.

'Scotland reminds me of nothing in the South. It's…lonelier…wilder,' he said, rubbing his mouth when Kate couldn't see. He suddenly needed his incisors filed but he wasn't going to admit it. Only Heath could feel the sharp tips of the teeth inside his mouth, reminding him of his true nature. Kate placed the food on the red checked table cloth over the low coffee table as Heath lit the fire. The boy hungrily demolished the roast chicken from Kate's satchel as the girl looked on in amusement. She spread out the board game on the floor. The pair of them began playing Scrabble in their usual competitive way until Kate, bored with the game, messed up her side with the pieces tumbling across the floor amidst a cloud of laughter.

'This is such a boring game,' she said. 'I've never understood why I can't make up words… '

She leaned over towards him. Heath felt unexpectedly nervous, but tried to act cool.

'What sort of words?'

'Oh, you know. Words they don't teach us at school…' Kate smiled wickedly then changed the subject.

'I am so bored with classes but I can't wait to see your band perform tomorrow night. I miss Hampstead. I miss the glass house where we used to go… to hunt for food…and flowers…'

Kate loved flowers. She'd even given Heath some edible ones once, when he was little, which he'd duly tried to eat. Kate rolled onto her back and stared up at the low beamed roof. Heath looked bashful. The fire flickered, creating artistic shadows of the pair on the inside of the cottage.

'I think we should play a different game…' Kate said.

Heath looked at Kate incredulously, as he turned the page of his History text. He hadn't expected this.

Kate reached over and stroked his hair. He could still feel the touch of her fingers, moments later. Overwhelmed, he took her hand in his and used all of his willpower to stop himself pulling her to him and fanging her. He didn't want to mess things up with Kate before they were ready. Heath ached for her loveliness; she was part of him more than anything or anyone ever could be or would be. When he thought of his biological family, he was dismissive of them. He didn't remember their faces. Besides, they had abandoned him when they discovered he was a bloodsucking freak; just as his friends would probably turn on him, if they knew the truth.

He dropped his pen and changed the subject. 'What…what are your plans for next year?'

Kate laughed… 'Okay, we'll play your way. Let's see, if I wasn't going to be a famous painter, do you know what I'd be?'

'I don't,' Heath replied as she plaited her hair into a braid.

'Well, I love my horse so…I'd be a vet…and save the animals…'

'You'd have to study hard for that,' Heath said sarcastically, glancing back at the words on his page.

'What, don't you think I'm capable?'

Heath knew Kate could do anything she set her mind to, starting with gaining access to the school kitchen when he couldn't, but it wouldn't pay to compliment her right now. She was far more confident than he was.

'It's not that,' he hedged. 'I'm just not sure if you have the dedication,' he replied, turning his head so she couldn't see his smile.

'Oh, you…'

He reached over and caught her hand. Kate looked up at Heath with a devotion she quickly hid with words.

'Let me get closer to the fire. It's freezing in here…' Kate said.

Heath moved closer to her, closer to the flames which were weak, but turned and crackled forming a strong light.

Heath made the first move. He put his hand on Kate's hair and she held his gaze.

'Run away with me Kate.'

Kate laughed.

'When? Where to?'

'When we've finished school, after we turn eighteen. We could go to Prague or Paris or Spain.'

'What with?'

'We'll get jobs…'

'I can't just abandon everything…my family…'

'Apart from your father, they've abandoned us…

Kate considered this for a moment.

'I know. Harrison is…not to be trusted and mother lets him sign everything. He controls all her assets after she and father separated. She even signed half of the house into his name. Mother never did like responsibility.' Kate reached out to Heath and he leant over and kissed her wrist, softly, again.

Kate opened her eyes wide, suddenly seeing the future.

'Yes, let's do it. Let's go to Spain. I'll study art and design, though I once thought Paris might be the place for that. Never mind, I'm sure they have good design schools in Spain and you can…start a band… only we've no money, not a cent. It's just a fantasy, Heath. Ten minutes in another country without a roof over our heads and we'd be fighting all the time. And…'

'What?' He wanted her to say it but she wouldn't.

'…and liking each other less…'

'I could never like you less, Kate. There is no such possibility.'

'Why?'

'Because I love you.'

Kate liked it when he spoke like this, but it worried her. 'I know,' was all she said.

What she should have said, and what she later regretted not saying was that she also loved him. It was obvious. Her journals were testament to this. Each one covering a year in their lives together, written in schoolgirl writing, with train tickets and photographs taken on her polaroid when Heath was least expecting it, pasted into the pages. She kept the most recent one hidden under her bed. Her favourite photograph was one she took of Heath in his navy blue school blazer standing on the playing fields with a bemused look on his face, just as he realised she was the culprit – the school photo journalist.

Kate glanced longingly at Heath after he'd kissed her again. She looked into his perfect eyes and felt the hard cut of his arm muscles. This boy, soon to be a man, was everything to her. He was her whole life, the male version of herself. She knew to be wary, though - family neglect had taught her this; not to let him know her entire being was his to do with as he pleased. Kate sat up and glanced down at her shoe, resolving to change the subject.

Heath loved that about her - the two versions. In this version, Kate had fresh colour rising in her cheeks. He wanted to be closer to her, to touch the vein in her wrist, her neck, to kiss her lips, but he didn't dare move.

'I think you should take your studies more seriously, never mind about me. I could never love a man, who didn't know at least as much as me,' she joked as she packed up the chess pieces.

'Well, then, there are a great many men for you to love,' Heath replied with a raised eyebrow.

'Oh, you…' Kate threw one of the Scrabble pieces his way.

Heath laughed in return, loving that he could get to her so easily.

He had applied to various universities but he wasn't sure what he wanted. Beyond Kate's love, nothing. He'd gone through the motions, telling no one before now that he'd considered applying to Oxford. He'd organised teachers he knew would give him good references and because his marks were flawless, he had a reasonable chance of being accepted. He just had to pass the interviews. He'd studied every evening when he wasn't with Kate, and when he was, he studied late into the night. He wanted to achieve more than anyone he knew. More than anything, he wanted Kate to be proud of him.

They read some more and fell asleep beside the fire. When they woke the next morning, fully clothed, wrapped together under a pile of blankets, it was morning.

'C'mon,' Kate said, dusting off bread crumbs from her skirt, 'we don't want to miss chapel or they will notice and maybe stop me going to the gig tonight. Someone could report us…'

Heath rolled his eyes. 'You mean Hunt.'

'Really, he's not that bad. I think he wants to be your friend. Actually I think Annabelle is quite keen on you. You better be careful, Heath. Those secretive, silent girls are the worst with their little schoolgirl crushes…'

'Is that what you have on me?'

'Silly, I'm not the silent, secretive type,' Kate said.

It wasn't the answer Heath wanted to hear.

'Well, you never had to be.'

Heath turned with the coat and handed Kate her scarf.

'How can you joke like that Kate?'

'What? I'm just kidding.'

'How could you think there is anyone for me apart from you?'

'I…I think you like me too much. It will distract you from getting good marks in your finals.'

'Am I hearing things? Listen to yourself Kate. I don't "like" you too much. There is no "like" here.

Kate looked away, aware of the depth of her feelings for the handsome boy that stood opposite her. Over the past year, he'd grown a head taller than her. She had to look up in the morning half-light to meet his eyes. Again, she looked away.

'Look at me Kate.'

'I know most girls think you're hot.'

'Oh, so you're saying you don't?'

'Those girls don't know you, like I know you,' Kate said slowly. Before Kate was forced to answer, the door blew open as one of the younger students arrived, out of breath. 'Come quick,' he said, '… they're taking the register. They know someone broke into the kitchen last night and stole some chickens and the headmaster is going ballistic.'

Kate giggled while Heath grabbed their coats as they prepared to run. It would be wiser to attend roll call, or else it would be completely obvious they'd been out all night; and then Mr Spencer would be informed, or worse.

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**Linus**_

Katarina woke in the living room but she did not feel refreshed. The girl stepped quietly past her sleeping cousin and headed upstairs to retrieve her shoes. Much to her surprise, a shard of sunlight was shining through the floor length window of the room. The storm had subsided, leaving a wreck of mud and branches across the grounds of the estate. The girl pulled on her jumper and brushed her hair. The ancient brush looked like it had been passed down through many generations of the Spencer family. Katarina discovered some toothpaste in an old-fashioned bathroom. Upon scrutiny of her image in the mirror, she changed her mind and decided to take a shower. Katarina leaned in closely to the mirror, noticing the dark circles under her brown eyes, betraying her lack of sleep.

'Hello, how are you?'

The voice made her jump.

'You might have knocked.'

'Oh, no need to cover up. I've seen it all before,' Linus said breezily. 'I work in a theatre – stage management. You look as if you've seen a ghost.'

'Is that meant to be a joke?'

'Oh, you noticed it too…'

'What?'

'Last night, curtains moving, lights flickering, noises in the dark…' He made a strange horror movie noise and laughed.

'There was a woman…a stranger trying to get into my room…'

'Oh people have been saying stuff like that for years…'

'You're not going to tell me…'

'Oh, I'm here to tell you, it's all true. I'd never bring my friends home. Place is seriously haunted…'

Katarina didn't know if he was joking or not, nor did she know what to say in response to Linus' quick wit and even quicker turn of phrase. She decided she had no choice but to run with it. She smiled - at least it felt safer with another human being in the room.

'But enough of the gloom and doom, I'm interning in a theatre on the West End. I'll get you a ticket to come and see the latest show if you like. It's pretty good. I also organise dance parties on the weekends. Father does not approve, as you can imagine. What about you?'

'I like music and painting. I go to Art College and take photographs.'

'Cool.'

Linus held out his hand to Katarina, and she shook it.

A boy with what could only be described as wild hair and the appearance of an 80's punk, smiled back at her in the mirror. He messed his hair with his hands.

'So, do you like my new look?' Linus asked.

'It's…interesting but I never saw your old one.' Katarina replied.

'You must be Kat, Heath's niece, the one we've never met. I have the illustrious honour of being Heath's son. How is the old man?'

'Well, he's not very…old.'

'No, I know. But I'm guessing he's still pretty grumpy.' He pulled a face. 'I always try to get out of the house early. Father hates the fact that I go off to Brighton with my mates every weekend and can't stand the thought of working in his stuffy financial firm. But he was so young when he had me. Really, his idea of becoming a parent at this point in my life is a bit of a joke… Mind?' Linus took Kat's tube of toothpaste.

'I brought my own toothbrush,' Linus said reassuringly.

Katarina laughed.

'Oh, I'm going to write down my web page. We should stay in touch. Heath is sure to lose it at some point this morning, or he might already be out with the horses. In any case, you're going to want to run away from this house and never return…just like all the women in this family do.'

'Surely, they didn't all run away. Not all of them.'

'Yes, all of them,' the boy said regretfully.

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.'

Linus quickly changed the subject.

'Get dressed. We're meeting Hinton for breakfast; he likes to sketch in the cafe. Sometimes I think he's aiming to draw every nook and cranny in Hampstead. He and I don't really get on. So, it'll be quite funny to turn up at his favourite breakfast hangout with you in tow. He takes all his notes and paper to draw people there. He's obsessed with capturing their images. I'm sure I can't see any point in that…' Linus said breezily.

Linus talked on and it was hard not to like him, with his easy way and humorous take on the world.

Greta called upstairs, 'and what would you both like for breakfast?'

'Nothing darling,' Linus said theatrically. 'I'm taking my cousin out. You're welcome to join us,' he added.

'No Linus, I only popped in to drop off the groceries,' Greta said warily.

'Bring you back one of those lovely frosted buns from the French bakery for morning tea, then, eh?' Linus said, dragging Katarina down the stairs with him.

'Oh, have you said goodbye to your father?'

'Goodbye? We haven't said good morning. He's out with the horses. Tell him I'll see him tonight.'

Greta rolled her eyes.

'And with a bit of luck,' Linus said under his breath, 'he'll be asleep by nine pm.'

Katarina laughed.

'He was…quite the gentleman around me.'

'Oh, that's just because you don't know him, yet.'

'I get the feeling our families never wanted us to meet,' Katarina said as they walked down the sunny driveway, slippery from last night's hail storm.

'Here, take these.'

Linus handed Katarina a pair of gumboots. They both carried their shoes in their hands.

'The calm after the storm. C'mon, I know a shortcut,' Linus said enthusiastically.

'Near my house?'

'Something like that,' the boy said as they walked through the sunken garden, across the heath, towards The Grange and past the private, hidden glass conservatory that was tucked behind the Summer House.

'My father used to come here… with your mother, when they were children.'

'I know,' Katarina said. 'I'm reading her journal. I found it under the bed last night.'

Linus looked shocked. 'Oh, that must be another one,' he said, reaching for the diary.

'Not until I've read this one,' Katarina replied. 'I'm only on page eighteen…but sometimes I think this is the place she was happiest.'

Her cousin shrugged. 'Just up ahead, past the conservatory on our left, past the fancy house on the corner, is our café.'

Linus took Katarina's arm and she suddenly felt adopted by her cousin, like a new best friend.

Linus pulled a face as they removed their muddy boots at the door of the café and replaced them with their own shoes. 'There he is, sitting all sullen in the corner table. And in about ten seconds, Hinton will… look up.' As if on cue, that's what happened. Linus and Katarina laughed. Hinton didn't smile. He scowled and hastily gathered his sketches.

Hinton was just as unwelcoming and monosyllabic when they sat at the table with him. He'd already eaten a plate of bacon which Katarina thought was really unhealthy. Katarina ordered tea and poached eggs with toast and Linus ordered muesli with strawberries and yoghurt. A jug of blood orange juice was placed on the table and Hinton guzzled two glasses. He then proceeded to wolf down a second breakfast of eggs (he left the toast on the side) as he sketched the interior of the café, practically ignoring Linus and Katarina, who couldn't get over the difference in his personality from the previous night.

As he looked up briefly from his sketches, Hinton barely nodded. Nevertheless, Katarina, was in her element, surrounded by new family. Her two cousins seemed to be far more interested in themselves and their plans that her, but Katarina didn't mind. Hinton had an exhibition to prepare and Linus started chatting about the play he was stage managing. When the sun shone through the window, Hinton shifted from the direct light and began to get restless as he shuffled his papers. Katarina was keen to get back to her mother's diary, but was wary of appearing (unlike her cousins) rude. Besides, it felt nice to be amongst what were for all intents and purposes, her family.

As they finished their breakfasts and she read the paper, Katarina noticed Hinton peering at the words on her page. She looked up and sounded out the word, incandescent. Hinton looked away.

'Do you wear glasses, Hinton?'

'No,' Hinton replied taking offence through a mouthful of bacon. He chugged down the rest of his orange juice then began gulping his coffee. His hunger seemed to have no end.

'Oh, don't mind him Katarina. Hinton always wolfs down his food, don't you Hinton?' Linus said with a mocking smile.

Hinton raised an eyebrow, apparently used to his cousin's humour. Meanwhile it was obvious Hinton had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or couch as was the case the previous night. Katarina tried to make small talk but Hinton stopped drawing, folded his sketches and announced quietly that he had to go to college to work on his portfolio.

Katarina wanted to say, 'I'll come with you,' because she had planned to do the same, but she felt she didn't really know him well enough (except by reputation). From the way he was behaving it appeared he would not want her to accompany him. Hinton got up so quickly, he even left the scarf he was wearing, (her scarf, strangely enough), by her seat. He didn't want to give her an excuse to return to Hareton Hall.

After he left, Linus stirred his coffee as he spoke. "Oh, never mind him, Katarina. He's always more sociable in the evenings. Take no notice. I'm glad we met. Besides, it's obvious he likes you. I would too if we weren't related…' Linus smiled dramatically.

'Well, I suppose I should also be going…'

"Nonsense, you're coming with me to Portobello Road to buy new outfits before I go to my rehearsal. Then we're off to Camden town tomorrow and tomorrow night, in honour of having found you again, we're going to cook a feast and have some friends over for dinner. I have it on good authority that father will be out.'

Linus opened up the newspaper and sure enough, inside the lift out, there was a picture of Heath, in a dinner suit standing with his most recent girlfriend. She was also a company director and the daughter of a media mogul. Heath was announcing a charity ball that would be sponsored by the family company, _Heath & Sons,_ that evening.

'Mmm… sons,' Linus mused, 'how optimistic. I think that means me… and Hinton, though I don't think we were quite what father was expecting.'

Linus leaned in close 'You know Hinton can barely read, don't you? That's probably why he left suddenly.'

Katarina looked surprised. 'What? I thought there might be something wrong with his eyesight…'

'Oh, he sees clear as day; he can practically see in the dark. It's just that father was… well, he raised him to ride and take care of the animals. He was home schooled by Greta when we realised everyone was just going to make fun of him at regular school. It was terrible. Keep this to yourself. Father hates it when I talk about the family publicly but there's always been a lot of tension between us,' Linus stated matter-of-factly. 'I mean, he's not exactly thrilled with my choice of…career but at least I'm literate.'

Linus went beyond the insinuation that Hinton was not. 'Oh, he's clever. It's just that he has dyslexia and never really had it diagnosed properly and now… he's too embarrassed to ask for lessons.'

'Well, I was good at English at school. Maybe I could help him. He seems so clever. It's hard to believe he can't read…' Katarina said.

'Maybe. Hinton's unsociable. I've tried and he won't talk to me. We just don't really like each other, I suppose. I mean, we're not blood relations but we were raised together. Sometimes it's just the way things are…'

Katarina resolved in some way to help her adopted cousin as she sipped her tea, constantly entertained by quips from Linus.

When the waiter came and Linus, ever the gentleman, reached for the bill, Katarina couldn't resist.

'By the way, last night, I saw something… well, someone. It was a person, I'm sure of it. A woman tried to get into the room as I slept. I didn't see her face clearly in the dark but…'

'Is that why you screamed?'

'Yes… '

'Perhaps it was a nightmare. Being too much in father's company will do that to a person.' Linus replied, always the joker.

'No… I mean… a woman… I didn't see her face. I saw her hand reach through the window. It was so real, I could almost touch her fingers…'

Linus shivered. He let the silence hang between them for a moment until he spoke…

'It's her again.'

'Who?'

'C'mon, we'll talk outside.'

Linus offered to pay the bill and they walked out towards the tube station on Hampstead High Street.

'I'm not sure it's really my place to say and I'm not exactly sure what you saw but…' Linus glanced over at his cousin with a serious expression on his face…

'Go on…'

'Well, Father should have warned you… but it looks like it's up to me, as usual. Hareton Hall is a freak show.'

Katarina just looked at her cousin; she didn't know what to say. Of course, she hadn't believed in haunted houses before. But then, she had never confronted the possibility of their existence until last night. She suspected some more answers might be locked inside the cover of the diary she now kept. They changed trains. The underground was semi-empty this morning. When the tube stopped at Notting Hill, they walked to Linus' car. He'd parked it outside the station when he couldn't drive home the previous night.

'Jump in, we'll go to the markets then I'll drop you home. Oh, I almost forgot, there's an old school yearbook with empty pages at the back that your mother wrote in extensively. I'd been putting my stuff in storage, preparing to move into a flat in Bayswater but I took this by mistake from the wardrobe. I was going to put it back but I think you might like it. It's in the back seat. I found it a while ago and kept it, so it wouldn't be amongst the things you already have. You could add it to your… investigation. I was never terribly interested, to be honest, so I didn't bother reading it. I just flicked through the photos. Oh, but I wouldn't tell father. He's very secretive about that part of his life, the part he spent with… your mother.'

He reached in and handed Katarina the package.

Katarina took the album possessively and opened a page that contained letters stuck into opened envelopes. They were undated and the post stamp was unclear. Kate's childish handwriting but sophisticated language described a pre-holiday dance where Heath's band was due to perform. _I'm so excited for The Battle of the Bands, _was a sentence that stood out. Her mother had even stuck a small piece of the pink voile from her dress on the page as a keepsake. Katarina ran her fingers over the material. After the first ten pages, which were obviously written by her mother, there was another letter signed by Heath.

'Does your father know we have this?'

'I doubt it,' Linus said. 'All of this was so long ago. Most of it is undated but they must have been written over twenty years ago - way back in the nineties. Anyway, father has no idea what is in every nook and cranny of the house. Probably forgot he ever wrote this stuff. It's bizarre to read. Your mother must've stuck the letters in there. Hard to believe people actually _wrote_ letters back then…' Her cousin trailed off.

Katarina, finding them impossible to resist, stuffed the notes in her bag.

As Linus turned on the ignition, Katarina suddenly wished she was alone at The Grange to ponder her mother's words in detail.

**Chapter Fourteen **

_**Letters **_

_From Kate to Heath _

_Dearest Heath_

_It's the night after the dance and I've been told to pack and be ready to leave in an hour. No one will tell me why I'm wanted at The Hall. It may be something to do with Harrison. No one can find you. I think you must be out hunting. Father insists I am to return home on the next train. My bags are packed and I'm writing this to you in case you don't arrive in time to catch the train with me. I want you to know what I have never told you enough - how much I love you. I am leaving this under your door to read when you return. _

_I keep thinking of the events that led to me being separated from you and wanted to clear up the misunderstanding that occurred… I'm going back to the beginning…_

_Annabelle stopped by (such a swat) on her way from the school library, to show me her dress. Don't ask me how we've become friends but I suppose that's what you could call us, until tonight. Anyway, I'd been trying to get her to wear contacts for ages, and finally she'd agreed. It was like a new person greeted me at the door._

'_Kate, you look beautiful,' she said. I felt it was my turn to repay her compliment._

_We sat together at my dresser, me in my pink satin slip, bought especially to go with my dress for the occasion (I can't believe I'm writing this down!) to impress you later as we planned! Annabelle had draped my dressing gown over her clothes and was trying on my slippers. We painted our nails to match our dresses. Afterwards, I did Annabelle's makeup. I was quite thrilled to have made Belle my personal project as I felt her transformation on the surface would lead to a more profound transformation of her personality._

_I was so excited to see your band play in front of a real audience for the first time. I knew you'd rock the place out; you're so hot and talented, how could you be anything but amazing? And you were amazing, Heath. Don't ever let anyone make you feel different, just because you are. _

_When Annabelle emerged from my bathroom transformed in a cream and silver tasselled dress, I was surprised. Then I complimented my new friend._

'_Wow,' I said, 'you look completely amazing!'_

'_Do you think so? Do you think anyone will notice?'_

_By "anyone" I was pretty sure she meant you and I ignored the insinuation. _

'_Of course, you look beautiful Annabelle,' I said, and meant it._

_Annabelle smiled. She said she knew her pale, icy prettiness wouldn't last. 'I have a slim figure but I know I lack the… specialness that would make a boy like Heath, for example, sit up and take notice.'_

_I knew she wanted me to disagree, but I could never just let her think you were hers for the taking. Instead, I told her any guy would be lucky to have her. And I believed it, (unless that guy was you, of course). Annabelle was, or rather is, perfect girlfriend material, more perfect than me. She's perfectly boring, perfectly spoken and perfectly nice. How could you not like her Heath? Tell me what I saw never happened! Do you remember how much we hated the Hunts as children? How we used to laugh at them?_

_Of course, Edmund has always disliked you because you were braver than him – or so I thought. He called you "rough" but I know Annabelle secretly had a crush on you from the time we all met up at Hareton Hall during summer holidays and I put on a fashion show. Remember? _

_The fashion show began and ended with me showing off my new sports uniform. All of our school friends came and it was my idea to donate the door money to charity! Annabelle was invited to model also, but I went first. Edmund and Annabelle took their seats, open mouthed, on the floor. I'd set up the old ballroom like a theatre and forced you to grudgingly hold the curtains and shine the spotlight. You studied our neighbouring friends without hiding your irritation. You still hadn't forgiven their father for accusing you of harming their dog when we were small, and I don't blame you. You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but inside The Hall that day but this was a chance to "let bygones be bygones," as Greta once said._

'_May I take your coat, Annabelle?' I remember Greta asking. _

'_Yes, thank you very much,' the girl with milk skin answered. You must have found her vaguely pretty, I'm sure, even though you barely showed her any attention when she modelled and clapped loudly when I did. If both she and her brother hadn't irritated us so much with their bland, insipid privilege, perhaps we would all have been friends, earlier. But we always preferred being outside when we were children, didn't we? Playing on Hampstead Heath in the wind, remember?_

_Anyway, earlier tonight Annabelle continued to blabber on as we got ready. _

'_I honestly think Heath is the most handsome boy I've ever met.'_

_I couldn't disagree. I sometimes wonder if Annabelle's plan to befriend me had something to do with wanting to be near you. She stood up and hovered at the entrance to my room when she was nearly ready as if she wanted to share more unasked for information. _

_I turned around from my dressing table._

'_You look like… a princess,' she gasped. It was her turn to flatter me. Annabelle was still gawping at my darkly made up eyes, long gloves, low-cut dress and glitter eye shadow. 'Although I'm not sure the school…' _

'_Oh, I couldn't care less if I get a stupid demerit for wearing a revealing outfit…' I said. 'Don't look so shocked, Annabelle. Come over here and help me tease my hair. It is a 1960's theme after all!'_

'_You look…amazing,' she said as I applied my pale, pink lipstick. _

_It was eight in the evening and the Battle of the Bands Dance had been going for at least half an hour when we arrived. We stood at the top of the stairs surveying the scene we helped create, glitter ball and all. It was spectacular. I knew you were on last and your band was the only one I wanted to cheer for Heath. I thought the school hall, lit up with disco lights, looked amazing, didn't you? I took Annabelle's cream gloved hand in my pink gloved one as we casually walked down the staircase towards the cloak room and saw the whole school lit up with a banner that read Sixth Form Dance._

_When your band played, you guys were awesome. We clapped wildly so you would hear us but you looked straight past me and smiled at Annabelle! She smiled back! I happen to know you'd barely said more than two words to her in all your life, yet she was convinced you were in love with her after that. How could this be so, Heath? I am sorry for doubting you but as her obsession seemed to know no limits. I couldn't help but wonder if you had ever done anything at all to encourage her. _

_The lights were lowered as the heating and the energy in the room warmed and I noticed you pour something from a flask into your water bottle. I think, maybe, you had forgotten your Magenta. You looked hungry. _

_The band started playing again and you were amazing as I always knew you would be. Annabelle's face lit up and I would have started laughing if it wasn't so annoying. I suppose I just decided to fight fire with fire. _

_Soon I was surrounded by a group of boys and some of them started dancing and thrashing to the music and I was caught up in the throng of activity. Food was passed around, teachers stood back and hovered, talking amongst themselves, finally letting everyone dance without bothering to interrupt. _

_The set stopped and afterwards, I saw you attempt to move towards me as Annabelle headed in the opposite direction. You didn't push past her as I expected you to and I refused to show anyone I'd noticed. You looked embarrassed when she clutched your arm and told you how great you were but perhaps you had matured too much to be openly rude as you once might have been. I could barely hear your voices above the dance music but the conversation went something like this: _

'_Hi. The band was amazing,' Annabelle said. _

_You were flattered. I could tell by the careful way you smiled and said, 'Thanks Annabelle.' _

'_It reminds me of the music we played when Kate and I used to make up dances and modelling shows… remember when we lived next door to each other.'_

_How interesting, I thought, when Annabelle knew the dances and fashion shows were entirely directed by me._

'_Of course,' you said, 'how could I forget? You were always so creative,' I could not believe what I was hearing. I also couldn't believe any girl could be quite so…obvious or that you could flatter her so easily. You started packing your guitar in its case and you didn't even give me a second glance. _

_I admit I was occupied with a group of friends by this point but that was because I was so annoyed that you had all but ignored me. How could you, Heath? Finally, you glanced over at me but I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of realising that I'd noticed. I realise now, you were mad at me for not telling you I loved you in return in the cottage the day before. But did you have to pay me back by flirting with Annabelle? It worked. _

_In fact, I barely gave a second to look in your direction. The look on your face said it all. I admit, I was wondering if you were having second thoughts about us. It is true that you are from another world but that is not why I love you, I know that. I know that you would love me even if we'd been brought up together on the street. Games are for other people, Heath, not us. _

_You only have to be yourself with me and I love you completely, for that alone. You once told me you could do anything you wanted, be anyone you wanted and so could I. I am so much like you; I am you. You left too early from the dance, if you heard my reply to Edmund's question but not my true answer. Please come back to me. Save me from whatever fate has in store for me without you. If you are reading this, I am on the train alone and you did not return in time to come with me. I shall wait for you at Hareton Hall…almost as if, although separate, we are one. _

_I love you more than words can ever say._

_Yours forever,_

_Kate _

_The second letter was in Heath's handwriting, dated that night:_

_Dearest Kate_

_Love and loyalty forever, without one the other doesn't exist! How could you imagine otherwise? I have not stopped thinking about you since we parted tonight and I'm writing this now, to give to you in the morning since the house mistress said you could not see me tonight. I walked over to the girls' school to find you but the teachers wouldn't tell me where you had gone. Someone said you had been taken back to London and that because no one could locate me, I am to leave on the morning train. They won't tell me why either, just that I am wanted at home. _

_I feel the need to set things straight between us, since this is our first quarrel and I could not go to sleep angry – or go to sleep at all knowing you are on your way to Hareton Hall without me. I shall give this to you when I see you since it will be easier than spoken words. _

_I hope father is okay. You know I love him as if he were my own, and I have a strange feeling something is up from the way the school counsellor has been speaking to me with added empathy. No one will tell me anything. _

_I hope you at least decide to open this because I know you were angry with me last night. In light of what has happened, our quarrel seems pointless, so please, when you receive this, don't just throw it out the window. You know I never write letters, never, but I am making the exception for you, because you are special Kate and always will be, because I love you forever and you know I always will._

_I'm going to start at the beginning and I'm warning you, this letter is going to be more than a few pages long…_

_Okay, it's true that I was deeply embarrassed by Annabelle being "all over me" as you put it. In my defence, it was past eight and I hadn't been able to get to my supplies and I felt strangely weakened, my desire for blood stronger than ever. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but it is the truth. I won't go on about it but I was feeling less than my best which may have added to the perception that I was ignoring you. Remember Kate, it is hard to be the one saying "I love you," and not hearing those words in return. _

_As for the Band Battle, I think we were attracting a few fans (this bit is supposed to make you laugh!) but I admit Annabelle was very obvious tonight. Even our drummer noticed her behaviour. She credited you with her makeover! Perhaps you should have given her a make-under - just kidding. Yes, I smiled back at her as I glanced around the room, waiting for YOU who seemed to be ignoring me! We had agreed to meet outside after the set had finished, to continue the party…elsewhere. But the scout from London was here and the band wanted me to put in an appearance. After he left, Mr Jones was on the war path trying to round up the boys who spiked the punch …guess who? Annabelle was a decoy, someone to hide behind. I am ashamed to say that is why I went outside with her and this is what happened next…_

_Annabelle sipped her drink and tried to make conversation, thrilling lines such as:_

'_Do you have plans, Heath, for when school ends?'_

_I replied, 'yes,' wondering how long before it would be safe to go inside._

'_I don't… not really. Father wants me to apply for university. I thought I might like to go to Art College in London instead.'_

_I nodded, still waiting for you, feigning interest in her vapid conversation. I glanced through the glass doors and saw you and the moronic Edmund Hunt, dancing. Great choice if you wanted to make me jealous Kate, it worked._

_Annabelle looked up and said, 'My brother seems to have taken a shine to…your sister.'_

_I gulped my drink as one of the band made a secretive gesture in his direction indicating more alcohol would be forthcoming. _

'_She's… not my sister,' I said quickly (because you aren't!)_

'_No… I'm sorry, of course not, but you were raised together…' Annabelle added, more annoyingly than ever. _

'_Only until we came here…almost six years ago now,' I replied, setting the record straight. _

_Annabelle then changed the subject._

'_I thought I'd hate it here but sometimes I prefer the school to home. I like having friends of my own.'_

_(I'm not sure what you said to her that afternoon, Kate, but she was under the impression you were her new best friend!)_

_I admit, it's true, this next part makes me seem inconsiderate but I was bored by her conversation and looked around the room. I became even more annoyed by your flirty behaviour with rich boy Edmund. Annabelle was all…wobbly by then. I think she'd been drinking too much punch even though it was never designed for her! She kept putting her hand on my shoulder to steady herself and at one point I returned the gesture to hold her up!_

_I looked across the room and there you were, beautiful in your pink dress, glaring at me. You turned your head (to listen to Edmund's scintillating conversation, no doubt). _

_Annabelle said, 'Oh look, Kate's dress fans out in waves across the floor, in waves at her feet like the ocean…'_

_And at that moment, that's exactly where I wanted to be with you. As far away from that school and our families and all the people who ever knew us, because I only want you, Kate, forever. _

_Then, the music reached a fever pitch and Annabelle was jumping up and down and you were in the middle of the group and I was watching you and then you…fell down._

'_Oh,' Annabelle said, suddenly still, 'I hope Kate's okay.'_

_I moved towards you but Edmund Hunt got there first. _

_Annabelle looked at me all gaga by then. It's true that I glanced at her, but more like she was a consolation prize! This was just as you turned heads paying Edmund your undivided attention! (One of my teammates once walked in on the pair of them – brother and sister – trying to teach each other to dance in the student common room!) Honestly, Kate, we should never let either of them get between us. They are not worth it! (Jealous? Yes, at least I admit it!) I turned away as Edmund was helping you up. _

'_Do you want to go outside?' Annabelle asked me, unexpectedly. _

_What was I supposed to say? I suppose I could have declined and stormed off like a girl but I wanted to make you pay. I'm sorry, I know that love is patient and kind; I know that is what we are taught but you and I are different. Words are not enough. I just want to be with you…impatiently, all the time. And sometimes I want to suck the vein in your wrist but I hold back because I'm trying to be better than that for you Kate, I'm trying not to have to be what I was born to be. You make me try to be a better man. Tonight I was less than my best, I know…_

_The balcony was divided into sections for groups to talk and socialize. _

_I made sure rich boy saw me as you told Edmund you were okay while he helped you outside. I wanted to make you jealous so I put my arm around Annabelle then released her moments later. _

'_Wait here,' I told Annabelle, 'I'm going to get you some water. I'll be back in a moment.' That's when I heard you. Rich boy spoke first._

'_Are you sure you're okay?'_

'_Ah, I think it might be some kind of… minor sprain,' you said. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to… ?'_

'_No, I like the fresh air.'_

_I could hear your words clearly Kate as I went to get Annabelle's drink. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to your room? Or would you like me to get…your friend, the one you're always hanging out with,' Edmund said jealously I might add. _

'_That is not necessary, I do some things by myself you know… and we are not always together.' I could hear those words Kate! You spoke them!_

'_Well, certainly, people don't see you together but I've heard…' he went on._

'_Perhaps you listen to too much student gossip…' you sounded mortified that people might guess we were together!_

'_No…not at all,' Edmund said, 'I just thought you were with…'_

_I was standing outside the balcony tent by then, hidden from view, but once I heard the topic of conversation I couldn't resist pausing. Trust is fragile Kate! You need to explain the rest to me because I never stop loving you no matter what you do…you added these words: _

'_There is nothing to think… I'm my own person. I'm not with…anyone. I don't have a boyfriend…'_

_I admit I freaked out standing there in the shadows like a stranger to your life. Hadn't we just spent the morning together? Hadn't we been closer to each other than anyone else in this life? I wanted to teach you a lesson for being disloyal, so I stormed off through the crowd._

_By now you must know, Annabelle means nothing to me, nothing. YOU ARE MY LIFE KATE SPENCER._

_Later_

_Then I woke up this morning to hear your father had died suddenly. I am on the morning train to London, drinking my supply. Honestly, I feel completely lost and only want to see your face again. Our petty argument seems just that. He was the only father I ever knew, too, Kate. I never met a kinder more sincere man in my life. I'm so sorry, Kate. _

_I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER. _

_I will be at Hareton Hall as soon as possible _

_Hxxxxxxxxxxxx. (and here the page was smothered in at least a dozen kisses and hugs and what looked like the smudge of tears…) _

I read over the childish letters in the dark. It seemed plausible that Kate and Heath were separated as part of a plan Harrison was forming.

Soon after, Kate was sent to Finishing School in Switzerland, where she stayed for three months until her eighteenth birthday. Both sets of school fees were cancelled and Heath was thrown out of the house, onto the street, his inheritance "absorbed" in the family trust and expenditure – justified by Harrison's appointment as the executor of the family estate. Neither of the younger Spencers appears to have completed secondary school in Scotland. A final letter from Kate (written in Switzerland) filled me in on some of the missing details.

_Dear Heath _

_By now you will know where I am and why and I wait patiently to join you. _

_How typical of Harrison to have tricked the school into separating us, and how alone and terrible I feel without you now. I wait for you and please know everything that happened at the dance is ancient history; it all means nothing in light of recent events. I still cannot believe father is gone. _

_Greta is taking this with her and has promised to give it only to you. Harrison, as you know, confined me to my room before I was packed off to Switzerland. He locked the door and barred the window after he dragged me from your path and would not let me leave this room. He says my place is with my family and not with "a freak". But you are my family Heath, and if that makes us freaks together, so be it. We will meet as planned and Harrison will never separate us again. _

_You won't believe what he has done! His new girlfriend, Frances (we call her Franny and so far she is a good natured sort of person, trying to bring me food and drink when Harrison is not about) is soon to be his wife! The little boy (a mere toddler) is her brother. His name is Hinton. They allowed him into my room to give me company before I was packed off to Finishing School. How kind of them. He too is a good natured little boy, with a face like a cherub. He likes to play with his toys and offers them to me to "make me better". I hate to imagine how Harrison's influence could change him since he is such a sweet child. I have tried to warn Frances but she is so "in love" she refuses to listen, and so far, Harrison has only presented his nicer side. He insists I am in my room for my own good and I barely have the energy to resist any more. With you gone, I have nowhere to turn. I have enclosed half the money we saved together in my piggy bank as children. I'd hidden it and you will need it more than me. Please don't send it back! _

_This will be shorter than the last letter. I just want to clear up what happened at the stupid Battle of the Bands and we can talk when I finally see you. Greta has promised to send you the details and I know you will contact her; I just know it. _

_Our school days seem pretty aimless in light of what has happened. Father died in my arms just before you arrived home. It was horrible, Heath. I miss him so much. I think he was our only ally. _

_Back to our stupid misunderstanding; I know my thoughtless behaviour hurt you more than any beating or withdrawal of privileges we ever received from Harrison, just as yours did me; so not worth it. I love you, too, more than anything or anyone else. You should know, before we make plans, that this is what happened after you left the ball room that night. _

_I told Edmund that I couldn't ever go out with him. He asked me if I was "attached" to anyone (which I found old fashioned and funny although I hardly imagine myself laughing ever again right now.)_

'_I can't go out with you, Edmund,' I said._

'_But, you just told me you are not attached to anyone,' he replied._

_**That's because I'm… more than attached**__. Those were my exact words, but you didn't stay in the room long enough to hear them. _

_I added, 'It is true that you don't see Heath and I together… in public or at school much but… we are more__** than attached**__. We are together in secret. We plan to move to London next year but of course my older brother would never approve so we just keep it to ourselves. It is true we are young but we are like, __**the same person. **__I could never imagine being without Heath.' And blah blah blah I went on, embarrassed to be relaying those words now, but they are TRUE. _

'_I see,' Edmund replied. Pale and dorky though he is; I think he meant us both well. 'I knew you were close… Anyway, I'm going up to Cambridge next year….' And after I had assured him there was no hope we would ever be more than friends, Edmund looked away, hurt. So please don't hate him for liking me because I think he is actually a good person. He seemed to understand and asked if we could remain friends. I didn't know what else to say so I said "yes", but truly, it all meant nothing. I tried to get up but the pain in my ankle made me hesitate. I looked for you but you were NOWHERE. That night I dreamt that we were parted and I begged you to come back to me. _

_Tell me this isn't true! _

_COME BACK TO ME NOW HEATH. I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER AND EVER._

_Love Kate (sealed with a thousand kisses)_

**Chapter Fifteen**

_**Shadows **_

And here I sat, the daughter of such a woman. I was quite surprised, I admit, at the evident depth of affection between her and Heath and quite annoyed at how meanly Heath had spoken of my loyal, kind and loving father. It was hard to get over the disloyalty in my mother's letters, but I tried to justify my reading of them in the name of "research".

Greta walked into the kitchen light and she relayed to me the story of Kate and Heath's parting. As we sipped tea and I waited for my cousin Hinton to emerge so we could go and work at the studio like we planned.

This is what Greta told me:

'When Heath arrived home he was ignored by Harrison who had brought his new girlfriend with him. Heath was just counting down the days until he and Kate could go back to school. Harrison had other plans. He'd withdrawn the fees for both children for their final semester of school. They had no say in the matter.

Heath couldn't have cared less about boarding without Kate close by and Kate had never been academic. When we arrived back at The Hall, Heath discovered Kate in a heap, on the couch, crying over her father's old photographs. When I went in to take them some tea, they were huddled together so close; I thought no one would ever tear them apart. Heath was also distraught. Your grandfather had been the only adult (apart from me) to love him and take care of him.

When the news had arrived, the worst, Kate and Heath were left alone. Heath hugged Kate in the child's playroom while she wept and he unsuccessfully tried to hold back tears for the only man who had ever been a parent to him.

After, we all sat in the old playroom as the news from a television blared on in the background giving us all a good excuse not to talk. Repeat images of political unrest in other parts of the world were on replay in a documentary. It was an irony not lost on any of us, for it was obvious, our world within Hareton Hall was crumbling.

I agreed to stay on to try to protect the youngster Hinton and Harrison was seemingly civil to Kate throughout that week. He had more important plans to occupy his mind. We were stunned to discover he intended to install his new girlfriend Frances, as his wife, (they married at a registry office the following Saturday).

At first, Franny was warm towards Kate and barely civil to Heath, (taking her cue from Harrison). Once she'd married Harrison, she lost interest in everyone else in the house, including her younger brother, and took to going on long walks across the heath. Hareton Hall has that strange effect on people or maybe it was the revelation that her new husband wasn't all he seemed. Sometimes I'd hear him yelling at her in the night and would place my hands over young Hinton's ears. I thought it a blessing that Kate was to be sent away but it was mean of Harrison to cancel their fees for the final term.

Kate's older brother had made plans to conquer and divide the two younger "shareholders" as he thought of them. He'd never really been able to control Kate. Although there had been a vast inheritance left to both the younger Spencers, Harrison made sure that Heath's share was written off to various expenses. Heath and Kate were still minors, after all. The shares that remained were left to be invested in the family trust and managed by Harrison on behalf of the two teenagers.

Harrison insisted that Heath make his room in the basement and groom the horses every morning. Heath did so, happily in fact, preferring to be outside rather than anywhere near Harrison. I asked when Heath would be enrolled back in school but Harrison seemed to think that was nothing to be concerned about. I feared the worst; that he intended to throw Heath on the street the moment he turned eighteen the following week.

Both Heath and Kate were not unaware of the plot against them as they took the horses to be exercised on the heath that last cold, autumn day when Heath was still in my care. Kate was in a near dreamlike state with her grief having marked a serious return to study as nearly pointless. 'After all, how many artists need an academic education, Greta?' she asked me. Really, Kate was delusional.

Instinctively, Heath, who had never trusted Harrison, knew there would be changes at Hareton Hall and he suspected his plans for university would be delayed in some way without access to the necessary funds. He needed money to hire a lawyer and by the time he had that he knew the funds would be siphoned off. He just hung on, taking his medication as scheduled, accessing his secret supplies to normalize his blood, and all the time wanting to rip Harrison to shreds. He hung on for Kate, waiting for her to turn eighteen so they could run away and never be under the control of Harrison again. If they ran off too soon, Harrison would inform the authorities that he suspected Heath was a vampire. Though not illegal, it would officially be a mark against him for life. There was so much discrimination. For example, vampires had to get permission to hold certain jobs and human-vampire marriage was discouraged.

Meanwhile, Harrison had cancelled the cheques Heath had sent to apply for university and it was too late for him to enrol to finish the school term at the local comprehensive. A scholarship was out of the question until the following year. Heath turned eighteen in a matter of days and Harrison would no longer be his court appointed guardian. Kate and Heath tried not to think about the family tensions as they rode together that day.

Kate had started eating again, having lost her appetite for a week and I had wisely packed the picnic basket with a lunch of their favourite things. Kate had put in a bottle of apple cider for after and her favourite mohair red checked blanket. Harrison was busy planning his next party for his new wife and to impress future investors in the various businesses he had purchased. He'd also taken to drinking in the afternoons (not a good sign). Kate's older brother was only too happy not to be bothered with the younger members of the household as long as they were out of his sight.

Hampstead Heath was dotted with people on that autumnal Saturday; mother's pushing babies in prams, small children running and playing games with kites, picnicking groups. These appeared to be fully functioning families, Kate was thinking, unlike hers. The pergola offered beautiful views across Hampstead and there were artists sketching near The Hill Garden as Kate and Heath strolled. They walked with their horses for about thirty minutes to reach the hidden garden and Glass House. Near the fish pond at the far end of a small alcove, there was a lovers' bench with panoramic views of North London.

They placed a blanket on the ground after they'd found water for the animals. Kate placed the food in the centre, while they talked and enjoyed the spread of chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, tea and crusty French bread that lay before them. Well, Kate did. Heath only ate the chicken – all of it. It was to be their last carefree day. As if to recognize that fact the sun hid in shadows behind the clouds as they talked, finally spitting down in tiny drops of rain. They had to quickly pack up all their belongings and head for the hidden, glass arboretum. As children, escorted to a night fair, they had once seen the stars in the evening sky from the same spot.

'Do you forgive me for what I said, the night of the dance?' Kate asked. 'You should have stayed to hear the rest.'

'Of course, Kate, tell me again,' Heath said as he brushed her hair with his fingers.

'Well,' Kate said, sitting up. 'I added, after you left, that actually, you are rather…strange looking and maybe not quite my type…'

Heath laughed, looked irritated, then despondent but as he got up Kate pleaded with him, 'I'm joking. Look, I found our initials that we marked into the tree when we were children. Here they are, bigger than before, clear as if they were carved yesterday.'

Sure enough, the initials of the pair were hidden at the base of the tree in a place only they knew to look. The letters were a legacy of their youth.

'You see, I knew even then. There is no one else for me and it is true. In this world or any other, I have known we were meant for each other, forever.'

Kate placed her finger to his lips.

'We don't know what will happen, yet. We'll find out tomorrow.'

Tomorrow was Heath's eighteenth birthday. Kate's was three months later. After that, they planned to run away together and get married. They thought by making it all official, it would be difficult for Harrison to separate them. As the rain spat down upon the glass roof, Heath leant over the seat they shared and kissed Kate, pulling her closer.

'Kate Spencer, will you marry me?'

'Yes,' she said, confidently, after they kissed.

'I don't have the ring with me. It's being made…so this is the informal proposal part…' They'd been whispering about getting married for weeks. Once they were of age, they could sever all ties with Harrison and make their own decisions. Kate had already spoken to the vicar who had known her since childhood.

Heath and Kate had been planning to elope for weeks but recent family events had hastened the proceedings. Kate put her arms around him and they hugged. Together, they fell onto the ground, laughing. The girl rolled on top of him; she was very strong and athletic and had him in a gridlock, on his back as he tried to shake her off, all the time trying to kiss her beautiful neck.

Later that night, Kate wrote in her diary that her wedding to Heath would be a triumph of love and hope over reality.

'I need to hear you say it, Heath. What I'm about to do - run away with you - means my family will disown me and we can't ever behave like we did at the dance. There can never be…misunderstandings that we can't fix.'

'How can you doubt me for a second, Kate? You are my family now and I am yours. I have never loved nor will I love anyone the way I love you. You are everything to me. You are my world…and the only reason I'm here. I would have bolted a million miles away from Harrison by now if it didn't mean I'd miss you so much…' Suddenly the blood in Heath's veins surged. His mouth felt dry. He recognized the taste of venom in his mouth.

'Of course, I'm worried. Dr Vincent has told me that it's unlikely I will revert but I may evolve. On my birthday, the day I reach 'full maturity' as he put it, we don't know what will happen.'

'Whatever happens,' Kate said, 'I promise to be there.'

'Kate, I could start off mild…and then if I transition, I may become… uncontrollable.'

'I love you, Heath.'

'I love you too, Kate.'

'That's all I need to know.'

Heath covered Kate in kisses as she laughed and brushed the ground off their clothes.

'I'm glad we're making it official,' Heath said.

Kate smiled.

'We only have to wait until three months after your birthday, it's all arranged.' Kate said.

Heath hesitated, 'Remember, neither of us knows what…my condition will mean…' Just now, he'd nearly lost control and kissed her a little too close, too deep.

'I accept you, no matter what. But,' she joked, 'if you think we're too young…'

Heath's face dropped. 'You mean you're not sure?'

'Yes, of course I'm sure. I just want to try to smooth things over with Harrison. It will be easier on us.'

'Listen to me Kate, there is no "smoothing things over" with Harrison. He means to make our lives as difficult as possible. Harrison cannot be trusted. He will not help us and he will not help you if you try to make it up with him. You remember how he used to treat us as children? The hours where he would lock me in the basement and put you in a cupboard before father came home and discovered him? Don't you remember his callous behaviour, the cruel beatings?'

'Yes, of course I do. He was always jealous of how much father doted on us. He was jealous of how much you and I loved each other. He called our desires…unnatural. I often wondered what he meant since he was never told about your…condition.'

'I assumed he meant because we were raised together, but that hardly applies now.'

'Harrison is practically my only family… apart from you. I always thought once he got over his teenage phase… you know he really went off the rails at boarding school, going to wild parties, indulging in bad behaviour. He brought all of that home with him. I just thought he might change.'

'It's his nature, Kate. Some people don't change.'

'It would be easier… if he did.'

'You mean, it would be easier for us… financially.'

'Well, yes. I am used to having nice things and a comfortable house…'

'Those things aren't important…'

'I know but…'

'You're not listening to me, Kate. I will give you all of those things… and more…just not yet.'

'We're so young, Heath.'

'Do you doubt me Kate?'

'No, no I could never… I love you Heath. I would run away to the moon with you, but just give me these few days to try to smooth things over. We'll leave the moment I turn eighteen, either way. I promise.'

Heath looked down at his shoes as Kate stood up and shook the blanket. She reached over and kissed him softly then ruffled his hair like she used to when they were children. He took her wrist and kissed it as if he would never release her from his touch.

'I am yours, forever,' Kate whispered. 'Sometimes it scares me how much I love you. It is as if I have left my own self and you and I are complete, only when we are together.'

They merged under the fading clouds as the shadows of two lovers became one in the dark.

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**Escape – Present Day**_

'Breakfast!' Greta called to the inhabitant upstairs. Heath was hurriedly dressing and came bounding down the stairs looking like a much younger man with his riding boots in hand, ready to go out.

'Not going to the office this morning?' Greta asked as she handed Heath his coffee which he hurriedly gulped down.

'I'm going riding, if the stables are still standing.'

'Well, the storm stopped about a week ago, but it's been raining ever since so I'm not sure it's the best weather for riding. Mud everywhere.'

'It'll be fine,' Heath assured her. 'Oh, I see we have a visitor.'

'Yes…your, er… niece, Katarina. She seems to have become quite fond of her cousins.'

Heath looked at Greta blankly. 'Where are they?'

'They've left already. Katarina and Linus went out to find props and attend a dress rehearsal for the play. What are you getting yourself into Heath?'

'Nothing I can't get out of. She has a right to know her cousins. They have a right to know her.'

Greta raised an eyebrow. 'This isn't more…vengeance, is it Heath? Because, you know, you already fought that war.'

'Did I Greta? I'm not so sure.' Heath, in a rare show of affection (he was in a surprisingly good mood this morning), leant over and pecked Greta on the cheek.

'Don't worry so much Greta. It's time I had some more young people about me. The place seems a lot sunnier this morning.'

'Oh, you and your "young people", Greta smiled. 'You don't look a day over twenty-six. I wish you could give me the secret to your eternal youth.'

'You don't know the half,' It was a strange comment, Greta thought, since Heath had shared his secret with her long ago.

The wind had flattened the heather outside. A slight trick of sunlight shone across the park turning the other side of the field gold.

Greta shrugged. 'Trying to stop Heath getting involved in something he wanted had been almost pointless, from the time he was a little boy.' She wrote in her journal. _'I knew I could do nothing to persuade him against his plan…' _

_**Twenty Years Ago**_

Kate crept into Hareton Hall when it was way past dinner the night Heath had proposed to her. There was lightness in her step as she moved upstairs to pack her things. In the dark, she heard breathing. At first she thought it was just Frances, who had fallen asleep soundly on the couch but it was also her older brother, Harrison. He flicked the switch on above the couch and all of the chandeliers shone at once, creating a halo above Kate's head. Her brother stared at her menacingly from the corner of the drawing room.

Meanwhile, Heath was delayed. He'd taken the horses to the stables to wash them down. Kate dodged Harrison and wandered over to pat Hinton's head and carry him to his room. He was curled up asleep in a lounge chair with his puppy and she hesitated to wake him. Hinton was always content to play with his animals. Today it was a new pet, but as often he picked up a lost kitten outside in the garden and took it inside to feed. There were always small creatures that found their way into Hareton Hall and Hinton's menagerie.

Hinton stirred awake just as Franny, snuggled into Harrison's shoulder, opened her eyes. Kate realised her sister-in-law must still be delusional about Harrison's true nature.

Harrison had, these past few days, mostly ignored Heath and tried to curry favour with Kate. Greta wrote in her diary that she wondered what new scheme he was planning.

'Kate,' he said out of the blue. 'Welcome home. You've returned.' He nudged Frances. 'Franny wondered if you'd like to go on a shopping trip with her…to Paris.'

Kate tried to ignore Harrison's bribe.

'Dearest Kate, I want you and Frances to be friends. Paris is close to Switzerland where Franny and I will be skiing. The trip is on me.' Harrison had decided it would help to have Kate on side, less hassle when he needed her to sign legal documents.

'When?'

'Next week.'

Kate nodded, although she and Heath would be far away by then.

Since Oxford, Harrison had worked at the family firm and in the weeks since her father had died, Harrison had taken over not just her finances, but control of the entire estate. Until she was eighteen, he had all the power.

'I've been thinking, Kate… and your mother agrees, it's time for you to go back to school. Father would have wanted you to complete your education.'

'And Heath?' Kate added.

'Oh, well, that's up to him.'

Harrison basically ignored the question. 'That boarding school in Scotland was always useless. It's where I went after all and I doubt things have improved and…I'm concerned that you spend too much time doing nothing meaningful there. You can finish your studies in Switzerland, visit your mother and also learn something useful at the same time.' Harrison looked at the kitchen disdainfully, 'like how to cook for your future husband.'

Frances smiled as Harrison sniggered.

Kate knew without asking that he did not factor Heath into his statement and their plan would have to go into full swing. Kate was angry, however, and she couldn't resist a retort.

'You went to university. Why shouldn't I have that opportunity?'

'Dear Kate, you will be rich. What do you need university for? You'll only marry and have children like all the women before you. Oh, and let me give you some advice, no man wants a wife who… talks back.'

Kate couldn't believe Harrison's disturbing psychological argument. It was the 1990s after all. Harrison had always been poison; she should never have even bothered trying to reason with him.

'And to be honest, Kate, father's contacts helped me achieve, not my marks at school. We don't have him to help us anymore,' Harrison said, just to rub it in.

Meanwhile, Greta stirred the pot in the kitchen, going over her written instructions to the cook regarding the lunch for the meeting of twelve Board members that Harrison had called. Heath was still in the stables grooming the horses. Greta raised an eyebrow.

Harrison continued. 'As you know, you are not yet eighteen, so you are still legally under my care. The truth is Kate, unless you want to be out on the street, you have no choice but to comply with my wishes or…'

'Or?'

'If you run off with Heath, I'll call the police and have you both brought back and the "charity case" arrested.'

'On what grounds?'

'Oh, I'll make something up. I'm far more creative than you realize. I have friends in high places. I'm sure we can accuse him of something…freakish or financial. Dipping into charitable funds? Being a vampire? That could keep him detained for a while.'

'You have no proof.'

'My suspicions are enough to make an awful lot of trouble for you both. Besides, you are under age…'

'By three months…'

Harrison's wife, who had been curled up in the corner of the couch, stretched and went upstairs. Before she left she kissed her husband's cheek, oblivious to the shouting or his true nature. After all, she had a family fortune to protect as well and the merging of both family companies could only be profitable for both families. As Frances left, she smiled at Kate with an almost pitying look. In that moment, Kate realised she was all but alone. If she ran to the stables where Heath was washing the horses and they went away somewhere with what little funds they had, they would be running forever if Harrison had his way.

Well, they'd just have to take that risk.

'I don't want to go to Switzerland, Harrison.'

'It's all arranged Kate. The driver will take you to the airport in about ten minutes. Don't worry, Franny will meet you in Paris the first weekend. Mmm…I sense your hesitation. I feel Heath has brought you quite low in the world. You are to leave this afternoon. Go upstairs and pack your things. Oh, and don't fret. The Hunts have a chalet for the holidays. You are invited to stay for the season. You should be happy. Six months will go in six weeks. Then, when you've finished school, if you want to throw your life away on the charity case, who am I to stop you?'

'No. Father would have wanted us to stay together.'

'Father isn't here now. I'm the head of this household and you have nothing unless I give it to you. Learn to obey me Kate, at least until you can earn your own living.' Harrison looked around him and added as an afterthought, 'although the women in this household have never been very good at doing that.'

'Maybe that's because the men in the family refuse to educate them.'

'Excuse me?' Harrison said.

'And Heath?'

'Heath is eighteen at midnight Kate. What he does is no business of ours. I have sent a messenger to encourage him to leave the property at once. I shall send him packing with plenty of cash, Kate. No need to worry.'

'That's a lie! You've always been jealous of him!' Kate yelled at her older brother from the top of the stairs.

'Even so,' Harrison said coolly. 'We'll see who has the last laugh now.'

'Where is he?'

'I have a police officer outside in the stables waiting to explain his rights to him. I expect he will choose to leave sooner rather than…later. He should have turned eighteen by the time he…chooses to go.'

'Another lie…he'd never leave without telling me…'

'Well, after he's been told about your decision, he's sure to want to leave. It's almost midnight after all. What were you both doing out in the park so late? Never mind, don't answer that.' Harrison said smugly.

'Heath knows it would not be my decision…that I didn't have a choice.'

'Mmm…' Harrison said with a smile. 'Well, we didn't really explain it to him like that.'

'I will not leave without seeing him.'

'Heath took his bags and left a few minutes ago. He'd be half way down the road by now.' Kate moved to the front door but Harrison warned her with his words. 'If he wants you, I'm sure he'll write. I must tell you Kate, this teenage passion you have for him seems to me to be very one-sided.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I have it on good authority…'

'Whose?'

'Edmund Hunt's since you're so interested.'

'What has he been telling you?'

'Well, he happened to mention to the son of a colleague of mine, that Heath and his sister had been quite close…'

'Another lie.'

'Is it?'

'You know Heath can't stand her.'

'Really? Well in my experience where there's smoke, there's fire. Go and pack your bags and stop behaving like a moron. A few months in Switzerland will do you the world of good. You can leave in the morning. And I'm warning you, Kate, you don't actually have a choice.'

Kate turned to go up the stairs, holding back tears.

'Haven't you forgotten something?'

'What?'

'Say thank you.'

Kate ignored him. She ran up the staircase. When she reached her bedroom Kate looked through the windows. The stables were quiet, the horses almost silently eating hay. Heath was nowhere to be seen. He must have been dragged off the property. Kate moved through the connecting door to the playroom, the place in which she once gained many hours of solace. The door slammed shut and Harrison locked it behind her.

Screaming was useless. Instead, she leaned against the door, slumped to the carpet and cried.

After a few minutes, Kate sighed. Harrison had not barred the windows. She was wrong to try to reason with her brother. This was all her fault for not running away sooner.

The girl picked herself up, went to her secret hiding place under the floorboards and found the documents she needed. Quickly, she threw her passport and some belongings into a bag and crawled out of the window like she used to when she was a child. She scraped her arm sliding down the scaffolding outside the building, flung her things into the car (she'd hidden a spare set of keys in the stables), and sped down the road towards the intersection. She was sure Heath could not have gone too far; then she remembered how fast he could run. The car shuddered and ground to a halt. The petrol gauge came up empty. Harrison must have emptied most of the tank, suspecting she'd try to escape. She would have to go by foot across the heath.

**Chapter Seventeen**

_**Midnight**_

The boy was walking quickly. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder full of supplies and the fruits of his gambling stuffed into the back pocket of his black jeans. Kate caught up with him and flung her arms around him.

He kissed and hugged her in return.

'I was going to wait for you, here,' he said. Kate looked closely at his face. The skin around his right eye was turning black…

'The police officer did that?'

'He wasn't a policeman. Just a thug Harrison hired,' Heath said bitterly.

'I'm so sorry. We should have left sooner,' Kate said, kissing him. His lips were still warm. 'It was foolish of me to try to find the good in Harrison where there is so little.' Kate added regretfully.

They hid behind the shelter of the bus shed as the weather turned and rain spat from the dark sky. Soon it would be midnight and they'd have to hide until morning. They were together now and immune to the outside world.

'This is all that matters,' Kate said as she hugged Heath for warmth.

'C'mon,' the boy said, releasing her. 'There won't be any buses until morning. We must find warmer shelter. Harrison is probably in an alcoholic stupor by now so there's no need for us to freeze to death.'

They trudged across the ground in the dark.

It was almost midnight when Heath began to feel a stirring in his arms. Exhausted, they rested at the base of an oak tree. The muscles in Heath's legs tightened and he was woken by the strong and sweet scent of human blood. Kate was bundled up in her coat next to him. She had scratched her arm, climbing down the side of Hareton Hall and Heath had a strong desire to lick the scratch. He stretched, resisting the almost irresistible. He knew he had to get to his vampire specialist in London, today if possible. He felt sure Kate would understand. The muscles in his body thumped and tightened. The need to drink blood overwhelmed him.

He quickly grabbed a packet of Magenta from his backpack. It was the new product his specialist had urged him to take a sample of during his last visit. This liquid sated him, momentarily, and he fell asleep again next to Kate as the snow began to fall on the glass roof above them.

They'd had no choice but to wait out the storm in the glass house, the place where he and Kate had once loved to visit, loved to be together, just seated side by side, barely bold enough to touch. Heath remembered best those moments of wonder and they only added to his love for her. Meanwhile, his desire to plunge his fangs into her neck was becoming more intense by the minute.

'Heath?' the girl asked sleepily.

'Kate?'

He nudged her awake. The blue coat she hid under was long and heavy, made for stronger weather and travel.

Kate opened her red eyes. He could see she had cried herself to sleep. 'We can never go back,' she whispered. 'He threatened to tell everyone about you or worse… have you framed for some fake financial crime… and he'd be capable of doing it, you know. He can forge your signature on documents…'

Heath looked away.

'I doubt he'd go through with it. He doesn't want to publicly besmirch the family name. Wipe away your tears, Kate. We have each other.'

Kate put her arms around him, but for the first time, he pushed her back.

'Don't Kate,'

'Why not?'

'I can feel a change tonight. I need to go to Harley Street…'

'We'll go together,' Kate said.

They huddled on the bench as Heath started to sweat. The girl spread her coat over the boy.

'You should leave me Kate; I don't know what is going to happen next. I want you to be safe. Safe, from me.'

'You can't be serious. You can't seriously… I could never love anyone as I have loved you… all my life you are the only one for me.'

'And you for me.'

'What has happened? What did Harrison say to you?'

Heath looked away.

'He told me I'm a…freak. That he didn't want my blood tainting this family…'

'That's not true! I love you. If you are a freak then I'm one too and I don't care what the world says…'

'Kate, listen to me. On the street, being pursued, we are nothing. Give me time. I shall get my antidotes, supplies, a job, make some money and…come for you.'

'No. Don't.'

Heath got up.

'No. I will come to you. I'm writing down this address, in London. It's a little café where I once visited with father in Covent Garden when I was small, before he brought me home that night to meet you. I went there once a few months ago with Greta. I kept the business card. Here, I've written all the details. Meet me there, eight am in three months on the twenty-eighth. The day you turn eighteen, you will be free of him. We will meet there and be together, forever.'

'Promise me.'

'I promise to find you again, if we are ever parted. But we are not going to be parted.'

The lovers embraced.

Heath's hearing had sharpened. 'I sense they are near…'

'No, I cannot let you go,' Kate said. 'I cannot live without you.'

'Kate!' He whispered, his desire to fang her was stronger than ever. Heath whispered softly as his knees fell to the ground 'I love you.'

A shout could be heard in the distance, then a whistle and a voice, 'She's in there!' Headlights shone in through the glass.

'Careful officer, he's got a gun,' Harrison said. 'He took it from the stables. He tried to kill me and he's abducted my sister…'

Momentarily, Heath slumped from the light which imitated the sun. Heath had his arm around what looked like Kate's neck and the police officer must have misconstrued what he saw.

'Don't shoot!' Kate yelled.

It was too late.

The shot ran out in the cold night air and went right through Heath's chest, barely missing his heart.

He shuddered and writhed in pain. It was a shot no human being could survive.

Kate was stunned. Motionless, she barely made a sound.

The police officer stared in horror at the lifeless young male. He was speechless as he bent over Heath's ashen body. The policeman checked the packet in the boy's lifeless fingers. His fist contained nothing but a water bottle inside a brown paper bag. No weapon existed on his body.

Kate screamed hysterically and placed her head upon her loved one's chest as she sobbed.

'Heath, Heath!'

Moments passed.

Harrison took Kate's arm and dragged her to her feet. She fought him all the way to the car and finally broke free of him, turning and running back to Heath's body.

The police officer, chilled from the night air and the shock of what he'd done, began dialling emergency from his car radio.

Kate screamed again as Harrison took a swipe at her. He forcibly dragged her back to the car but she punched Harrison and kicked him twice as hard. She ran back to Heath and flung herself upon him. In that moment, he was cold and still as she sobbed in the shadows. There was not another human in sight of the distraught girl.

'And then,' Greta added casually, 'the bullet holes started to heal. The flesh grew upon itself until not a mark could be seen through the holes in his shirt. Heath's chest began to rise and fall, his fingers moved, his warm, brown eyes opened.' Greta looked at me as she finished her tea. 'The last words from Heath before he got up and fled were, 'I will pay Harrison back for what he's done.'

Greta sighed. 'And sure enough, he did.'

**Chapter Eighteen **

_**London**_

Kate whispered in his ear, before he'd disappeared into the night, 'I'll pretend to go along with his plan - three months from now. The twenty-eighth like we planned.'

He kissed her forehead and fled.

Heath's disappearance was a mystery. Where a body had lain in the dark only mist seeped through the glass house as the solitary, crying girl was dragged forcibly back to Hareton Hall and then packed off to Switzerland.

The streets of Soho had been very cold at one am - summer, winter or any other season. It had been two days since he had been shot during his transition (and revived). When he fled Hampstead, after Kate was dragged from him, after she'd whispered the time and date of their wedding, he was speechless. Intent on survival, he disappeared into the Hampstead mist. Heath gorged himself on squirrels and hoped it would tide him over until he could get in to see his specialist, Dr Vincent.

Driving back to The Hall, Harrison was sure he'd seen the last of Heath. Although he suspected a vampire variation, he was sure he'd imagined, in his near drunken stupor, the events that had occurred in the early hours of that morning. It was, of course, Heath's eighteenth birthday. As midnight bells rang out, Heath was becoming immortal, shy of sunlight, wary of mirrors and gradually non-existent in photographs. Fearful of dawn and what he might do, the rest would evolve instinctively, over time. He would forge his own path.

After Kate was sent kicking and screaming to Switzerland, Heath's fees were withdrawn as Harrison had promised and the school was notified that Heath would not be returning.

Meanwhile, Heath's friends from Scotland were in school and he had no local acquaintances in Hampstead or the surrounding boroughs and even if he did, he wanted to get as far away from what he remembered of his childhood, as he could. He had the small amount of money he'd saved from running his school fixtures racket (and winning), as well as the cash Kate had placed in her letter.

'I do remember that,' Greta laughed and then let the story continue as if telling itself…

Heath had a small amount of cash plus the money Harrison had given him "what remained of his father's wish", as a "do not return gift" - one hundred pounds – an insult. It was a great deal less than he'd actually been owed; and none of the legacy left to him by his adopted father.

Heath used the money for supplies. He then spent the second night after riding the tube and sleeping rough in St James Park, in a backpacker's hostel near the West End. He now had real empathy for the homeless and resolved that when he became rich and powerful he would help those less fortunate.

As Heath was transitioning, his body was changing inside, but he never gave up hope that he would land on his feet. He was almost glad to be free of Harrison and The Hall but it was Kate's promise of love that kept him going through those cold, desperate nights.

On the third morning he emptied his pockets and realised just how short of cash he would be, once he'd put down a payment on a room for the week. He went to stay with the older brother of one of his school team mates but it soon became clear after a few nights that he couldn't hide his needs from that family and he'd outstayed his welcome. He slept in the park again but it was freezing. The humanity left in him ensured he still felt very cold.

By now, he'd managed to see his specialist, who'd commiserated with him and congratulated him on his eighteenth birthday. The tests showed a major change in his chemical make-up and it would take a few days for his medication to settle his imbalance. Heath still saw his own reflection in the mirror, still ate food and continued to try to live as normal a life as possible. He slept in more than he used to, the craving for human blood was stronger. The promise of Kate was enough, and all he survived for.

Heath was sufficiently recovered from the first step in his transformation. He'd experienced all of the symptoms: major light sensitivity, pain raging through his veins so badly that he curled up under a tree in St James Park and whimpered in daylight, cravings, chills and sweats. He found a tiny bedsit room in Soho. It wasn't long before he discovered, along with the bad side-effects of transition, that he'd developed the power to move quicker and think faster. He could literally see a massive series of complex numbers and add them up to get the correct result. His mathematics skills had always been excellent but now they were computer-like in their accuracy.

Heath resolved to find a job, perhaps two. He could always work in a restaurant, and then look for something else that would utilize his other skills.

He'd always been good at mathematics at school but now his mind worked like a computer. He thought working in a bank might be a good direction to take. He would apply for an entry level job that required no formal qualifications. First, he needed some fast cash since he'd nearly used up all he had. London was a huge place and although young and now partially a vampire, he did not allow this to deter him. Heath went to a hotel and merged so quickly through the lobby that they didn't notice his trip to the men's room. He used the shower and towels and cleaned himself up. He went outside and walked towards Piccadilly via Regent Street and into Soho, leaving his name at various cafes and pubs along the way.

Although he had no experience, someone was sure to need a kitchen hand. As long as the fumes from the cooking didn't get the best of him, he thought he might actually enjoy working with food. He realised, at least for the moment, night work would be best.

The first time he'd walked out in broad daylight (and London was mostly overcast, even in summer), his skin crackled, far worse than it had when he was a child. Then, he realised he'd forgotten to wear his medallion. He placed it around his neck after that, never taking it off, realising it contained the power to help him live a relatively normal life.

After he'd secured a job in a café, he applied for a job as office cleaner in one of the huge banks in the City. It wasn't much but both jobs gave Heath hope.

Meanwhile, he studied the stock market, hoping to one day make enough money to put a deposit on a flat. In those weeks, applying to finish school by correspondence, (something Heath once planned to do), went by the wayside.

It was during this transition phase in his life that he turned a corner one day and walked straight into Annabelle Hunt, rugged up in a cherry red overcoat exiting the building where her Soho art class was held. Displaying a previously unrecognised knack for rebellion, Annabelle had insisted on attending day school in London so she could go to Art classes at college in the evening. Her family had relented because Annabelle had so rarely been passionate about anything (apart from Heath) in her young life. As the girl had turned eighteen she had some say in the matter.

'Anyway,' Annabelle said, 'school was so lame once you and Kate were gone. There was no one interesting to talk to at all, except my brother, and he's hardly exciting.' Annabelle added in a rare display of personality as they sat together in the student coffee shop where Annabelle had insisted on dragging Heath.

Heath nodded. 'Ah, something we both agree on,' he added sarcastically.

Annabelle smiled self-consciously.

Heath had been resistant to sit with her at first, but strangely, seeing Annabelle reminded him of Kate, and talking to her was like old times.

'You look so different,' Annabelle said, peering into his eyes. Heath looked away.

'I have her address, you know,' Annabelle added as she stuffed her contact details into Heath's palm and kissed him on both cheeks in her European way. Heath agreed to stay in touch and that is how Annabelle became Heath's unlikely ally.

In his spare moments, Heath studied the stock markets. He learned a lot from the discarded ledgers thrown in the waste paper baskets he emptied at the firm where he worked on week nights.

After working in a pub during the day, he managed to put a deposit on a tiny bedsit. The plan was to save enough money to finish school at a Sixth Form College the following term then fill out his university entrance forms for the next year.

Annabelle had contact with Kate through mutual school friends and reconnected with Heath to let him know she would be delivering the cards and letters Kate posted to him, care of her. These postcards would have gone "missing" if they'd been posted from Switzerland because Kate was not allowed to send mail to anyone that Harrison, her guardian, hadn't agreed to. The "society" Hunts, were on his list.

Surprisingly, Annabelle had agreed to act as a go-between for the lovers. Heath hoped Kate would go to university with him. Although he knew she had her heart set on Art School in Florence, London was 'a better option' she had written, 'considering their finances.' Heath smiled when he read her note, as Annabelle looked on pensively. She quite liked playing the go-between. It suited her surprisingly humble nature, Heath thought, underestimating her, not for the first time. He knew Kate would be making the best of a presumably bad situation in Switzerland and he worked away the days before he'd get the chance to see her again. They re-confirmed the date of their rendezvous in their letters.

Sleeping rough in St James, hunting squirrels for food - those days were a distant memory - yet hard living had almost suited him.

He was young, verging on immortal. He could easily stay out all night and work all day but he rarely spoke to other people nor was he interested in other girls. He'd taken Kate's red scarf; she'd left it in the stables in a rush, and now Heath kept it in his pocket. The wool was warm and smelt of her perfume.

His own bedsit, although grungy, was like a palace to Heath after the turmoil of Hareton Hall. In preparation for Kate's visit, Annabelle had insisted on buying lengths of material and decorating the windows. Occasionally, she wondered what it would have been like had Heath returned her infatuation at school but her new boyfriend, Toby, was good for her. He was also studying Art History. She knew she was in a better place with a man who could reciprocate her feelings. It was enough, she thought, just to be near Heath but Annabelle did not underestimate how important his new friendship was to her.

Heath was excited as the day drew nearer. He walked past the place Kate had arranged to meet him many times that week. On the second occasion he was sure he'd seen her, but then the girl turned around and her eyes were nothing like those of the woman he loved. Kate had promised him. Kate would be there. Promises were everything. A promise was all they had. The walls of his room were pasted with the old-fashioned post cards Kate had sent him every day for a week.

Through all of this, Annabelle had been the conduit. A secretive message relayed from a secret meeting in St James Park. She had even tried to stuff money in Heath's pocket while he waited for his first pay cheque. It was enough to give Heath and Kate hope since neither of them had telephones and the internet was barely in use.

The sun shone in London as Heath waited for Kate and their reunion drew near. He'd been holding down two jobs and with a roof over his head, was filled with hope for the future.

**Chapter Nineteen**

_**Promises**_

Meanwhile, Kate was unreasonably cold in the Alps.

Her roommates were chattering away by the fire, three to a room. They'd only known each other for a few months but already they were friendly, Kate thought, especially after she'd shown them the picture of her and Heath. On cold afternoons after deportment class and flower arranging and French cooking and "How to Entertain Diplomats" or "How to Behave When Greeting the Royal Family" tutorials were over, the girls socialized.

They turned their iron upside down, pulled out the small milk pan they hoarded for this very occasion, and made hot chocolates by pouring milk into the pan and sitting the pan on the underside of the iron to heat the milk. Their drinks were laced with the cream and marsh mellows they bought in the tiny convenience store in town. The girls sipped hot chocolate as they talked. The topic of discussion was usually Kate, Heath and their "everlasting love".

One of Kate's roommates, Tracey, was from California. She spoke in an accent Kate loved and made LA seem like a place Kate would definitely like to go one day. Daisy, the shorter one with dark hair, was from London.

'Oh, he's really cute,' Daisy said.

'Yes, he's hot. I would…definitely,' Trace replied with a wicked smile.

Kate smiled. 'Well, neither of you can have him, he's all mine,' Kate said, snatching the photograph, knowing she'd probably never have the pleasure of another image now that Heath was in the process of transition.

'Are you sure?' Tracey asked mischievously. 'All alone in London after your brother treated him so…scandalously?'

'Yes, it really was terrible to throw the _foster _child…out like that,' Daisy added. 'My mother would never treat a foundling that way. It just looks really bad to the outside world…'

Kate had told them the whole story (well, the parts she could repeat – nothing about Heath's transition) but they somehow always got the details wrong.

'Heath is so hot,' Daisy said, glancing at the photograph of Kate and Heath taken just days before they ran away from Hareton Hall. Kate looked at the picture nostalgically.

'Gosh your house sounds so romantic, tucked away opposite a frozen park…' Daisy added.

Kate unfolded the letter she had received from Heath by way of Annabelle and re-read it as she stirred the milk pan, making sure a plastic skin didn't form.

'Only one more week,' she thought '…before I'm free of this place forever.'

The girls had been sworn to secrecy and Kate had worked out the route she would take from the school, down to the convenience store across the sleet road to the bus stop, down the mountain road to the train station, through the tunnel in the mountain…across the channel then on to London.

The café was in Dean Street. From the corner table you could see the cobbled pathway that led towards Covent Garden. Art students and opera singers busked there in the hub of shops and cafes and people.

It had been a long three months and in that time Heath and Kate had communicated using letters and postcards.

In the pre-internet nineties, Kate and Heath needed Annabelle as their intermediary.

The cards and letters Kate wrote Heath during their enforced separation lined the wall of the tiny room he'd taken. They began to arrive less than a week after Heath and Kate separated. Kate found a local bakery near the school where she walked to in her lunch hours and religiously posted a card to Heath using Annabelle's address. Sometimes at night after Heath had eaten food brought home with him from the pub (always some kind of red meat or chicken), he fell asleep reading the names of the cards on the wall.

The words: _holiday, skiing_ and _Switzerland_ became a kind of pattern in his mind; a pathway out of the daily grind he told himself was only temporary. He recognised a stronger desire for blood (and always the desire for revenge on Harrison) the closer he got to midnight.

His love for Kate tempered him. He was sure it made him a better person to know he had to be the best he could, for her. He resisted the evils lurking in St James. Daily, he was tempted by the homeless people on the street, the women in expensive coats, business men in even more expensive suits. Their veins pulsed at him like light if he was even a few minutes late taking his medication. He'd explained all of this to Kate in a letter; the one in ten thousand chance he'd had of being born a hybrid, then turning into a vampire; how his biological father must have carried the gene but not necessarily suffered from its affliction.

The night he was due to see Kate, Annabelle and some of her Art School friends took Heath out to celebrate the fact that he had applied and been accepted into a training program at the firm where he cleaned. His brilliance with numbers and ability to stay up all night studying ensured him the highest marks in the exam. They went to a restaurant in the centre of town where Annabelle, who had pretty much given up on Heath as anything but a friend, had arranged a surprise for Heath. Kate's arrival was not supposed to be until the next day, Saturday, but she'd managed to "escape" early, as she put it.

Kate waited for Heath expectantly. She wore a scarlet coat and a matching scarf and her hair was swept up in a winter woollen cap, making her appear sophisticated beyond her years. Annabelle arrived with a group of friends from Art School and headed to the reserved table.

'Kate! It's so wonderful to see you. I cannot believe you are back in London for good! Don't worry; everyone thinks you are staying with me. They won't notice you've gone missing until Tuesday - plenty of time for you and Heath…'

'I can't thank you enough, Annabelle.' Kate said.

'Well,' Annabelle replied, 'I hope we can be friends now, as we were always meant to be.' Annabelle glanced over at the handsome Art School student she was dating and Kate realised Annabelle was finally over Heath. Maybe it was true they could at last be friendly. Without her cover, she would never have been able to escape the day before her birthday.

'Thank you so much for being such a true friend to me Annabelle.'

'Not at all, it's about time Harrison got some of his own medicine. I've always liked Heath… as you know, but let's face it, he only ever had eyes for you,' Anne added.

When Heath arrived, expecting to see Annabelle and her other friends (who were now his friends) he was completely floored.

'Kate! You changed your mind and arrived early!' he said as she shyly kissed him on both cheeks.

'I wish. Tomorrow,' she whispered in his ear, 'I'm yours forever.'

Kate flung her arms around him and together they sat with the group while they all decided where to go for dinner. Something cheap but cheerful in Soho was the general consensus. Heath chatted excitedly about his new job opportunity and Kate told him about her plans to enrol in Art College with Annabelle.

Kate leaned in toward Heath and took his hand under the table. 'I don't care what happens now as long as I'm with you,' she said. 'Finishing School was a nightmare.'

Heath smiled back with his eyes and whispered to her, 'I love you.' He had invested his stock market winnings and had managed to double the money in a month. It was enough for them to have their deposit on a flat.

'The room in Covent Garden, it's tiny, it's not much, but soon I'll be making so much money. In a few years you'll be able to choose the finest house in London - or, who knows, we could move to America. I've always wanted to go there.'

They talked this way all night, making plans for their future. They couldn't tell anyone about their plans for the next morning, not even Annabelle. It was too risky to involve others. They intended to stay up all night until their wedding day which would be the following morning.

'New York is supposed to be brilliant,' Kate said as she ate the salad off her plate and passed Heath the chicken.  
'It is for artists,' Toby said. Kate was keen to meet Toby, Annabelle's boyfriend. Belle had been secretly seeing him for months. It was the reason for her move to London. Annabelle's father didn't approve of her dating an artist. In defiance Annabelle had run away from home. Her father had not dared to cut her off financially though, as Heath and Kate had been. Annabelle was in love (for the second time, Kate thought with a smile). Belle's new passion finally took the heat off Heath, although he'd obviously grown to like Annabelle. They'd made better friends than he'd anticipated. Unexpectedly, Annabelle dragged Toby up off his seat and they began to dance to some random eighties song together.

Kate leant in, 'Wow Art School has certainly changed Annabelle …"

Heath replied, 'For the better, I'd say. By the way, how long before they notice you're missing and phone the authorities?'

Kate said, 'You mean Harrison …'

'Yes.'

'Well, they think I'm staying with Annabelle until Tuesday. By tomorrow, I'll be eighteen and they won't have any say in the matter.'

Kate leant in and Heath kissed her, the strobe lighting played tricks with their shadows as he whispered, 'I'm under control. I just thought you should know. I've been to the specialist and he says I may not devolve any further as long as I stay on my…'

Kate put her finger to his lips, 'We love each other. That is all that matters.'

At midnight, Heath replayed those words many times in his head. He could see Kate's expectant face as Annabelle and Toby wandered off to another club. Heath and Kate hailed a taxi.

'I want you so much,' Kate whispered to Heath in the back of the London cab.

'Me too, but we should wait until morning.'

'What do you mean?' Kate smiled.

'By morning, the transition for me will be almost complete. My specialist told me the first phase takes three months, unless there is a relapse. I've been taking my medication now for almost three months and I'm… stable. I won't be tempted to…drain you…' Heath then looked away as he said this and pulled out of his jacket the ring he'd been carrying in his pocket since his first pay cheque. He'd lived on nothing and saved every cent to buy Kate the style of ring that he thought she deserved. The diamond was larger and more expensive than a young man in his position would have been able to afford, but it was a token of his trust in their future and his faith in Kate's complete love. The diamond shone.

'Oh, Heath, it's beautiful.'

Kate slipped it on her finger.

'Happy birthday Kate.'

'It fits perfectly,' Kate said as she slid her arms around Heath's broad shoulders and kissed him passionately.

'Oh, we need to do this properly,' Kate whispered, coming up for breath.

'Driver, pull over please,' Heath said.

The cab pulled up on the curb near the well-heeled part of Kensington where the shops were freshly painted.

Heath asked the driver to wait, while he opened the door and helped Kate out.

In the street lights, Kate walked with Heath towards a clothing shop.

'Wait outside,' she warned, 'I had access to some money for the ski trip I'm meant to go on. I ordered something from this store in Switzerland. The store had it packed up and sent to the London shop. You're not allowed to see it yet.'

Kate returned with a large bag. Inside was her wedding dress. It had been packaged up for her collection, all arranged weeks ago.

Before she could add anything in words, Heath kissed her.

'Kate, you have made me the happiest person in London.'

'And you have made me the happiest woman in the world, in the universe,' Kate said. It was first light as they drove towards the tiny church in Chelsea; Kate recalled scrawling the words _Katherine & Heath own the universe…_all over her school texts when she was younger. Soon those words would be a reality. Kate knew they belonged together - her dream was coming true.

It was freezing; flakes of snow began to fall from the sky as they walked up the steps. Kate emerged from a side room dressed in her cream lace vintage gown. Heath was talking with the vicar. They'd bought flowers from a street seller on the way and Kate held a large bouquet of tulips.

Together they said their traditional vows and both embraced on their promise. Kate shivered as they kissed.

They exchanged words of thanks with the vicar who remarked on their youth. After the promise of their love, they signed the registry.

Outside as they hailed a cab, Kate and Heath kissed again with an intensity that made people on the footpath stare.

Heath smiled, filled with love for his beautiful new wife. He had wanted her from the first moment they had kissed, yet they had waited to be free. They reached for each other in the back seat of the London cab as they headed towards Soho. Heath had spent his whole pay cheque on a suite at the best hotel in Covent Garden. The exquisite room with the Queen sized double bed and fresh sheets was strewn with the petals of Kate's favourite flowers as Heath carried his young wife over the threshold. For the first time in months, as they kissed passionately and undid the buttons on lace and silk, their lives seemed rich with possibility.

The afternoon had been perfect. The transitions occurred in the shadows, in the early hours, as Kate lay sleeping. She woke and hugged Heath to her, nursing him through his night terrors, checking they had all the necessary supplies of Type A, plasma, elixir, medication. The final part of the six-month process was the worst, they'd been told. Kate soothed Heath as he fell back into a trancelike sleep.

In the early morning, a knock at the door woke Heath. Kate had risen earlier and was using the hair dryer. A messenger delivered a note addressed to Heath who read it quickly.

'I'm just going outside for a moment,' he said through the gap in the bathroom door.

'Uh, okay,' she called out to him. Silence was the response.

Kate wrapped her dressing gown around her and padded into the room with wet feet. She searched the hallway of the hotel; nothing. It worried her that the messenger and Heath had disappeared into dawn.

Heath had hastily scribbled a note for her and left it on the bed.

**Forget me until I find you. Wait for me, I'll return. I'm sorry H.**

Kate was shocked. It couldn't be Heath's writing, but it was. Kate dropped the note on the floor, pulled on her clothes hastily and ran out onto the street, bare foot, to look for him. After an hour on the street, searching through the crowds, it was hopeless. Her feet, bloodied and bruised, were the least of her troubles. Heath had disappeared into thin air. All Kate had left was the memory of the first night they'd spent together, blissfully entwined in each other's arms.

**Chapter Twenty**

**London**

_**Three Years Later **_

Heath was walking home from work after he'd been photographed for the cover of New Business Magazine. The journalist was writing about Financial Whizz Kids – the title chosen for the article. Heath tried to remain himself but the art director had insisted on having his hair messed, his tie skewed and his jacket open, giving him the appearance of a rock star and making him more famous amongst his colleagues in a week than he had been in a year. Women he'd never met messaged him. Heath told them he was married and most of them stopped. He was too young to be married but then he explained he'd met his wife when they were teenagers and they just raised their eyebrows.

Soho on Friday night was lit up with music and lights, like a buzzing carnival act. The West End was busy every night of the week. Heath had been working in the City making more money in his first year as a stock trader than he'd dreamt possible. Through extreme luck and, some might say, mathematical genius, financial fortune came his way. He was a mystery to his co-workers, but Heath knew the truth; that he never slept, that he was able to do in one day what took others a week; he could stay awake and trade in every time zone.

After trawling the usual after-work bars with work colleagues (referred to euphemistically as "friends"), Heath often ended up near his home in Chelsea at a small cafe, drinking elixir from a flask and checking the Asian markets as he waited for his supper of rare roasted lamb, occasionally fish, sometimes chicken – always protein. He usually arrived at his house in the early hours of the morning and was up again and seated at his desk by six in the morning.

He was aware that more than a decade of living this lifestyle would take its toll on his family, yet he existed in the moment. Money markets and stockbroking firms were where traders like him could make a huge profit and get out by the time they hit thirty, which gave him about nine years until burn out. And then some, because he'd been warned now, he wouldn't appear to age more than twenty-six years. He had made a full transition, immortality beckoned. He loved the feeling money and this new vampirical power gave him. It had taken him less than a year to turn his life around and he couldn't help but congratulate himself on his good fortune. He never had any doubt that he was as good as anyone else, as capable as any person.

Heath stayed out late to avoid going home. It was true their house was envied in a street full of beautiful homes and families, but it was all surface. To the outside world, they seemed so perfect. Still, he knew he'd made this "fast money" by doing things he never dreamt he'd do – marrying into wealth, identifying the weaknesses of other men and preying on them. As he made money, others lost it.

When the waiter brought the tall, striking young man in the dark suit another coffee as he'd requested, Heath remembered the request from his wife. She had asked him to bring groceries home - milk, bread, mundane things, nothing special. The message had been given to him in his office six hours ago. She's added love and kisses as she always did, revealing her true self with each forgotten word. It had all become a bit old to Heath. He flinched when he recalled the embarrassing note.

Familiar music played in the café; a beautiful song, sung by a band Kate had liked, all about the perfection of a day. For evening, it couldn't have been a more inappropriate song. Nevertheless, the music played as Heath drank his coffee and went over the business transactions on his laptop as the wait staff began to clear up and wonder when the last customer would leave.

The words of the song played over and over in his mind.

Heath sighed, wondering why Kate always came back to him when he was alone. He wished she could be erased from his memory, forever. Any good psychologist would tell him he was better off without her. Heath finished his drink, and then went to the street to hail a cab. Of course, he wasn't far from the bedsit they'd shared briefly after they'd married. The West End was filled with his memory of her.

Meanwhile, Kate was at home at The Grange wondering how it had all gone so wrong. She sat in the window seat in the moonlight, doing some sketches under a lamp for the theatre design she was drafting. The drawings were a welcome distraction from her personal life and she'd grown to enjoy the drawing and planning along with the productions she worked on at the theatre with Annabelle; at twenty-one, she felt old.

_**Two years previously**_

Kate gave birth to a girl, Katarina.

The baby's birth was premature, yet she survived. Kate and the baby's nanny were waving toys above Katarina's crib in the nursery at The Grange, six months later. It was a lighter, airier room than the one at Hareton Hall, decorated with pink curtains at Annabelle's insistence. There was a familiarity at The Grange which led to a certain type of contentment as Kate soothed her baby. Just as she was about to sing Katarina her favourite lullaby, Annabelle ran breathlessly into the room.

'Kate, I have to tell you something,' Belle whispered. 'The detective contacted me this morning; he's discovered money being deposited into Heath's bank account; they traced it to New York. Heath's been living over there.'

Kate was silent.

'Don't you see what that means, Kate?' she whispered. 'He's alive! We thought the worst when his bank account hadn't been touched.'

'Yes,' Kate said. 'I felt he was alive. What am I supposed to say? He abandoned me.' She turned and walked purposefully up the stairs. The wild haired girl she had once been was prematurely replaced by a grown up wife. Kate looked at herself in the mirror as she dressed in her old jeans, red sweater and expensive winter coat. All she saw in the reflection was a miserable young woman, a terrible mistake. What choice did she have? Kate had wanted a father for her child.

Months of wondering and searching for Heath who was untraceable had been hard on her. The man she loved had proved himself worse than unreliable. She knew she should be forgiving as Annabelle would no doubt be, yet she found it difficult to smile. If Heath did return, he was sure to be angry.

'He'll come to visit you, I know he will,' Annabelle said as she walked into Kate's room.

Kate just looked at her, barely smiling. They walked downstairs.

'Well it won't do much good now, will it? I'm going to see what Greta has made for lunch.' Kate glanced briefly at the parcel Annabelle had left for her on the dining room table.

'These are the photographs I took,' Annabelle added.

Annabelle had taken photography as one of her core subjects at Art College. She had a job as a gallery assistant in a Soho studio. Her photographs were artistically lit but practically framed, perfect for advertising a production such as the one Kate was now co-designing in the West End.

Kate's passion for painting had not subsided. She'd also completed a theatre design course and her sketches were much in demand. Motherhood, and the beginnings of her artistic career, had gone part way to rectifying the monotony of her days. Katarina and painting made her focus on the future.

That week, Harrison, his wife Frances and her young brother Hinton, had gone to Ireland to visit the premises of a new company. Edmund Hunt, Kate's husband, was spending the day at his office in the City. Kate had agreed to house sit at Hareton Hall that night with the baby and her nanny, but only to satisfy her sister-in-law's wishes.

Kate was working on one of her final designs for the play due to open the following month, and feeding Katarina, when she rushed up to the kitchen and hung her head over the sink. Though her stomach was flat, she felt unsettled and nauseated, again. The thought of bringing a new life into her world was quite shocking although she knew Edmund would be happy about it. Kate put the symptoms of pregnancy out of her mind. After Katarina and her nanny were settled upstairs, Kate decided to explore.

It was strange to pad around Hareton Hall in bare feet and her dressing gown for the first time in years. The memories were provoking a strong reaction in her.

The mansion was quiet but it still felt more like home than The Grange. She felt the absence of Heath and her father, everywhere she wandered. The usual staff had Sunday afternoon off, including Greta. Kate had turned all the chandelier lights on (the electricity bill was sure to annoy Harrison) and turned the downstairs music up. She wasn't that far away from being a teenager even though she was now a mother; she felt like softly dancing the roof off, if only to forget how much of a mess she'd made of everything.

When she finished moving to the music, she decided to explore the upper floors. She peeked into the playroom where Katarina was soundly asleep. The nanny, whom Edmund had insisted on employing (she had raised both him and Annabelle), was knitting a cardigan in the comfortable arm chair and placed her fingers to her lips. Kate quietly shut the door. Although the nanny was brilliant, Kate sometimes thought the woman considered her too young to be an adequate mother.

Wandering alone through the top floors, she was surprised to find her former bedroom was similar to the way she had left it. Her school mementos had been placed in boxes high in the cupboard and labelled in Franny's neat, clear, handwriting. Photographs from every year of her childhood and adolescence, as well as old videos, were stacked side by side.

It was kind of Frances not to have thrown them out, Kate thought. Previously, she'd had little to do with her sister-in-law though they now lived ten minutes apart. There was even a box of old school uniforms. Kate took out her blue blazer with red piping around the edges, the one she'd worn to boarding school in Scotland. Then she pulled a large, woven basket towards her. She intended to have a huge throw out, to leave the past behind her once and for all.

Cleaning up was busy work and mid-morning; half way through throwing out her old clothes, Kate became bored. She checked on Katarina, kissed her precious face, fed her, and then considered her clothing options. Kate dragged her old riding clothes from her wardrobe and pulled on high, polished black boots that matched her long, curly dark hair. Kate twisted her curls into a loose bun and grabbed her coat. It was true that Harrison had maintained the house but it was sure to be chaotic again soon with the imminent return of the rambunctious yet adorable Hinton.

On occasion she had found Hinton, a few years older than Katarina, standing by her cot and attempting to hold hands with the baby or teach her words she didn't know. He was a very protective, sweet natured child, although Kate constantly worried for his future in the care of Harrison. Yet Hinton's good nature seemed to bring out the best in everyone around him, including her brother.

Thirsty, she stomped to the kitchen, aware of her noisy feet on the polished floors. The music had stopped and the place was almost eerie. Kate missed her father, but not enough to live in the house that held the memory of him, Heath and of their shared childhood. Kate poured herself a large glass of water and drank it quickly. Almost as quickly, she grabbed her scarf and went outside to the stables, pulling the door shut behind her. The wind, which was rising across the Heath in the distance, along the walking tracks and riding trails, was harsh. Her lips were red and her cheeks flushed with cold and exercise.

Kate patted, brushed and saddled her horse but she decided to walk alongside Hero through the park trail. It was not a great day for riding in her possible condition. Although it started out sunny, it became cool, windy and overcast. Kate knew exactly where to find shelter when the storm that had earlier threatened to interrupt her afternoon, finally arrived, after she'd been walking Hero for half an hour. Kate removed her wedding ring, the one that rubbed on her finger with the reigns and placed it in her pocket. She wore her first one around her neck, close to her heart.

**Chapter Twenty-one**

_**Revenge**_

Hampstead Heath had a thin film of lavender mist hanging over it during winter as she headed for the Glass House. There were very few people in the meadow at this hour of the day. Kate was invigorated from the cool air in a way she wouldn't have been had she stayed inside. Her usual routine - a light lunch, nurse Katarina, read or do some yoga - before wading through the play script that lay in wait for her had been replaced by her ramble. She had more ideas about the design of the play she was working on and had brought paper with her to sketch the arboretum. The garden was the central motif in the play and she wanted to take another look at the architecture.

Kate tied her horse up and got him some water. As she did this, a familiar horse rode towards her, or maybe she just thought his markings were familiar. As she looked closer through the clearing, it was the rider she recognised. He was slightly older, leaner, yet unmistakably the man who had filled her every waking dream and now her nightmares.

Heath alighted from his horse in the easy manner of a country squire.

Kate looked over at him. Even from a distance, she could hardly believe he was real.

He walked towards her, slowly, with purpose.

Before they spoke she reached over when he paused to touch his face as if to ask the vision before her if he even existed.

'Heath?' She whispered.

'Yes,' he replied. 'It's me.'

'But…you've been gone…for three years. I tried to find you. What happened? How did you come to be here?'

'Perhaps I should be the one asking questions. I saw your marriage notice in the paper not long after we parted.'

Kate was silent for a moment.

'You left me,' she said.

Heath's face displayed a knowing, hardened expression with more than a twinge of anger.

'I am staying at the pub. I have business with Harrison in relation to Hareton Hall. I went around looking for him but there was no one at home. I saw your car in the driveway and I didn't think you'd be far. The horses were there - all except Hero. One of them was practically biting his way out of the stable, so I thought I'd take him out. He seems to remember me.'

Heath patted the animal and went to tie the reigns.

'Business… with Harrison?'

'Yes. Greta told me you'd be here. You might be interested to know that I am soon to be the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

'How?'

'Harrison mortgaged it to my company; he lost his money gambling. The house was going cheap and I put a down payment on it. I officially own it as of…about three minutes ago. '

Heath smiled. Kate knew she didn't have the full details of the matter but suddenly realized how good he must feel.

She visibly shivered as Heath took her gloved hand in his.

'I am to be your new neighbour Mrs Hunt.'

Kate sighed, never having doubted, in the faint possibility if he ever revealed himself to her again, Heath would one day be the stronger of them.

'And what of Harrison?'

'Oh, he can remain in the guest cottage until he's found another place to stay. It's all arranged.'

Together they walked in breathless silence towards the glass house where they had met as children. There were overgrown hothouse flowers and benches and comfortable chairs for lovers. The chairs had been unused all winter until Kate and Heath rested upon them, side by side. Again they sat in silence for what seemed the longest stretch of time. Actually it was only a few minutes.

Both former lovers were angry. Kate was almost speechless.

'Did you read the note I left?'

'Yes, you said you'd find me,' Kate replied softly. 'It wasn't enough. All those legal terms…none of them true.'

'I needed proof. Harrison told me we shared the same biological father…' He showed Kate the note.

_Forget your unnatural desires, _it read_. Apart from the fact that you are a monster there are few grounds for an annulment and marrying a close relative is one of them. I tried to keep you both apart for a reason. Kate is your half-sister. Mother left because she knew! That's what they were fighting about that night, more than ten years ago. I heard them! You are father's biological child. He said so himself…Do Kate a favour and leave her. I'll arrange an annulment at this end. We'll tell her you changed your mind. I'm sure she'll understand once she knows the truth. I tried to warn you. Thank me later, Harrison._

Kate shook her head after she read it.

'I am not surprise. Harrison told me of the supposed connection. I suspected he was lying.'

Heath was silent. Kate tore the letter up.

'Later, after I married Edmund he admitted it was another of his lies, designed to tear us apart - only this one worked,' Kate said regretfully.

Heath noticed Kate's scarlet riding jacket. It contrasted with her black riding boots and reminded him of blood. The colours suited her well. Blood reminded him of betrayal.

He would never admit that he envied her marriage and longed for revenge upon her family that went further than just the ownership of Hareton Hall. In any case, Kate must have expected the foreclosure on her childhood home since there had been talk all over town for months that Harrison was going broke and had dragged the family name into disrepute. Then he remembered that it was likely Kate barely knew anything. She rarely spoke to her brother.

'What have we done Heath?' she said after a long silence.

He could see her breath, cold in the air and longed more than ever to do what he'd always resisted doing; to do what he'd done in the endless nights of travel, parks and animal blood. Then, after he had money, there had been the empty living of hotel suites, women and elixir to help drown his misery. It had taken him months to trace his mother, to find out the truth. The specialist had told him he could be fairly sure Harrison's allegation was untrue but for total confirmation he'd have to locate his biological mother and trace some evidence of his biological father. It had all taken so much longer than he'd expected, several weeks. He'd been in virtual limbo in the meantime, not wanting to burden Kate with his misery after he'd tried to find her. He'd seen her through the windows of The Grange that night, looking so content.

He felt more empowered inside than ever since he'd allowed his true nature to emerge. Once he'd stopped worrying about Kate's thoughts he could begin to live the life he was born to live. He looked at her again, the veins in her wrist and neck, thumping, tormenting him.

Her hand moved to his and she looked at him pleadingly. In that moment, he was sure he hated her unfairly. The glimpse of the wedding ring near her neck convinced him he was right. His plan for vengeance had stirred in him ever since he'd seen Edmund kissing Kate in the window seat that night. Weeks after Heath and Kate married; Heath's transition phase began to stabilize. He wanted her back.

Kate looked at him accusingly.

'How can you look at me like that? You married another. You didn't wait as I asked you to. Harrison had drained the family funds and I now see what a good idea it was for you to marry richly and quickly and…to that spoilt brat Hunt. I see how easily an annulment was arranged, given the feigned reasoning that we were biologically…related. I can't believe you actually went through with the new marriage. Of course, it all makes perfect sense, given the way you were raised and your brother's distorted value system…'

'In my defence, there was a good reason. You abandoned me. Harrison finally admitted it wasn't true but by then I couldn't…locate you.'

'I came to find you, weeks later, after I'd made sure…everything was as it needed to be.'

'I was dragged to Verbier to recover from my broken heart. I had a skiing accident. I was unconscious for three days! I couldn't get a message to you. I looked for you everywhere. I tried to find you but you had…disappeared. I waited for you… long enough. You had simply, vanished. It was…logical for me to…marry Edmund, I had no choice…I never believed you would ever come back to me. Not after the note Harrison wrote.'

'I said I would return. Love is not logical Kate. I'm sure your mother taught you that…' He coughed into the sleeve of his jacket as he said this. Kate was alarmed by his thinness and pallor. He looked hungry.

'You are so cruel Heath. You know my mother taught me very little except how to leave.' The woman stood, but she did not move away from him. Just being near him gave her strength and courage. The scent of Kate's perfume was an elixir to Heath, as magical as her blood which he longed to drink. He moved closer.

'Stay,' Heath said. 'Please stay. No piece of paper should separate us.' He took her gloved hand, looking desperate for the first time and slumped into her shoulder. 'Please, get me my…drink. It's in the saddle bag.'

Kate got up and grabbed a flask, taking off the top and poured Heath some amber liquid.

'How is your…condition?'

Heath took a sip and looked at her as if he might eat her.

'Manageable.'

He'd torn the leg off a turkey and eaten it before he'd come to find her. At least the leg was cooked. He hadn't stooped to raw meat yet, unless it was a fresh animal kill.

By then, from the look on her face, Heath knew he had gone too far. Kate, like him, had had very little parental guidance. The girl turned on him as he regained his strength, lashing out…

'You don't know everything…you don't know anything! You went missing after our wedding, remember? I thought you'd abandoned me or worse, that you were dead! What did you expect?'

'I… I didn't want to hurt you with the truth about our family… what I've since learnt was false. I went for a walk to clear my head but the transition caused me to collapse in a gutter. I woke up three days later in a police station…'

'You should have known…Harrison would do anything to separate us.'

Kate looked away.

'I know… for that I owe you an apology.' Heath said. 'Harrison's lie was a shock to say the least. Something I wanted to spare you. To do that, I needed the truth. I needed to find my…birth mother.'

He did not wish to elaborate upon the murkier details of the conversation he'd had when Harrison had inferred Kate was a blood relation.

Kate looked away, 'I know,' was all she said.

'When I had proof, I contacted Greta. She begged me not to make trouble but I had to find you anyway. Then I learnt you'd gone skiing…with the Hunts.'

'You had disappeared. Annabelle offered comfort and support…'

'Yes, I know, and her brother…' Heath said sarcastically, 'You've always been perfectly capable of impressing your…admirers, Kate. I hear you are the talk of the theatre world, young designer of the season, your drawings and paintings nominated for an award…'

'Oh, you never cared about me having a career…how dare you joke about it now! We both know all that seems meaningless in relation to…all of this.'

Heath turned and held Kate by the shoulders, 'You're right, I never did care about _your career_ as you put it, because all I wanted was you…'

'And you had me…'

Heath laughed sardonically.

Kate continued '… You were the one who went missing, _remember_.'

'Yes and now look at you, married to someone else with barely three months between us. Harrison must have really pulled strings to have the annulment rushed through.'

Kate looked away.

'The paperwork was destroyed. It was all hushed up. No one except the family knew we were even married.'

**Chapter Twenty-two **

_**Reunion **_

He was tempted to twist her arm with more than a little bit of force. Tempted to kiss her wrist, plunge his teeth into it, suck her blood and drain the life out of her. But he held back. If she'd come too close, he didn't know if he'd be able to control himself. Since he'd turned twenty one, everything had changed. Even with medication, he spent his nights out hunting, baying for blood, preying on animals when he couldn't resist. So far, he'd drawn the line at innocent humans but he craved their energy, especially Kate's. Her blood had always been tempting to him.

'I waited for you to return,' Kate repeated, frustrated with the tone of the conversation, 'until I could wait no longer.' Her words were greeted with stony indifference as they walked together, yet apart. 'I would've waited for you forever, if you'd just sent me some word, a proper explanation.'

'Well, it didn't take you long to make your choice,' Heath said bitterly.

'You gave up too easily…' Kate said incredulously.

Heath continued to talk. 'Stupidly, I left quickly, without talking to you. I went to find the doctor on Harley Street; I thought he would be able to shed some light on Harrison's lies, give me proof we were not brother and sister. My specialist was abroad. By the time I walked back to the bedsit to find you, it was almost midday. I went past that tiny pub near Dean Street where people had already congregated and was caught in the middle of a fight on the footpath. I don't know how it happened but I was knocked out and found myself in the back of a van being taken for questioning by the police. They locked me up that night and as we didn't have the telephone, I couldn't speak to you. I passed out.

Without my supplies, things just went from bad to worse. I became delirious. When I woke, I was desperate to find you.

There was a girl and a man that night as I walked back to our flat, and they were fighting and he brought out a knife. There was no one else around and when he threatened her, then me… I… snapped. I did not know my full strength. It was the first time I ever… fed on a human. The girl fled. The man was alive when I left him but I felt so despicable. Still, I wanted to find you, though I could hardly face you. You weren't at the bedsit and…I believed he would have killed the girl if I hadn't…stopped him - but I was out of control by then. I vowed never to let myself become like that and to find out the truth about…us.'

Kate was shocked; she didn't know what to say.

'Perhaps in some cases…violence is justified. I am not afraid of you, Heath.'

'Their fight started with a few misplaced words and a punch being thrown out on the street…but ours started so much sooner. We were always from two different worlds, Kate, but two halves of the same whole, even so.'

Heath looked embarrassed as he told Kate the rest of the story.

'I tried to contact you. I'd spent the night locked up and a further day talking my way out of everything - it's a long story - there was no match to me on the man's person so they couldn't charge me. Oh, that's the latest thing, my…fingerprints have disappeared. And… when I look in the mirror, I barely see my image. But I'm still okay in the sun, as long as I wear this.' He pulled out the amulet her father had made sure he wore as a young child.

'I was very…angry when I got back to Hampstead. I felt…unworthy of you, but I was determined to find you. I had my answer from Dr Vincent and I was satisfied the necessary tests had been made to ensure we were not related. Then, I made my way back here to Hareton Hall and walked across this park. It was almost exactly three years ago today.

As I approached the house, Hareton Hall was lit up like a Christmas tree. I felt a pang of…envy, jealousy as if I didn't know how I'd react if I saw you. Kate, for the first time in my life, after what had just happened, I didn't trust myself around you. I was determined to demand your whereabouts from Harrison if you had been, as I believed you were…sent back to Switzerland. I'd already contacted the school after I returned to our empty bedsit, but they gave me nothing, because they weren't allowed to tell me anything. Then they suggested you might be at The Hall. I thought maybe Annabelle had told someone… that we planned to run away together…'

'No,' Kate said, 'she was loyal to us both…'

Heath continued…

'When I finally saw the inside of that house, through the big lower floor bay window where you always used to sit and read, I saw Hunt's face, and Annabelle's, laughing. There was a puppy in your arms and you looked happy. Harrison and Frances seemed so… self-satisfied on the couch. Harrison was playing the "good husband" and talking amiably to Frances. I could hardly contain my…rage when I saw your beautiful, smiling face in the corner room looking outside.'

'I was looking…for you.'

'Well…I'm glad you didn't see me.' Heath said resignedly.

'I'm not glad.'

'When I saw Hunt come over and hand you a gift, something inside me, changed.'

'It was Christmas…tradition…'

'I gathered that. But it was unbearable to me. He…kissed you.'

'The party was celebrating my recovery. I could hardly walk after the ski trip. I'd been in a coma and I'd woken up…and you had been missing for so long.'

'I know. But the gloating look on Harrison's face and Hunt's obvious attraction to you, made me angry. I felt like killing him. You kissed him back, Kate.'

'I was acting. I had no choice.'

'I think you were happy with them… with the security Hunt provided for you in that moment …like that. It seemed to be what you had always wanted.'

There was a long silence that hung between them like ice.

'I vowed revenge.'

Kate nodded slowly.

'I have since thought… I may have been…partly…responsible. Heath, I called everywhere asking for you prior to the day of my marriage.'

'I was… not fit for company after that moment. I stayed watching you in the shadows, my anger slowly submerged into whatever is left of my soul, along with the happiness on your face.'

'Like I said, I was pretending. You must have turned away before Hunt carried me to the dining room table. But if you hadn't, you may have realised why I couldn't walk there myself. My foot was bandaged. It had nothing to do with love.'

Heath said, 'I thought you had made your choice.'

'Never, I spent days in the bedsit crying over you before Greta came and found me. I was whisked away to Switzerland that weekend, it's true. But I planned to find you the moment I could walk again.'

Kate looked down at her muddy boots. The horses, sheltered, were ready to move again.

Kate stood up.

Heath grabbed hold of her wrist.

'Leave him. I cannot be without you.'

'Nor I you,' Kate said. 'But I have made a promise and I cannot just walk out on that promise. Not right now.'

'What about your promise to me?'

'You left me. I can't just…abandon the family who have been good to me.' She paused, 'Please, will you come to dinner tonight? We can talk after Hunt has gone to bed. He knows I think of you … fondly.'

Heath laughed.

'Hunt will do anything, at the moment, to please me.'

'Anything? Why?'

He looked at Kate's face.

Kate blinked and sat down.

'I must have stood up too quickly,' she said.

He studied her more closely, blood rising in her cheeks. He'd seen this look before. A girl he'd hung out with in New York, a waitress who became a friend and worked in one of the clubs where he'd played had been dating a guitarist. After they left the club they got married and she had a child six months later.

Perhaps Heath knew Kate so well he knew before she did. She reached out her hand to him and pulled him close to her. His hearing had become extremely good since he'd turned. It was one of the advantages of becoming immortal. He sunk to his knees and pressed his head into her chest. He could hear conversations through walls so why not babies through skin? The two heartbeats pounded his ear as she slumped into him - Kate's and the heartbeat of her unborn child. He felt sick to his stomach and twice as betrayed as she attempted to take his hand.

'Please, come to dinner at The Grange. I have to see you again and I can't put off the dinner party I promised Annabelle we'd have. She will be thrilled that you are to be the guest of honour.'

He flinched and moved away from Kate as she moved closer.

'Annabelle? Is she still living here?'

'Yes, The Grange is half hers, Heath.'

'Oh,' Heath said, disinterestedly.

'She's finished her Art Course and has her first commission to paint some houses in this borough. She's staying with us for a few months.' Kate added.

Heath backed away from the woman he loved more than himself, with a blank expression. He wasn't ready to give her up.

'I'll be over in the car at about eight,' he said dispassionately. 'After all, Hunt should meet his new neighbour.'

**Chapter Twenty-three**

_**Return**_

The car was sleek and black. Heath loved it above the others. He'd made so much money these last few years, more than he could ever need or want and he was surprised it hadn't made him happy.

'_There is nothing in the world that will make up for a lack of real friends and family,'_ Greta said to him once, when he was a child. He knew it to be true as he slumped into his bath, took his plasma capsules and washed them down with red wine. He'd wolfed down a roasted pheasant when he returned from his meeting with Kate, his mind reeling.

The previous week, Harrison was asleep in a heap at the table when a knock on the door woke him. Most of the staff had left by the time Heath arrived at Hareton Hall. He was surprised he'd left for America without telling his sister about the house.

'What are you doing here?' Harrison slurred, surprised when Heath hovered at the doorstep.

'Come in,' Greta said, 'I was just leaving.'

Heath smiled quietly. Harrison could not prevent his entry now that he'd been formally invited in.

'I gave you six weeks to get out, Harrison. You can either stay on and look after the stables or take your stuff and leave.'

'How dare you? I haven't told my wife or Hinton…'

Unbeknownst to them, Harrison had been gambling in a disreputable part of the West End most evenings. Heath and some of his work colleagues had seen him going from one establishment to another until Heath himself had challenged him to a game of poker where the wager on the house had been set in front of at least a dozen witnesses. Still, Heath reasoned, he hadn't forced him to sign the legal documents. Harrison had done that of his own accord.

'Well, you'd better tell them soon. I just came to drop off some belongings and pick up my suit…'

'You mean my father's?'

'He was my father too.'

'Adopted,' Harrison added slyly.

'Yes, and the only father I have known…a quality you would know nothing about. I have no idea how you could possibly imagine I'd be your…blood relation. Oh, that's right, you knew I wasn't. Thank you for finally ruining our happiness. You never heard such a conversation as you detailed to me in that note…did you?'

'Of course not, mother wanted to leave. She knew father had not had an affair with your mother. It was not his way. He was honourable.'

Heath moved quickly this time. Though Harrison was tough he was amazed at the strength in Heath's hands as he had him in a headlock on the kitchen table. Then he moved closer and Heath (although drunk by midday as usual) swore he saw fangs emerge from the man's mouth and moaned and screamed for mercy as Heath threw him, using all the strength he had to resist savaging him, onto the footpath by the scruff of his neck, like an animal.

When Harrison relayed the story to his psychiatrist days later, the doctor recommended stronger medication.

Harrison had been so shocked, he could barely speak. When he did, it was more of a whisper as Heath detailed the terms of his ownership…

'You'll come to a bad end charity case… even with all your new money.'

Heath threw Harrison's suitcase on the landing outside the door.

'That's just the kind of statement I'd expect from a daylight drunk. You have a wife and a child to support. Maybe you should start thinking about how you're going to do that after going through father's millions. Face it Harrison, this day was always going to come…'

'Am I really supposed to believe that you did all this because you lost Kate?' Harrison bawled.

'I'm serving you notice, Harrison. Either accept my offer to stay on as groom until you find a job, something that goes above and beyond what is legally expected of me - and you, Frances and Hinton can have the cottage - or leave. You have two hours to decide.'

Heath brushed past him as he walked to his car.

Harrison banged his fist on the window as Heath placed the keys in the ignition.

'You really are something, aren't you, Heath Spencer. I did you a favour when I kept you away from Kate, when I insinuated the truth of your dubious heritage.'

'You mean, made it up. Yes, something I'm eternally grateful for. You know nothing about my history, as you put it, but the thought of having you as a blood relation made my stomach turn. I got tested. Kate and I share no biological relation but we have always been of like mind. Perhaps that is stronger than biology. All you did Harrison, was spend enough energy to keep Kate and me apart… for a while, but not forever.'

'She's married to someone else.'

'Not for long. Get your stuff and take it to the guest house. You're lucky Hinton's so young or I'd show no mercy and throw you out on the street.'

Harrison pitched a rock at Heath's car but the alcohol had damaged his balance and it missed, smashing a window of the house instead.

'You nearly hit me,' Heath said, rolling down the window. 'I'll add that to your debts, shall I?'

Harrison slumped to the gravel.

'It's mid-afternoon Harrison,' Heath said. 'Get yourself sobered up.'

'You…you clean yourself up!' Harrison bawled.

Heath heard the older man screaming at him as he drove off in his sleek sports car. Harrison wobbled out of the house with a shot gun that he was too drunk to point in the right direction. Threats hardly bothered Heath. He'd proved himself impervious to bullets. Heath considered feeling bad for Harrison as he drove off, but he couldn't. The years of cruelty Harrison had inflicted on him as a child made pity impossible. Now the captive would become the captor. He did not worry for his own soul or for Kate's anymore. Their fates were linked, he was sure of it.

**Chapter Twenty-four**

_**Dinner Party **_

Heath stayed in Hampstead that night, at the pub he later bought.

I had the dated receipt amongst his letters**.** Harrison had agreed to leave The Hall the next day. He'd delivered a note to Heath at the pub and was taking the family on a trip, with what remained of his assets. They would arrange to have their belongings collected. Heath was officially the owner of Hareton Hall and Harrison had finally woken up sober.

In any case, Heath did not wish to return to his home that night. He'd always liked the old pub overlooking the grounds of Hampstead Heath and had a notion, with his new found wealth, to buy it.

He pulled a Savile Row suit, newly tailored, from the wardrobe. Heath needed to look his best tonight. He showered, combed his hair, drank some Magenta and cleaned his teeth. There were few things that interested him less than fashion but he was determined to make an effort for this dinner party. He felt good to go as he grabbed his room key and walked down the stairs to his car.

Heath arrived at The Grange soon after to find it lit up magnificently. The Georgian house was as fine as Kenwood House but The Grange, being tucked behind a veil of trees, was more secure and not open to the public. It was the palace Heath and Kate had grown up alongside, but Heath thought, with some minor alterations, Hareton Hall would be grander.

The invitation was for a dinner party of sorts. Kate, Hunt, Annabelle and himself were to be the only guests.

Heath was the last to arrive.

Annabelle had spent hours getting ready that night. She wore a long, blue, figure hugging dress that reached to her ankles. To match her sparkling designer heels, she wore an expensive diamond necklace that had been handed down through generations of Hunts.

The round dining room table was set grandly as though they were entertaining a guest of honour rather than an old friend. The chandeliers were on full power and candles were lit in rows on the wall, highlighting the minimalist design. The interiorshad been recently renovated. It was a house that had always haunted Heath and compelled Kate.

When Heath rang the doorbell, expecting the butler or housekeeper to greet him, he was surprised that Kate opened the door herself and invited him in. She stood there, in a red velvet jacket, black jeans and fresh boots. Her hair hung in ringlets down her back and she looked like a girl who'd just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Kate's stomach was flat and there was not a hint of her pregnancy, although she realised she should probably have warned Heath about Katarina, since there were family photographs all over the lounge room.

'Being richer suits you,' Heath said, pushing past her and making his way into the hallway.

Kate looked at Heath and smiled, ignoring his insinuation. The girl greeted him like an old friend, a little too warmly to be a favourite brother and a little too enthusiastically for Hunt's liking.

Edmund Hunt, seated in the drawing room, was finalizing his applications to law school and reading over the notes he'd written. He had been warned by Kate to be civil. His marriage, still in its early days, was fragile. Their child, Katarina, lay sleeping upstairs. Kate had not mentioned her to Heath but her photographs were dotted all over the drawing room. Edmund Hunt, desperate to please his wife, was on his best behaviour. Hunt was aware that of the two of them, he was the one who loved more.

Edmund still couldn't believe Kate had agreed to marry him. He knew banning her from seeing Heath at this point would never work. Trying to convince Kate the man was beneath her would also be hopeless. Kate, although raised with generations of old money, had never really set aside her obsession with Heath. Hunt was aware that his money and class would never be enough to compete with Kate's childhood obsession. In Hunt's view, possession was nine tenths of the law and Kate was his now. Their soon to be born child made him sure of this.

Annabelle had dressed formally for the occasion, Kate noticed. Whilst it had recently been no surprise to see her in jeans and an old, paint-splattered shirt, her sister-in-law was dressed to kill. Belle had also spent the afternoon at the hairdresser's having her blonde hair foiled and waved in the latest celebrity style.

Kate worried about her, and not for the reasons Annabelle suspected. Jealousy was not an emotion Kate felt easily and certainly not in the direction of Annabelle. But she suspected, or really had always known that Annabelle remained infatuated with Heath. His contempt for all her sister-in-law stood for (inherited wealth, class distinction, the divide between him and Kate) would run deeper and extend to contempt for Annabelle.

Heath's pallor seemed tanned; his clothes were tailored and expensive. Annabelle had done some research and informed Kate that he owned companies all over town. Kate had barely listened. She was unimpressed by the way Heath had brought Harrison low, even though she knew how much Harrison deserved it.

Heath was dressed in a formal suit under a pure cashmere overcoat. Only Kate knew the scarf he wore was her own. To Annabelle, who was sitting in the bay window seat - the same place Kate had sat in when she was recovering after the skiing incident, waiting or rather pining for Heath - this would not register.

Heath thought Kate looked like a movie star as he hovered in the hall. He tried to ignore her as he casually glanced at the photographs on the walls. Annabelle shone in the background, but he paid her scant attention in that moment. When his eyes had finished glancing at Kate's infant daughter (she looked to be about one in the photograph), Heath glanced back at Kate, then Annabelle.

Kate withdrew to the kitchen as Annabelle raced up to Heath, enthusiastically. Heath stood formally in the hallway.

'Hello Annabelle.'

'Hello Heath,' Annabelle replied happily. 'May I take your coat?'

Normally, the butler would have done this, but Annabelle had been quick to the mark after Greta wished them all good night and given the staff the night off. Annabelle took Heath's scarf and placed it on the hall table not far from Katarina's baby picture which Heath appeared not to notice.

When Annabelle reached over to take Heath's coat, he turned around quicker than she anticipated. To her surprise and delight, just as she was going to greet him with the customary European air kiss on both cheeks, he kissed her on the mouth instead. Heath showed no expression as Annabelle blushed again and stumbled to the coat rack feeling as light as air.

The visitor smiled warmly. 'You are looking lovely tonight, Annabelle,' he said. Annabelle was excited to hear her name spoken in his velvet voice. 'It's been too long. I haven't seen you in years,' he added.

Annabelle smiled shyly and blushed at the warm greeting and unexpected compliment she had received.

'We thought you had forgotten us,' Annabelle said, pretending to be slightly put out as they walked through to the drawing room.

'Not exactly, I work in finance now. My work took me… to America.'

'I read about you in the paper today: financial wiz kid and all that. They posted a lot of details in the article. Apparently you are the most sought after bachelor in England. You should have stayed in touch,' Annabelle beamed.

'Well, the important thing is I'm back in touch now,' he said, staring directly into her eyes.

Annabelle continued, 'and then I read all about how much money you donate to charity…'

'For tax purposes,' Heath added modestly.

Annabelle ignored his response and whispered, 'I always knew you were a good person, Heath.'

Heath rolled his eyes when no one was looking and loosened his tie. His mouth watered when he smelled the steaks sizzling in the kitchen. Kate, dressed in an old-fashioned apron and playing chef, began to worry that trusting Heath to be civil tonight was a mistake. However, concerned she might lose contact with him altogether and unable to face the thought, she had hastily taken the risk to combine the three people now closest to her in the same room.

'I'm sorry not to have kept in touch, Annabelle. I suppose…real life gets in the way,' Heath added, changing the subject as Annabelle handed him a glass of red wine.

Hunt stood up when Heath entered the room as Kate re-introduced the men. They shook hands and talked about the stock market as Heath's gaze wandered, drinking in the family portraits.

During dinner, where Heath was most amiable to Hunt and Kate, it was as if the seductive kiss between him and Annabelle had never happened.

The first course was heating on the stove. Greta had left all the instructions as she departed but Kate kept getting up to check on everything. The table had been set perfectly and Heath recognised Greta's hand in all of the decorations. He knew Kate must have wanted the night to be perfect for some reason. Perhaps she somehow expected his re-introduction to the family would be a happy occasion.

Kate, who had been finalizing the sketches for Annabelle's play, had little to do with the domestic running of the house. She had been avidly researching the best food to serve at dinner parties…and the recipe for Heath's favourite dish of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

Heath walked into the kitchen, leaving brother and sister alone to chat after demolishing the first course of lobster soup. Heath offered to bring the plates and stack them in the sink. It was the first time he'd ever done menial work in a kitchen since Greta had allowed him to wipe the dishes as a six-year-old. He'd done it so badly she never asked him again. He disliked kitchen tasks but for tonight, he'd made an exception. He knew women actually liked men who pretended to be domesticated and he was keen to impress Annabelle. Heath found it funny because he thought Kate would have to be out of her mind to really be fooled by his act, but she played along.

Kate smiled, 'This is all going remarkably well, considering.'

'I'm not sure what you mean,' Heath said.

Kate leaned in and whispered, 'considering you hate my husband.'

Heath looked into her eyes, 'I don't hate him. The thought of him barely enters my mind. By the way, I saw the family portrait. How old is your daughter?'

'Katarina is just a toddler.'

'Don't you think I should meet her?'

'Not tonight. She's asleep.'

Heath shrugged. Kate sighed disbelievingly as she took the dinner plates from the top shelf above the stove. Heath looked on impatiently studying Kate's perfect curves as she retrieved various forks and spoons. The desire to plunge his retracted fangs into her neck, the curve in her arm, the crease behind her knee - demolish her altogether - was more intense than ever.

'Anything else I can do?' Heath asked standing close to her. 'I have to say, I thought Hunt would have more…staff.'

'Don't be stupid, Heath. Greta only comes in because I begged her not to leave me. Most of the servants quit ages ago. Hardly anyone in London has servants anymore. We barely afford the groom even though Hunt is, as you know, comfortable.'

Heath laughed.

'Is that meant to be a joke? '

Kate sighed. 'Of course I understand how fortunate we are. I volunteer at the local charity now.'

'Listen to you. You sound so…pious.'

'It's more than you've ever done.'

'True, but then I was born a little closer to the poverty line than you were and it's not a place I relished. Anyway, you needn't be so proud of your ability to marry well and your husband's ability to inherit money.'

'You think I married well? I thought you'd abandoned me Heath. What was I supposed to do? You disappeared for three years.' she whispered, wary that Annabelle and Edmund might hear.

'Yes, that was…unfortunate.'

'That's an understatement. If you need to blame someone, you should at least partly blame yourself.'

Heath reached for Kate when he was sure the others were in conversation in the other room. He leant in to her hair as he used to when they were younger and she hugged him, greedily, expectantly, wanting more.

Then, just as he contemplated kissing her perfect lips, he spoke.

'Oh Kate,' Heath shook his head. 'I'm just imagining what a boring little country wife you have become…'

Kate pushed him away.

'Stop it Heath, you're being horrible…'

Heath laughed softly.

'What did you expect when you invited me here?' he whispered.

'Why are we whispering? Never mind…' Kate stacked the pudding dishes. 'I just wanted us to have…'

'What,' he whispered, 'an evening reminiscing? Like the good old days! Did you hide the shot guns? Hunt can barely hide his disdain for having to dine with the help…'

'That's not fair, he's not a snob…he was…thrilled I'd invited you home.'

'I can't believe you're sticking up for him.' She was close to him now. He heard the heart beats and spoke out of turn, accusingly.

'You're pregnant aren't you? That's why you won't leave him,' Heath said as he transported the spoons to the tray.

'Heath…he's…'

'He's what? Your husband…the man you preferred to sleep with over me? The man you…love? Does he know you married him for his money, _because_ of a misunderstanding with me?'

'Now, you're being nasty…' Kate whispered, cautioning him with her intonation.

'Only now?' he replied.

Just then, Annabelle came wandering in, her long skirt floating into the room behind her as if she were part of an intangible mirage or some bizarre circus. She smiled at Heath, unable to contain her thrill at being in the same vicinity as this unknowable, beautiful man. The wind outside the kitchen windows groaned across the grounds of the estate. Winter air that had turned to a deep chill over the last few days warned them of the icy weather and snow soon to follow.

Heath felt the chill then smiled again at Annabelle. 'I don't miss the cold. America is warmer. By the way, I was just telling Kate how lovely you look tonight, Annabelle.'

'Thank you.' Annabelle said, clearly thrilled but obviously surprised to be complimented so publicly.

'I can see this is not going to be simple,' Kate said under her breath as she opened the oven door.

'Let me help you with that,' Heath said, obligingly. 'Kate was never one for the kitchen,' he said to Annabelle, 'and we wouldn't want you lifting anything heavy in your condition.'

Annabelle beamed, 'Isn't it exciting?'

'Very,' Heath said.

'Kate's told you…'

'I guessed,' Heath responded. The sound of the tiny heartbeat drummed in Heath's ears as soon as he was close to Kate. He wanted to savage her and was sated only by a double dose of Magenta before he arrived. Annabelle gazed at Heath warmly. She was thinking what an amiable and successful man he had become.

Hunt, sitting at the dining room table patiently, was closing the half opened window as Kate returned with the gravy boat.

'Darling, I told you we should have kept the staff tonight,' he said, deluded about the rising cost of living.

'It's just friends, Edmund. I didn't want anything to be formal.'

Now it was Edmund's turn to roll his eyes.

'I rather think I would have sooner entertained a rapper or a recently paroled dealer…'

'Shh…' Kate said. 'Heath is a guest… he's family.'

'He's not _my_ family,' Hunt said as Heath entered the room. It wasn't his style to pretend not to hear, to play the upper class games Kate's family were raised playing, but for tonight he would make an exception. All would continue along smoothly, for the moment.

They talked of old school acquaintances and the stock market. Edmund, steadied by Katherine, had been warned not to discuss the missing years of their lives.

Hunt boasted of Kate's brief but shining design of the classic play being talked about in the London theatre world and congratulated Heath on his obvious business successes.

'Yes,' Heath said, 'and, I'm sure Kate has told you, I'm…as of three minutes ago… the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

Hunt raised his eyebrows and looked shocked. Then he looked directly at Kate.

'Darling, you never told me this.'

Kate looked surprised. 'I only just found out…'

'Harrison lost it in a bet…and now, it's mine…' Heath added as Annabelle scooped raspberry coulis over her ice-cream. Not entirely oblivious to the family drama, she looked up wide-eyed. It was exciting that Heath was to be their newest neighbour. She would get to see him regularly. And now that Kate was married, her sister-in-law couldn't resent their friendship. Annabelle smiled warmly at Heath over her pudding. Heath looked at the raspberry sauce and imagined drinking her blood.

'But I thought… Oh, I still have a few of the pictures I was commissioned to make, left to do…of the Hall…'

'And you shall,' Heath added jubilantly.

Kate looked up, 'Would anyone like coffee?' she asked, trying to change the subject.

'Yes, please,' Heath said. 'I find myself absolutely starving for pudding, and I never eat sweets. That must have been the finest meal you've ever cooked tonight, Kate. What an excellent little wife you've made…the second time around,' he said condescendingly.

Hunt stared at him. 'We didn't ask you here to insult us,' he said.

'Mmm,' Heath replied, 'well, you didn't ask me here at all, did you?'

'Heath,' Kate cautioned.

'No, it must be said, out with it. Kate's _my_ wife now, not yours.'

Heath just looked at him and laughed.

'Yes, well, I can see by the light on her wedding ring - nearly knocked me out when we ran into each other riding yesterday. Oh, that's right. You weren't wearing one, were you?' Heath said sarcastically.

Kate shook her head.

'Let's all go into the drawing room and have a drink,' Annabelle suggested.

'Actually,' Heath announced as he stood up, 'I find I'm tired after all my…acquisitions today.' He looked straight at Kate, then at Annabelle.

'I trust you know you will be welcome at Hareton Hall anytime, Annabelle, to finish your paintings and photographs. The same goes for my new neighbours. Perhaps we could go riding again soon Kate.'

Kate looked up. In the still and without distractions, he could read her mind, _'Don't…'_ she thought, _'don't tell him…that I love you more…even after the fact that you've succeeded in making a fool out of me tonight…'_

Hunt looked at Kate, surprised she had already been socializing with this man who he had feared, it must be said, admired yes, and as a school boy, hated… Though now, he felt a slight twinge of pity for the person who was so evidently in love with what was his.

Later that night, Kate lay awake, reading one of her favourite novels, _Jane Eyre_. She read about the delusional woman in the attic, the first wife and wondered how much of the crazy it took to send a woman mad. Her husband had tossed and turned after Heath left but he had no inkling of the power Heath had over her, of how torn she now was. Underneath, she longed to be only with Heath.

That was how little Edmund understood her.

And who knew? Maybe it was a marriage of convenience, just as Heath had insinuated. Their partnership was a merge of her finances and Edmund's property. But what choice did she have back then?

Kate lay awake for hours in the dark, thinking about Annabelle's loving glances towards Heath at the dinner table. It would be a lie to say, as she tossed and turned all night, she didn't have any inkling what Heath might do next.

**Chapter Twenty-five**

_**Scholarship - Present Day**_

Slowly, Katarina and Hinton became friends.

WhenKatarina arrived at Hareton Hall at nine in the morning to help Hinton revise his written applications for the Art prize, she felt a pool of excitement in the pit of her stomach. She could hardly wait to see him again. Hinton had confided in her that he thought his written skills were lacking and Katarina had offered to help him present, "the best possible version of himself", as she put it. He had readily accepted and together they made a first draft.

The Hall, once the grandest of houses, had creeping plants growing from its foundations now, as if it were slowly crumbling from the inside. Over the past few months, the wiring needed fixing, the swimming pool had grown thick with leaves, the tennis court was left untended and the stables were nearly empty. The owner had become more and more reclusive.

Hinton didn't want to tell her why he'd felt a desire stronger than any natural one to drink blood. It was a one in ten thousand possibility, according to Heath's specialist, but somehow his condition matched that of his adopted parent. A trace had been done and it seemed somehow Hinton and Heath shared the same affliction.

Their lineage, a distant, improbable vampire link, was not all they had in common. Hinton and Heath shared a desire to feed, a fear of the sunlight and their own fading images in mirrors. Heath's was now an outline and soon there would be nothing. Today, Hinton's image in the hallway mirror had dulled considerably. Instead of a medallion, Hinton wore a signet ring that Heath had given him when he was small, to protect him from the sun. Hinton resolved not to focus on the negatives of his condition.

The winner of the scholarship was due to receive an apartment and a small stipend abroad. Prague would be darker and rainier than many places and Hinton quite liked the idea of that kind of weather, for obvious reasons. He wanted to get away. Still, only one person from the whole college would be chosen on the strength of their exhibit.

Katarina had insisted on taking him in her new car for lunch in Hampstead High Street. Her father had bought the car for her as a bribe for choosing to study in London instead of travelling far from home. Previously, the thought of Katarina leaving him was something her loving father had found nearly impossible to bear. Katarina, having recently turned eighteen, was experiencing a freedom she had longed for after passing her driving test. The girl was yet to tell her father that she had become friendly with Heath, Linus and Hinton. That was an "off limits" conversation.

It was a beautiful day, rare and summery, like the ones her father had told her about when she was first born. In those days, when she was a child, she vaguely remembered her young mother taking her to Hampstead Heath for picnics. Her studious father would hold her hand, walk her across the road and teach her to ride. When she was old enough she rode park trails on her pony and later, her horse. By the time she was a teenager, she'd become an expert, riding properly in various events on Hero's Daughter.

When Katarina asked about her mother's family, all her father told her was that he'd never been fond of Heath as a child. He grew up with nannies and in boarding schools as men of his class and in his generation did but repeatedly told Katarina he loved her - something his own family had never said to him. Katarina knew this was true and that he meant well. He had tried not to burden her with this now adult concept of his quiet, contained, isolated youth but one day he told his daughter something that surprised her.

'I never saw my parents show any affection to one another,' he told Katarina when they were out riding together.

'Something of an overshare, Papa,' she'd replied.

Katarina realised how different her upbringing had been from her father's.

How strange and quiet the heath had become in winter, her father thought, when he first bundled this little girl up and took her for long walks to Kenwood House. As she grew older, and had her own nanny, the family would often go for picnics in the grounds of the heath. Though the gardens of their own house were magnificent, Hunt wanted Katarina to have the normal childhood that had eluded him, or as normal as it was possible for her to have, so he took her exploring.

Being in his daughter's company pleased Edmund Hunt endlessly. He remembered so many dinners with his own father, separated by an expanse of dining room table. He was never allowed to chatter during meals. He determined to raise Katarina differently. Together they played a game called… _What if? _From the time Katarina could talk she was encouraged to ask questions: '_What if the world was coloured pink? What if the grass was blue? What if Mummy hadn't left?'_ This question ended the game. There were some questions Hunt wouldn't answer.

As she grew older he worried for her and for himself. His daughter was sweet-natured and generous. She had gifted him further understanding of the world beyond his front door. Katarina made Hunt see life for what it was, rather than in isolation and in relation to his needs and those of his family. He knew he loved her so much he would never be able to say "no" to her and dreaded the day she would ask him for something he could not or did not wish to give her.

Like the truth.

The morning Katarina and Hinton decided to drive over to Hampstead High Street, the place, busy with post-Christmas bargain hunters, was busy. Together they sat in the French patisserie and ordered coffee, sandwiches and sweet cakes. Hinton barely ate in her presence and when he did, he picked the chicken off his plate and chewed that first.

'Do you know why our families don't speak?' Katarina asked as she stirred sugar into her latte.

'Age old feud,' Hinton said. 'I think Linus knows the whole story. I only know my version of it. I'm sure your father would have a different account of what happened.'

'He wouldn't be happy if he knew we were all in contact, that's for sure. But I'm so glad you and Linus and I are friends.'

'Is that what we are?' Hinton looked at her quickly, wondering for a moment if she would say something more.

In response, Katarina looked into his eyes as Hinton took her hand. His fingers were pleasantly cool.

'I want to…thank you for helping me so much.'

Hinton slipped a tiny packet in the saucer of her tea cup. The envelope contained a delicate, gold bracelet with the initials KH carved on the inside. It must have cost Hinton at least a month of the wages he'd earned, working at the pub.

Katarina smiled as Hinton helped her to fasten the clasp around her wrist.

'Thank you,' she said, finishing her toast. Then she did something that surprised him. Katarina leant over and kissed him with her honey lips.

Hinton's face flushed red. He wasn't really sure what to say next. He'd dated girls, lots of them, but he'd never felt for anyone the way he felt for Katarina. He shyly took her hand and kissed it.

They had been reading together every day. Heath still got the odd word the wrong way round, but had improved considerably. He was sure the extra study he did with the tutor he'd hired (encouraged by Katarina) had gone a long way to making words much easier for him to read. His world had opened up and he was less afraid of what the future held when she was near. He didn't want to let go of her fingers.

'Over these months …you helped me to have some confidence, not just in reading, but in…myself.'

Katarina was speechless. She had looked forward to every moment she spent with Hinton walking through Hampstead and working together in the studio in Soho. He dreaded what he had to tell her so instead he passed her some documents.

'You need to read something,' Hinton said, 'before you decide if you want to…be my girlfriend…'

Katarina smiled, it was the first time he'd used that word. Then she frowned, what possible barrier stood in the way of this, her first real romance?

Hinton passed her his medical records.

'You need to be aware,' he said, 'that I'm not…normal.'

Katarina looked at him quizzically, unsure of the correct response. Hinton got up and left the coffee shop as Katarina opened the cover of the first folder marked: **Type A Requirements**.

Later that day, Hinton was in the college studio, quietly painting. He had a small supply of Magenta that he kept in the student common room kitchen in a flask. He quietly sucked on lunch through a straw. Since he'd turned twenty-one his desire for human blood had been overwhelming but this daily treat of Magenta kept it at bay. Vampiricism was another reason he and his uncle both liked and loathed each other.

Heath had been the first to identify him as a fellow bloodsucker. Hinton had been so full of self-loathing he was almost glad Harrison and Franny had never lived to see him develop from hybrid to vampire. Harrison had drunk himself to death in his early thirties and his wife, Frances, had been killed in a nightclub in Paris at the age of twenty-six. That's how Hinton wound up with Heath. It was discovered Heath and Frances (remarkably) shared a supernatural gene. Although Heath had not been biologically related to Harrison or Kate, he was a very distant cousin (two hundred years removed) to Frances and Hinton.

Hinton didn't share Heath's passion for chicken but he gnawed on a cooked chop that had been specially marinated, pan fried and wrapped in foil. He'd left Katarina with the open folder on her desk and didn't want to think about what her reaction might be.

Hinton painted freely. He was sure with brush strokes in a way that he had never been with words. He disliked any form of authority but was aware of his need to improve his basic reading skills. He was embarrassed to be this age, to be this bright (he had no trouble comprehending the world and had a photographic memory for numbers and people's names…), yet to still be such a terrible reader was confronting. He'd long ago accepted his daily need for blood but he was ashamed of his lack of education. He'd stuttered as a child and somehow he'd overcome this affliction in his teens. If Katarina believed in him, he felt sure, with her help, he could overcome his wicked desires.

He liked the solitude of the studio, deep in the quiet hub of the empty Art College.

Nobody was here late in the afternoon and there was not a soul to suggest changes to what he was creating. He thought of Katarina and checked the messages on his mobile; nothing. He wondered what she was thinking but didn't want to press her until she had fully digested what the words in that folder meant.

They'd been working on abstract expressionism in class, but for the first time in weeks Hinton's brush seemed to have a mind of its own as he removed the drying artwork from his desk and set to work on a blank canvas attached to a wooden easel.

He sketched the outline from a photograph taken on his mobile but then he relied on the memory of her perfect face. As if writing a first draft, he sketched with abandon, adding the base with great ease and little emphasis on detail. But then, as the hours wore on, and afternoon became evening, he built the intricate shades of colour that became skin on his subject's neck. The textures made him uneasy. Still, with no answer from the girl, his first layer of the image was becoming more complex, like a photograph of Katarina's face. Hinton leaned in and painted two perfect red dots on the paper frail skin above her collar bone. Then he bowed his head in his hands and sighed.

That afternoon, Katarina re-read Hinton's file.

It was less shocking than she'd suspected.

The word 'blood' stood out in all its satin, red stained essence.

The description of Hinton's "type" was unusual but not conclusive. For years now, there had been talk in the press about a rogue species; human-vampires. Born with a weak strain of vampiricism, they developed fully over a period of time and into adulthood. It was different for males and females. The females could linger for up to twenty years in hibernation and it was impossible to tell the difference between hybrids and human beings. Katarina had not taken as much notice as she should have but she remembered these details from a recent article on the web.

She wanted to discover as many facts as she could; she wanted to find out what this strain meant for them and how she could help. Regardless of words on paper, Hinton was still Hinton. Katarina realized this as she read the doctor's dramatic introduction: _he may not sleep at night, he may not wish to eat…it may be possible he lives far beyond the years of normal humans… _The words "immortality", "bloodsucker", "vanished", "feeding", "type A", "hunger", "forever", jumped out at her on the page. Katarina resolved to do some more research that evening.

Upon waking, after Katarina had had a few hours' sleep and the enormity of Hinton's condition had set in, Hinton would be greeted with the message - **it's okay. I love you and that doesn't change. I want to help in any way possible. Meet you tomorrow afternoon Hareton Hall. **

Katarina was determined to finish her Art folio the next day (of a series of photographs of Hareton Hall) using different levels of light. The girl also intended to start reading the files and finish the journals. She knew there was a secret that went beyond Hinton. The hush ran through the family. There had been whispers of a human-hybrid species for years in the media, but no one she ever knew had met an actual vampire; whole or hybrid. They kept to themselves, or maybe they just hid in the shadows.

Hinton, in retrospect, had displayed all the symptoms she'd researched on the web upon waking. His specialist had scrawled in the files… 'The young man has cravings for protein, then citrus, then…animal blood…which may develop upon adulthood as a craving for humans…' Katarina looked away. Further details were in the files that she forced herself to read.

The boy displayed a nocturnal instinct as a child. He'd tried to bite his own mother (at birth) and she had declared him 'impossible' to raise.

It was true. Hinton had gravitated towards Heath as a child. His sister, Frances, had stayed at the Hall briefly until she fled to Paris. Harrison had been discovered trying to beat Hinton with a stick, before he drank himself into oblivion. That part was true; it was like history repeating itself.

Katarina was surprised as she read the social worker's reports sitting in the car. Her desire to help and protect Hinton grew stronger with every sentence.

**Chapter Twenty-six**

_**Secrets**_

When Katarina arrived at The Hall the next afternoon, Heath was out riding and no one answered the door. Since she'd never met her mother as an adult, she relied on the memories of others. In her bag, she kept her fine cashmere scarf, and longed for more information about the woman in the photographs. Katarina knew there were many images of the young Kate in the boxes hidden in the cupboard. The man who had loved her, perhaps as much as her father (if not more), kept these images tucked away, hidden, along with her mother's memory.

Katarina got out of her car. She wore a scarlet coat today and the fierce, biting air made her catch her breath as she walked up to the house. Her dark curls fell in ringlets down her back. The girl took out her mother's old-fashioned film camera. The camera took amazing photographs and she wanted the particular effect film could create. Katarina snapped The Hall in the morning light, from a distance, then close up on the door handle as the gargoyles threatened her.

There was an eerie creak, ever present, when Katarina tiptoed into the house.

Heath suddenly stomped in through the kitchen, taking off his muddy boots in the larder.

'Who's there?' he bawled.

'Just me,' Katarina said softly.

'Oh,' he replied, 'I'd forgotten you were coming. Don't go to the top floor…renovations,' he grumbled, hurrying upstairs to shower and change.

'I just wanted to take your picture…'

'No…' he replied quickly.

He'd always refused to have his photograph taken. It would be a pointless exercise but Katarina was not to know that. She had begun to get used to his mercurial personality and shrugged to herself as she wandered through The Hall. Tucked in a corner, she discovered the Blue Room, which was lit with soft lights, chandeliers hanging from the roof and a hall of mirrors. It was so amazing it had once been featured in architectural magazines.

The girl wandered through the room catching sight of Heath ushering his dog out of the library. As Katarina glanced into the wall of reflections, hers was there but Heath's was missing. Of course, Katarina thought. The strangeness filled her world.

Katarina was nervous, but as she created art by snapping photographs, her nerves disappeared. By mid-morning, it helped that she had not seen a vision of the woman who'd appeared the night of the storm, nor had she heard her. Silence was littered by the sound of paper being ripped and thrown in the rubbish bin once Heath returned from walking the dog. There was a ray of light under the door of Heath's library and Katarina got the feeling he did not wish to be disturbed.

Minutes later, the silence was marked by the loud noise Katarina made, as she unlocked her mother's bedroom with Hinton's key. Inside, the room was all but empty. It was like a danceless ballroom with billowing long curtains in place of skirts and open windows and a wet floor where the rain had swept in, for company. As she stood, breathless, sensing a visitor apart from herself, Katarina heard a chewing sound and a striped boiled sweet wrapper fell from the ceiling onto her hair, like a feather.

Immediately, Katarina looked up; nothing. She noticed the floor around her feet was littered with discarded candy wrappers. They had dropped from the shadows in the roof. Katarina peered closer. In the corner of the large room there was a pile of messy, muddied, riding clothes. The jodhpurs and a jacket appeared to have been recently worn and discarded. As Katarina went to touch the fabric, a bird screeched outside the window. Katarina jumped. She wanted to take a closer look inside the room when she heard a voice behind her and a man took her arm.

'I told you not to go in here,' Heath said.

He was standing to her right, fully dressed for the office.

'Whose clothes?'

Heath led her out of the room.

'Please…just ignore what you see here. Most of it is…old washing. Greta must have left it. I've made us some tea.'

Katarina was so stunned she followed meekly. The interior of the room loomed behind like a secret as they walked downstairs.

Heath seemed oblivious to the anomalies of Hareton Hall. In the kitchen, he was more interested in demolishing the honey soy chicken drumsticks Greta had left sealed in a dish. He ate at least three of these while Katarina stood there, sipping tea, even though it was barely mid-morning.

They observed the view from the parlour of a now famous statue of one of their ancestors (an author or poet, no doubt, Katty thought) that was all but obscured behind a fence. Occasionally, tourists stopped by in summer to take photographs. Sometimes the iron gates would open quicker than they realised and usher those same tourists out of the way. Who knows what these tourists had really seen through the windows.

'I never planned to open the house and grounds up to the public, but with the worldwide financial situation, my advisors convinced me it was the smart thing to do. I want this house to stay in the family…forever,' he added quietly.

Katarina changed the film in her camera as they sat at the table watching day turn to dusk.

'May I?' Katarina took Heath's photograph as he turned to take his car keys from the fruit ball. The crystal bowl was full of peaches and Italian oranges.

'Hinton told me you know our secret. You must have worked it out by now. You can take as many photographs of me as you like. The images won't come out. I have to go to my office, there's something going on at work. Greta is coming around soon. Don't return to the rooms upstairs. They're locked now. Just shut the door when you leave,' Heath said, offering no further explanation. Not fond of idle chit chat, he stood up and walked away.

Katarina was left to ponder her predicament. Then she remembered that Hinton told her he used to scale the wall to his room when he was a child.

Katarina wandered outside. The gardens grew wild. According to her mother's journals, they were once perfectly manicured. Although now unkempt, they appeared lusher than any of her mother's recollections. The wind began to howl as Katarina followed the path from the surrounding grounds of the estate, towards the lap pool (covered in a blanket of leaves) and past the stables. Katarina noticed a few security cameras which unnerved her, but there were no lights on, so she assumed like everything else, they were in a state of disrepair. It was remarkable how useless the cameras would be in tracking the real inhabitants of the estate, Katarina thought, but then she supposed that was not the reason they were installed. At the gates, beyond the stables, Katarina saw her first sign of human life.

There was an elderly groom working with a horse - the other horse remained under cover. Both animals were black and sleek with sweat. It was obvious Heath had not been out riding alone.

'Good Afternoon, Miss. Katarina isn't it?' he mumbled, looking at her quizzically, as if he'd seen a ghost.

'Good Afternoon,' Katarina replied.

'I'm George. I've been working for the Spencers… forever. Greta said you'd be coming. She got held up at her meeting. She collects her grandson from his pre-school on Fridays…'

'Oh,' Katarina said. 'That's okay. The…owner has given me permission to take photographs over there.'

George shook his head as she walked towards the garden. Seconds later, rain started to spit from the sky and Katarina found herself standing near the outside wall that led to the upper floors of the house, contemplating how to climb it.

She'd forgotten it was Friday; she'd promised Linus and Hinton that she'd meet them for dinner tonight. Katarina would have to be quick. She would also try to act as normally as possible with Hinton. They hadn't had a moment alone to talk and Katarina wasn't sure what to say, but she knew she had less and less recollection of her real life outside the family she was beginning to understand. She glanced over her shoulder. George was nowhere to be seen. Quickly, she climbed the wall, using the strength and muscles she'd developed from years of riding. When Katarina reached the window, she lifted the glass easily and crawled through the dusty ledge, landing on her feet inside her mother's old room.

She looked above her, to the roof of the room. It was empty. There was nothing except chandeliers. Then she walked to the hallway and up the stairs. They creaked with every step she took. The girl was compelled to walk higher, to the forbidden floor. Linus had told her where Heath had stashed the keys and she retrieved them from his desk.

When Katarina reached the attic, the door was slightly ajar. The curtains were open and blowing in the wind. Rain splayed the sill. The door did not creak when she pushed it further. The rain stopped; birds sang. Outside, a rainbow appeared. She stood silent as the door quietly closed behind her, untouched.

It was quieter and lighter up here than she imagined. There were no cobwebs. In the corner lay another pile of girls' clothes, used and unused, thrown into a washing basket. At the top of the pile lay the same bunch of riding clothes, recently worn. There were boots with fresh mud on them discarded in the corner of the room.

Kate looked at the carpet; no footprints. Then she looked at the window sill. Mud dripped upon it. An exaltation of larks outside the window announced her intrusion.

The fine hairs on Katarina's arms stood up. When she tried to take a photograph through the closed window, the black covering in her camera froze. The birds hushed and through the silence, Katarina heard only the softness of her breathing and her beating heart. She sighed and leaned into the bar nailed on to the attic wall. It occurred to her then that the whole room had been converted into some kind of ballet studio. There were floor length mirrors along one entire wall. The roof of Hareton Hall loomed above her like one of the great baroque ceilings she'd seen in Italy on a school trip. Only the outside scenery, the wrought iron gate, fragile in the mist, placed her at Hareton Hall as opposed to some kind of Netherworld.

Just then, a bird flew in through the window, startling Katarina who crouched onto the floor. A scream rang out before she realized it was hers. When Katarina stopped screaming, the sound of another breath took over.

Slowly, slowly, Katarina raised her head until she looked directly above her. Hovering in the roof beams was a young woman. Sleeping, eyes closed, hair matted across her eyes, her face was obscured. She was curled up in pink cotton pyjamas and seemed no older than twenty-one although it was difficult to tell in the dark. The tiny hint of a corner cobweb touched the edge of her hair. Her arms were folded across her chest. She was cocooned in a pink, mohair blanket.

Katarina's scream woke her and the hybrid girl somersaulted down from the rafters. In a split second she back flipped off the high beam and landed on her feet. The young woman, a mirror image of Katarina, opened her eyes where she landed. Then she stood and drank in Katarina's face as if she could hardly believe the vision was real. With the threat of tears in her eyes, the beautiful hybrid uncrossed her arms and reached out her hand. She walked towards Katarina with an open palm. In the same moment, her image disappeared into shadows, leaving nothing but air.

The objects in the attic - an antique hairbrush, some ballet shoes in a basket, a used pink towel with cream lace edging, more wrappers of lollipops and sweets - also disappeared in that moment. The only thing Katarina had left was a memory. She stood frozen. Katarina felt sure no one would believe her if she told them what she saw. The girl's face had been identical to her own.

The teenage girl backed out of the room then turned and ran down the stairs, two at a time. Her camera strap was still wrapped around her wrist and she heard the snap in sunlight as the film started automatically, winding again.

George, the groundsman, hovered at the front door.

'The master won't be happy about you wandering through the house alone.'

'He gave me permission to take photographs,' Katarina sniffed. 'Besides, he's not my master!' Katarina added. 'Nor yours. Do you… Do you know what… _who_ is in this house?

George raised his eyes and pulled some leaves out of the rake he held.

'Yes.' He spoke in a thick, Northern accent. Katarina could still hear the high, sweet voice of a Lark, singing in the rafters.

'Did you hear that?' Katarina asked aloud.

He nodded. 'There's been talk of… bloodsuckers here for years. Some like to refer to them as ghosts…makes people feel better I suppose. It's because they're up all night,' he added. The pretty tune stopped and all that remained was the noise of George's rake, as if he'd already forgotten what he said.

Reality seemed to elude all who visited The Hall, except her. Katarina felt sure the secrets held the key to the mystery of her family. The vampire girl in the roof was similar to her and to…her mother. Katarina needed answers.

George simply stared into the distance.

Katarina waited on the front steps. Greta had texted to apologise and re-schedule. It was all that kept Katarina from running away forever. It was late in the day by then and already the sun was setting.

'They say memory is something that exists in a person's mind forever; we just have to know how to unlock it when we forget something.' George said out of the blue.

'You must have a lot of memories of this place,' Katarina replied.

'Oh yes, Miss. What I have seen… ' he sighed as he walked towards the shed.

**Chapter Twenty-seven**

_**The Girl in The Attic**_

Hinton had a bad feeling. He texted Katarina and they agreed to meet in the Glass House. They could go to dinner at The Grange after they'd had a chance to speak. At least outside was safer and, still needing more external shots of the heath in twilight, Katarina lifted the latch of the iron gate. The entrance to the private garden was the exact place she had read about in her mother's journal.

The gate led to a maze that in turn spilt into an abandoned part of the heath. Katarina wore her walking boots as she rambled in her rolled up jeans, a long coat and scarf draped around her shoulders. As the winter evening closed in on her, Katarina buttoned up her coat and pulled the belt tight around her tiny waist. The young girl walked towards the now private arboretum, largely abandoned in winter and known only to those who lived close by. The directions had been detailed in her mother's journal. Her father had taken her there, only once, as a child.

The wind howled and Katarina's camera tossed and whipped around her wrist. She suddenly wished she'd modernized her instrument. If she'd had a passion for digital, the camera would not be so heavy or so much trouble.

Almost immediately and without warning, the air had turned to pre-snow iciness. Katarina could see her breath and soft flecks of powder fell around her feet. Autumn had been so unpredictable this year. As ice began to spit from the sky, Katarina stumbled inside the shelter.

The glass house, located behind a woodland meadow, had been restored in recent years. It was so beautiful that she resolved to take Hinton here. When Katarina thought of Hinton, she smiled. Their tutoring sessions had started playfully enough but then Hinton seemed to improve exponentially. She was certain his initial unfriendliness towards her had been related to his secrets and not his arrogance. It was a wonder Hinton was the person he was, when she considered how many challenges he had had - the loss of his parents, the discovery of his rare needs. She was proud of him. Hinton had the courage to seek acceptance however weird and bizarre his lineage.

Somehow, everything would work out. There was a quote from a Shakespearean sonnet she had read at school that came to mind: _Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds… O no! It is an ever-fixed mark / That looks on tempests and is never shaken…_

The deep thrill she felt inside at the merest thought of seeing him again was unlike anything she had experienced. She wondered if he felt the same and hoped that he did.

Katarina knew for certain that her father would not be happy about her connection to the Spencers, and would never have encouraged their meeting in the first place. In just a few weeks, the course of her life had altered completely. Katarina felt sure of her decision to support Hinton as she sat in the garden seat waiting for him.

Her breath was visible on the glass now. It was heating up as Katarina waited patiently for Hinton who had just texted her to say he was on his way. She unwound her scarf, took off her woollen snood and pulled off her gloves. As she did so, she dropped one of them on the ground and reached to pick it up.

Hadn't Linus, taking into account his stupid theatrical superstitions, once told her, that, "in the theatre a lady should never retrieve her own glove. Instead, she should wait for another to pick it up for her." Katarina, knowing how silly this seemed, reached down for the glove but couldn't find it in the shadows.

Finally, hunched under the chair and looking for the glove, she was confronted with the words of ancient lovers - or they seemed ancient to her.

At the base of the tree, behind the arboretum chair were the words HEATH & KATE 1988 carved into the growing wood. Like a child, Kate wound her fingers over the engraving, forgetting all about her missing glove in the process. An onlooker might have thought the glove had simply disappeared or been taken by a ghost. Outside, the wind drove a branch into the glass wall which frightened Katarina and made her turn around suddenly to see a grown man in a long coat, standing, illuminated by lightening in the darkness.

'Hinton can't come,' Heath said.

Katarina looked up so quickly she slipped and Heath moved and caught her by the arm.

'I came home from the city to collect a file I left. George said you'd be here.'

'I…I was just…'

'Tutoring Hinton? Yes, he told me. He's certainly improving. Well, anything would be an improvement. That boy's spelling is atrocious and no tutor I've paid has ever done anything for him.' Heath seemed annoyed. 'George told me you've been…inside the attic, taking photographs. Good luck, the images won't develop.'

It was time for a little bit of honesty, Katarina thought, as they both walked outside to her Uncle's sleek, waiting car.

'Never mind, there is honour in the attempt,' Katarina said. Heath walked quickly and Katarina asked directly, 'Who is the girl in the attic?'

Heath paused for a moment and then responded. 'She is a hybrid, a human transitioning into a vampire who has lived at Hareton Hall longer than me. There were complications with her transition. It has taken longer than expected. You must know there is strangeness in this… family'

'Yes. So I've gathered. I've been told some things about Hinton. But, I'm not just his tutor. I'm his friend. And it's pretty obvious Hareton Hall is haunted.'

Heath smiled at the use of her old fashioned word.

'The house has always attracted comment,' was all he added.

The sleek Jaguar was waiting on the other side of the park and they seemed to reach the car in double quick time as Heath hurried Katarina along.

'Get in,' Heath said as he reversed the car. 'Listen to me. Hinton is a player. He doesn't have friends who are girls.'

Katarina looked at him sharply. 'Well, he does now.'

There was silence for a moment as Heath digested this.

Katarina changed the subject. 'Is that why I can't see your breath?'

Heath was lost for words for the first time as they drove through the winding road towards her house. He did not answer her question directly. 'Now, there's a bit more of your mother in you,' he responded. 'You can't see my breath… because it's not cold enough.'

'You could see mine. Why is there a… girl in the attic?'

Katarina looked down, jealous that he knew so much more about the cocooned hybrid than she did.

'What do you mean?'

'She looked like me, sleeping on the ledge, and I look like my mother.'

'Katarina… you're imagining things. I can take you there now and the attic will be empty. Yes, it has been said the girl haunts the house but you have to forget this. It will bring you no comfort. You can never touch her or speak to her… or even see her properly. I know Linus took you to one of his wild parties. I can only imagine what they get up to there. You're not…on anything are you? I mean anything that might make you hallucinate.'

'No,' Katarina said quickly.

'Ah… there's the fire.'

'What do you mean?'

'The fire that your mother had in her personality.'

Katarina cringed. 'Is that why you liked her?'

'I, I suppose so,' Heath said.

'Are you going to tell me the truth?'

'I'm going to try, but not now.' he responded.

'When?'

'Soon. In the meantime, read your mother's journal. I know you have it.'

Katarina glanced at Heath incredulously.

The man didn't want to talk any more tonight. This girl was half his age, far too young to understand the depth of his feelings for her mother. He was in no mood for explaining the supernatural. Not now. He was tired; a long day trading stocks and shares will do that to a man.

He was also concerned that the cousins were getting close. It wasn't meant to happen like this, so far out of his control. His son had been given instructions to befriend then dump her, and it wasn't really going to plan now that Hinton had taken it further and just left it at "befriend her". Didn't he realise how much Heath hated her father? How little they owed the Hunts? It was time to end this stupid game.

Heath pulled up suddenly.

'Where are we going?' Katarina asked.

'To The Grange, your father is expecting you. I called him. The dinner date has been cancelled. Hinton and Linus sent me to tell you. Neither of them could get away from having to work late.'

They drove in silence, the short way, before arriving at the gravel driveway of The Grange.

'Would you like to come inside?' Katarina offered. 'It's very warm and cosy compared to The Hall.'

Heath contemplated her offer for a moment. 'I suppose you would think that. But I went to dinner at The Grange once and the atmosphere just about froze ice.'

Katarina looked startled.

'The snow seems to have settled, go on then. You're safe to walk up the path. I'll stay here until you've gone inside.'

Katarina slammed the door loudly as she got out of Heath's car.

Heath was quite annoyed at himself. This young girl was making him less brash, kinder. It didn't suit him at all, and she'd discovered Kate's hiding place and the glass house, which was irritating. How long before she discovered even more secrets?

Once again, Heath didn't like the thought of her becoming too close, though it was his desire that she and Hinton… well, ultimately he wanted The Grange and it hadn't been on the market, ever. Katarina was heir. It was important his plan proceed. Heath was glad she hadn't acknowledged the tree markings he and Kate had carved on that bitterly cold afternoon. It was so long ago now. The girl must have seen them. He longed for a return to those days, for Kate to come back to him. He had waited so long to unlock the past.

In the distance, The Grange reminded him of Annabelle.

**Chapter Twenty-eight **

_**Annabelle **_

The day after the infamous Grange dinner party, Heath decided to ring Annabelle. He asked her to come to dinner with him. Bored with the usual pattern: work, money, a feeding frenzy sated by the local blood bank - he needed a distraction. He'd been denying his true nature for too long, but there was very little alternative in polite society. Besides, Kate had moved on.

He would do the same.

That evening, Annabel arrived at his office in her work clothes. She'd been promoted at the gallery to Publicity Officer and her expensive blue suit shimmered under the lights as Heath gave her a tour of the new company premises. Afterwards, they went to dinner. Every night the following week, they did the same.

Sometimes they met up in Soho near the gallery where Annabelle was working with a more experienced Art Historian. She hoped to manage the gallery one day and Heath was surprised at her entrepreneurial vision. Annabelle was delighted by Heath's availability and newly amenable nature. He was like a new person, genuinely complementary of her work in the gallery, the place Kate one day planned to display some of her pictures.

They'd been going out for about six weeks when they met for lunch in a popular restaurant with long glass windows overlooking the Thames. Annabelle had a frown as she scanned the lunch menu. Heath once preferred pubs but his new job came with an expense account that he felt obligated to use. Annabelle was very impressed with this, but barely ordered anything.

'I'll have the soup please,' Annabelle said to the waiter who seemed unsure, as if it was his first day.

'Typical,' Heath thought, as he noticed Annabelle eating like a bird.

After they'd eaten, Annabelle told him about her day and Heath pretended to be interested. He knew he'd have to try a little harder if he wanted to pass the six-week boyfriend stage with Annabelle.

'Heath…did you hear me?'

Miles away, Heath had tuned out and was staring through the window at the panoramic London views. This was not a good sign. He was wondering how he'd dis-entangle himself from the possibility of an actual relationship with this woman whom he'd thought of as a friend - at worst, a plan. Sensing this, Annabelle did something unusual. She shocked him.

'Did you hear me Heath?'

Annabelle burst into tears as she talked.

Heath, sensing her need, couldn't believe his good fortune. Though never very interested in problems of a female nature, he'd have to make an exception in this instance. The words "unexpected pregnancy" gave him a chance to play the hero, no questions asked and also to get back at the woman he loved. The circumstances were too good to resist. He could take the plan further than he'd initially intended.

'I…I don't know what to do,' she gulped as she talked, irritating Heath who was nothing less than riveted by her out of character tale. It shouldn't have surprised him; Annabelle was needy and unpredictable. She'd barely waited for him to pay for dinner the third time they'd dated before she'd arranged his seduction in a hotel room. He knew he'd become a person Kate disliked and he didn't care. Perhaps his recently acquired egotism needed to be kept in check. The truth was he'd planned for days to spend the night with Annabelle. Still, he hadn't encountered anything but enthusiasm from her. Annabelle was almost entirely predictable and her neediness for his love was no less than riveting to a man who, since Kate's betrayal, was almost entirely devoid of emotion.

He knew Kate would think less of him for having almost no feelings for Annabelle yet taking things further with her. Since Kate had abandoned him and married someone else, he felt she had no right to an opinion. He'd been out clubbing and fanging and going home with whomever, since he'd read Kate's marriage notice in the paper years ago.

Now Heath wanted to use and discard anything and everyone he encountered. Most of all, he wanted to make Kate and her family pay for their transgressions, for leaving him alone as a small child, for beating him and, in Kate's case, for choosing someone else. Annabelle had needed little inducement from Heath to re-form a romantic attachment towards him that had never existed on his part. They had spent the night together after just one bottle of wine. Admittedly, she'd done most of the drinking. He had to give her some credit as she stared at him with her big, tearful eyes. The look of love on her face was implacable.

That night was a distant memory to Heath and he'd purposely not phoned her the next day.

After he'd impressed her with the cheap thrill of an exclusive hotel and his undivided attention, that one night with Annabelle had ended in the usual disappointment as he woke up beside her the next day. He did not need reminding that she was not Kate. Annabelle's arm across his chest represented her neediness, not his. Heath had sat on the lounge chair opposite her after he'd dressed, resisting the urge to run off early and leave her lying there alone.

That morning, a plan had begun to form. He'd left a respectable length of time between the first meeting and trying to impress her at Claridges. This was nothing less than Annabelle was used to, given her spoilt upbringing. He smiled inwardly as he realized she and Kate had at least one thing in common.

She was connected to the only woman he'd ever loved and that connection would serve a higher purpose; revenge.

Heath tried not to dislike her as she sat opposite him in the restaurant. She was attractive enough, nothing like her sister-in-law which really should have been a point in Annabelle's favour. Kate, beautiful and goddess-like, was also disloyal - Heath would never forgive her. He found Annabelle emotionally needy and thus high-maintenance and even a little bit boring, but she also held the keys to The Grange, a property he wished to purchase.

Heath was surprised when Annabelle spluttered out in sobs her baby news. He had been careful and made sure he looked empathetic as he sipped his blood orange juice mixed with Magenta.

He'd learnt to control his desires to drain his lovers, especially the ones he liked and his specialist had warned him that there was a chance he could pro-create. If he did, his offspring would only have a small chance of inheriting his hybrid gene. A boy child would have a sixty percent chance of being a fully-fledged bloodsucker. A girl child would carry the gene but likely be human. Heath hoped for a girl. He'd never want a child to suffer the way he had. He had no idea how he would explain himself to Annabelle. He'd tried to tell her about his freakiness, but she refused to listen. When he was tempted to fang, her meek compliance repelled him, and he held back. She still held little appeal. To Heath, Annabelle was bloodless.

All she said was, 'I know you are different. Kate has warned me but I don't care.'

He knew it was his call - either way Annabelle would raise his child.

'Annabelle, stop crying, there is no need for that,' he said softly, feigning sympathy which Annabelle misinterpreted as empathy. (They should have been more careful. They'd been careful, or so he thought). He'd lately started to read the thoughts of people close to him. It was a habit he'd tried to control but as he tuned in to Annabelle all he could hear in her mind was, 'please offer…please do the right thing…'

Heath stared out the window, bored with the woes of human life. This news should have excited him, he was sure of it. Once, the prospect of creating a family would have been grounding, essential. But now, he just stared into the abyss of eternity, the cruelty of outliving those he raised and dared to love in return.

Heath viewed the river and its many bridges, the skyline along the houses of parliament and thought what a wonderful city to behold. The bloodsuckers who'd come before him had told many stories about Edwardian England. Evenings were filled with tales of beautiful women, dark cobbled lanes, ruby carpeted theatre halls and eager street vendors. His ancestors drank brandy seated around log fires during their cold, mansion nights. And here was the chance to add his lineage.

He realized he was in control and wasn't proud of the fact that he'd made Annabelle feel beholden, when all along he'd wanted something beyond what was obvious to her. Marrying Annabelle would make Kate feel what he felt. The situation was meant to be. He looked towards the boats and the line of the shore that carried cargo and supported both ancient buildings and high rises. He wondered how far one of those boats could carry him if he kidnapped Kate and forced her to stay away from her poisonous family and all that was familiar until she was his, and only his, forever more. He thought about the time he'd gone to meet her in the glass house and wished they'd never parted.

He paused before he spoke. In his fantasies, the only source of comfort to him was a reversal of betrayal.

'Here, dry your tears,' he said, handing Annabelle an unused handkerchief.

Annabelle pressed it under her eyes.

'I have a solution. Your child shall have a father, Annabelle. We'll get married. I brought you here today to tell you…well, to ask you to marry me anyway. I'm not suggesting for a minute that this hasn't surprised me, but we needn't let it derail our lives…'

Annabelle looked at him with a surprised expression on her face. She used an old-fashioned phrase, "You could have knocked me over with a feather," when she announced her intentions to Kate later that evening, just as Heath imagined she would. He only wished he could have seen Kate's face when Annabelle told Kate that Heath had asked her to marry him and that she'd said "yes". Kate had guessed Heath was up to something but she also knew there was nothing she could do. She was married to Edmund now, she was having his child.

Over breakfast a week later, Edmund raised the subject of Annabelle with his wife.

'I feel as if I have lost a sister,' Hunt said, as he read the finance news. 'But never mind, she will come to her senses, eventually - and when she does I shall not be so forgiving. I think I shall re-structure the family trusts, make it harder for him to get his hands on her property… '

'Annabelle is pregnant,' Kate said, her hand on her own expanding stomach.

Hunt put down his newspaper, but delivered the calm, rational words Kate had come to expect from him.

'Then I suppose it will be a while before we see her again.'

The wedding was a lavish affair. The impending nuptials were announced in the most conservative broadsheet newspapers and covered in all the glossy magazines. Kate attended, of course, in a pink silk dress, fashionable and ruched at the shoulder. It was a close family affair and Hunt had told Kate she must attend.

Kate couldn't describe how she felt, sitting in the reception as the young couple danced their first dance. They looked amazing together - Annabelle so blonde and pretty like the sun, Heath so dark and handsome, like night.

**Chapter Twenty-nine **

_**Glass House**_

In retrospect, he had tried to show enthusiasm for the marriage.

As they grew apart, Annabelle was unaware they'd never really been together, except as friends and briefly, lovers. If his wife had ever asked, he would have told her everything. Deep down, he knew the truth; Annabelle didn't want to know.

Work was always his excuse.

The office needed him - the businesses. The family fortune required overseeing now that Harrison had drunk himself into despair and lost most of the shares that had remained in his name. Harrison sold the rest to Heath's company for a third of what they were worth. Of this recent business deal, he was not ashamed. He knew Kate, whom he hadn't spoken to for months, would be angry at him for stooping to Harrison's level.

The adoption of Hinton had not brought the family any closer together and Heath made more excuses to stay out of the house. Heath's career was escalating and he was expanding the company overseas, preparing to leave London for Asia for three months.

'I'm asking you not to go,' Annabelle said. 'It's too soon with the baby.'

'Well Annabelle, you knew where this was going when you married me. I can't abandon my career; it's important.'

'For what? You've earned more money than we could ever use and you have mine. You've spent half your life trying to get back at Harrison, now you've succeeded. You own his house, his companies.'

'Co-own. Remember it's mortgaged.'

'The same thing, you will own it. And my brother, you won't even speak to Hunt.'

'It is an understatement to say we didn't get along at school…'

'But we are adults now, Heath; I just want you to forget…'

Annabelle put her hands on her husband's face. Normally her blood did not appeal to him overly, but he hadn't taken his vitamins and was low on plasma. He pushed her hand away, afraid the yearning to feed and munch on the cool blue vein in her wrist would repel her. If only he could share with her his longings, his issues, himself. Perhaps the marriage would have had a chance. But, let's face it, she wasn't Kate. He knew Annabelle would run from him when she discovered the truth. He was sure of it.

Annabelle, for her part, suspected Heath was not normal from the earliest days of their marriage. She thought he might need therapy but he brushed her away when she tried to talk to him about his mood swings, as she called them. He'd always been cold towards her, Annabelle realized in retrospect. She had thought Hinton and the baby would bring them together but after he'd satisfied himself that the foetus would be "normal" (going so far as to take her to a strange specialist in Harley Street when she seemed overly fond of lamb chops), Heath had distanced himself from her once again.

Every person was worthy of love. It seemed to Annabelle that Heath had received more from the marriage than she had. Annabelle only expected her husband to love her, yet he made her feel unworthy. Sometimes he looked at her as if she was air and Belle caught him looking at Kate's old photographs more than once. Annabelle didn't even want to think about her sister-in-law. She was sure it was their love that had wrecked her marriage. On other occasions she realised that Heath was the sort of man who would have found it hard to make any marriage work.

Belle regretted the loss of her only female friend. She missed being close to her sister-in-law. Months earlier, Kate had pleaded with Annabelle not to marry Heath and Annabelle hated to admit Kate was right.

'He only wants to hurt you…he wants to hurt me.'

'How can you say that, Kate? Why do you think you are the only person worthy of love?' Annabelle asked.

'It's not like that,' Kate had replied.

'Not like what?'

'Heath and I…we grew up together…I know him. He's not like other people, he's…different…' Annabelle misunderstood her intentions almost entirely.

'He still loves you…doesn't he?'

'I…I don't think Heath's capable of love anymore…he…uses women and he's not above using you for his own purposes,' Kate had warned her.

'What purposes? He's already got his own money. Yes, our family is wealthy but so is Heath…'

'It's not like that. He wants ownership, power. First it was Harrison, now it's Edmund… once he marries you, he controls you. He wants to hurt me…promised me he'd get me back, for marrying Edmund…'

'Why did you marry my brother, Kate? I've always wondered…'

'Because… I loved him.'

'Because you loved him or because you needed him? Heath wasn't there and my brother was! Well now I need someone Kate and you can't stop me from being with him…'

'I'm trying to warn you… he will make your life very difficult Annabelle.'

Annabelle had packed her suitcase.

'Promise me you'll give me a chance, Kate. Stay away from us until after the baby is born.'

'If that is what you wish, Annabelle, but you are making an enormous mistake. You barely know this person. Heath is not like you. He's strong but angry and he's vengeful. He'll take all of his frustrations out on you…'

'I don't care,' Annabelle raged for the first time in her life. 'I love him.'

Kate was not surprised and she wished her sister-in-law well but suddenly they were like strangers in the same room.

'You know what your words do Kate? They make me more anxious than ever to leave this house…tonight.'

Kate sat on the bed; she knew she had tried to reveal Heath's full nature to Annabelle but it had backfired. In fact, she'd made the situation worse. Kate had just alienated her only female friend.

'I cannot say I'm surprised,' Hunt said later. 'I spent hours trying to talk her out of the marriage last night, but there was nothing to be done.'

Edmund leaned in to kiss his wife on the cheek. Kate pulled away.

'Annabelle is very determined to make this mistake,' Kate said.

One night, after they were married, unable to contain himself as Annabelle kissed him, Heath sunk his fangs into her neck (the taste of her blood was expectedly bitter to him). He knew, even after she'd fled the house, they could never be friends again.

Annabelle, endlessly forgiving, wanted to try but he could never explain his true condition or his sense of unworthiness. There seemed little point, especially after Annabelle had finally lost it and screamed at him for being a freak. The next day, Annabelle fled to Cornwall and the family estate. It was just until the baby was born, or so she'd said.

He didn't blame Annabelle. He was glad, in some ways, to see the back of her. He was becoming exactly what he was born to be, an animal. Soon there would not be a shred of humanity left in him. He littered his wardrobe with discarded packets of plasma and when the maid found the empty packages she screamed. He wasn't proud of who he was or what he'd done but after his wife left, he reconnected with his specialist and had a new elixir designed for him, Magenta Plus. This liquid began to control the variant in his condition.

When Annabelle returned to Hareton Hall, she occupied a separate bedroom. Heath was surprised Annabelle didn't leave him permanently. His wife had reverted to type and wanted to keep up appearances at all costs. Heath could read her thoughts by the time she returned and he knew she would run off once the baby was born, perhaps return to The Grange, but never to him. He thought she would leave again after catching him gorging discarded plasma from a plastic bag after a particularly long day at the office. He'd married her for all the wrong reasons; to get back at Kate and Hunt; to possess her and her property. Who could blame her? He'd respect her more for leaving. Deep down, he should have been more careful, controlled himself more around her. He resolved not to be such a fang freak in the bedroom.

In truth, he was surprised Annabelle had stayed as long as she had. He knew she only tried for the sake of the baby and he wished he could be a better man for her, could love her even, but his heart always belonged to someone else.

After she left, everyone left. Heath stopped taking his medication and began to drink too much elixir again. This resulted in an imbalance in his system and disturbing side-effects. He craved blood…human blood but had learnt how not to kill, how to just take enough, how to control himself. This control came from the part of him that was still fully human.

Heath started to bring home girlfriends, randomly. This was an easy thing to do since he was so good-looking and hugely rich. None of them compared to Kate. Always, Heath was dissatisfied.

Greta was disgusted by his immoral behaviour and resigned, telling him to join a twelve step recovery program and get himself back on track with his medication. She sent his Harley Street specialist for a home visit the day she left and whispered that she would call to check on him in a few days to re-negotiate the details of her employment contract.

During that time, Heath detoxed and was put under careful observation until he finally got himself back on track. He did some soul searching. In truth, none of the Spencers appeared to make good husbands, yet he wasn't a Spencer, not really. He contemplated researching his bloodline but that would take him far from Kate and he didn't want to leave her again. Though they hadn't spoken for weeks, he knew she was close by at The Grange.

It had been six months since he'd seen Kate and Greta had told him news of her pregnancy. After Heath married, he'd sent her running back to her weak and irritating husband. At the time, he was glad to see Kate go. He'd watched her turn and run out of the arboretum that night. He thought she deserved his indifference and was glad to bestow it upon her.

Only he hadn't felt indifferent afterwards.

He could still feel her under his skin. With every breath, he thought of her, couldn't stop dreaming about her. He felt she must be feeling the same. His senses were more acute, even though he'd been denying them.

**Chapter Thirty**

**First Night**

At the Grange, Kate was finalizing new sketches for another play. There was talk of working on designs for the Art direction of a big American film that was being made over summer not far from Hampstead.

Kate wrote all her fears and longings in her journals, something she had enjoyed doing since her earliest memories were recorded. She placed the journals in a space at the back of her wardrobe.

Her own pregnancy gave her some comfort, although she couldn't help but feel somehow the child growing within her was an alien. Occasionally, she went walking across Hampstead Heath holding the tiny hand of Katarina, who had just begun to toddle. Her daughter gave her endless hours of joy.

As she leant down to pull her child's knitted hat over Katarina's lush, dark curls, Kate was struck by her resemblance to Heath. It was impossible for him not to know. Edmund did. He had told her he didn't care; that they should marry anyway and start a family of their own; that Heath had likely been killed or disappeared never to return. They'd been hunting hybrids back then. This was a few years before the Vampire Act had been passed giving hybrids the same rights as humans, theoretically.

Edmund Hunt had been a good, kind, loving husband and father. He doted on little Katarina who adored him. Yet, Kate was haunted by her decision.

Kate longed to go back in time, to the night she and Heath had run away and they had married as teenagers in love in the tiny church in Chelsea. They had spent barely one night together before the note was delivered that had revealed a possible connection, a lie that changed everything.

'To everlasting love,' Heath had toasted her in the tiny pub, 'and my beautiful wife. I love you Kate Spencer and I will love you forever.'

Kate smiled, knowing she felt the same, knowing that in that moment there was nothing she loved more than secret marriages and the man before her. The love of her dreams sat later on their hotel bed, with its new mattress and sheets. Heath's perfect chest revealed his hard body, forbidden beauty and immense yet dangerous perfection. Heath had nuzzled into her wrist as Kate wound her body around his. She was sure he was tempted to bite but he never did. It was almost as if they were the same person. That night, they lay together on the bed, the vial of elixir half-empty.

'It worked,' Kate said. 'And you stayed in control…sort of,' she smiled, rubbing her wrist where the nuzzle of Heath's lips had left a slight red mark. Heath felt human and invincible, sleepy for the first time in years. 'I love you,' Kate said.

They were simple words but Heath had waited a lifetime to hear them.

'There is nothing I can say to that, except, I love you more,' he said, kissing her again. Kate could not believe that was true.

They bathed and dressed for dinner, contemplating their imminent return to the world as husband and wife. Kate was pale at the prospect and began to look less like the honeymooning bride and more like a frightened school girl as she contemplated their departure from the hotel. Heath took his pills and drank some plasma outside on the balcony. Kate remembered the note that contained not a shred of truth. The words had been for Heath's eyes only.

Kate thought about the truth as she gathered wildflowers with Katarina. Harrison had always played hard and fast with his lies. But of course, the letter he'd written was the reason she and Heath had parted; the reason Kate had sought sanctuary on that skiing holiday; the reason she'd had time alone to imagine herself with Edmund. The tests were arranged and were conclusive. Harrison had lied. But the whole process took more than a month and in the meantime, Heath disappeared. She was told he had died, most likely from exposure and lack of blood.

_And there he lives_, Kate thought, as she glanced over at Hareton Hall from the safe distance of the Arboretum.

Inside The Hall, Heath sat listening to his telephone messages on that day.

He hadn't seen Kate's face for a long time. Greta occasionally took Hinton to the park to play with his cousin. Heath didn't know about this. Kate always asked after them.

When Hinton turned three, Harrison fled the Guest house, a crazy drunk. He had mostly left Hinton with Greta once Hinton's desire to bite had become almost uncontrollable. Hinton displayed many of the characteristics that Heath had. A mild form of Magenta sated his thirst. Neither Harrison nor Frances understood the child's condition and were happy when Greta agreed to keep him with her. After Frances disappeared in Paris, Harrison went mad. He drank all day and refused to hold down any kind of work.

Heath stepped in and offered to adopt Hinton along with the house and Harrison couldn't have cared less by then. Although the specialist assured Heath the Spencers were not even a distant genetic relation, Heath knew somehow, he and Frances had once been related. Heath felt closer to Hinton, who ate hungrily in the kitchen. Hinton was blissfully unaware of all that had become of his family. He gravitated towards Heath, a father and fellow bloodsucker. Heath hoped the world Hinton grew up in would be more accepting than the one he'd had to hide in, as he shared a piece of chicken with the child who gnawed hungrily with his first teeth and gave Heath a winning smile.

**Chapter Thirty-one **

_**Revelations**_

Once Kate heard about the trouble in Annabelle's marriage, Kate decided it was time to speak to Heath, alone.

Kate was rugged up in her usual riding gear and had the car keys in her hand, making a rattling noise which woke her sleeping husband. She'd woken up early and told Edmund that she was going for a walk.

'At six in the morning, darling?' he asked sleepily. 'Should you really be going out in your condition? The air is like ice outside.'

'Of course,' Kate said. 'I have the car. I intend to walk the easy path. It's my new regime,' she said, sarcastically. 'Besides, exercise is good for the baby. Now go back to sleep…darling,' she added as an afterthought.

Kate pulled on her overcoat and looked into the mirror. At eighteen, when Kate had married Edmund, she'd felt older than her years. Now she was barely twenty-one and she had never told Heath why she had married Edmund so quickly; never told Heath why the pictures hadn't been splashed all over the papers; why the marriage hadn't been announced. He probably guessed and didn't care. There were so many mistakes that had been made and more than enough time to put them right, even if somebody got hurt in the process. They were meant to be together and that was that. She had telephoned him, asked him to meet her.

When Heath arrived at the glass house, having pulled up in one of his sleek sports cars, Kate knew she had to gauge his behaviour.

She moved to touch him but he pulled away and turned his face. Kate wondered if he had already fed that morning on Magenta or… if his tastes had become more refined and… diverse. Kate would have offered her blood to him there and then if she'd felt it would fix the situation between them and not harm the baby.

'Why did you want to meet me here Kate?' Heath asked in a weary tone. Heath noticed her messed up hair.

'Look at you. You've just got out of Hunt's bed. I never thought I'd see the day…'

'Heath…he's my husband…If it makes you feel any better, we have separate bedrooms.'

Heath's eyes combed her face, her body, her round belly hidden under the coat. Kate must have thought he was really stupid.

'Why do you need to talk to me when you've got him?'

'I needed to see you again.'

Kate touched his hand, and all the emotions were like before. She could not deny this passion and Kate wondered if Heath felt the same.

If he did, he didn't show it.

'I'm asking you not to…hurt Annabelle. She's been a good sister-in-law to me, a good friend to us both.'

'Oh, this is rich, sticking up for the other woman. What do you call this then? I'm sure if she knew we were meeting in secret she'd be thrilled,' Heath added sarcastically. Then he moved towards Kate. At first, it seemed like he was going to kiss her. Instead, he was distracted by the baby's heart beat and placed his hands over his ears.

'Having a baby…makes it impossible for me to leave now. It does not mean I love you less.'

Heath looked at her, 'And you brought me here to tell me that? As if I didn't already know? How could you Kate? You should have waited for me. I just wanted proof that Harrison had lied, and then nothing would have kept me away from you.'

'I…I know,' Kate said, weeping.

He was so angry he moved to shove her, but thought better of it, though she didn't resist his touch or step back. Instead he moved in close, swayed almost as if he was going to kiss her. Kate moved towards him at the same time.

'Now, we meet as equals, Mrs Hunt,' Heath said. 'Now you get to be the jealous one.'

That was the problem. Heath had all but ignored her since the night after the dinner party. The closeness of her, the nearness of her almost touch, was enough to set him off. His mouth watered, his teeth sharpened. Kate stumbled and moved to sit down.

'A fine mess we have made of our lives,' she whispered. She looked at Heath and realized her love for him was like the air that surrounded them, ever-changing but eternal, always. Her love for Heath transcended time and space and even themselves. She couldn't believe it had been so fragile, that she had been foolish enough to believe it would survive betrayal. Now Heath was married to another and gone forever.

Kate moved to stand up but sat down again, quickly.

'Are you alright?' Heath asked, suddenly spooked.

'Yes, I'm…I'm just upset, that is all. Please, Heath, don't go, please come. Put your arms around me one last time. I…I would give up Hunt if only you'd ask me to.'

And it was then, that Heath realized he'd finally gotten to her.

Now was his chance.

'You must be kidding,' Heath said. 'Do you really think I'd want you now? About to give birth to another man's child…'

'I wish it were your child,' Kate said.

'Well, it isn't,' Heath said, 'and I don't want you,' he lied.

Kate withdrew her hand.

'Please don't be like that.'

'It was you, Kate, with all of your stupid airs and graces, the minute you were poisoned by the Hunts, you came to believe yourself one of them, better than the rest of us, better than me with my eternal…curse. I longed for immortality once but only to share it with you.

'Share it with me now…'

'You'd have to be joking. You're not thinking straight in your…condition. You are so selfish you can't even put your child first.'

'Not now…later, after the baby is born.'

'Forget it. No matter how miserable you are, you belong to him now…'

'Never.'

'And I have made another choice…'

'I don't believe you.'

'Oh, I could never lie to you and tell you I love Annabelle. I don't even like her, though I've tried hard enough. But hating you, Kate…is almost as good as loving you and how I have wished for this moment, to see you as you really are…empty and alone but for your selfish choices.'

'It was not selfish, Heath. I couldn't find you.'

'You should have looked harder.'

'I did. But I was lied to…Harrison convinced me you no longer lived.'

'Well, he was wrong and he's always plotted against us. You were foolish to believe him in the first place.' Heath said, the morning's gorge from the blood bank fresh in his veins. He felt empowered. There was strength in such a lack of desire.

'It was your fault too,' Kate said, 'for leaving me, for doubting us.'

Heath remained silent. 'Harrison swore we were…blood relations…'

Kate looked shocked.

'But it is not true. Here,' Heath said, he unfolded a paper from his pocket. 'There is no connection. I also spoke to my…mother. It appears my biological father disappeared one night after drinking… the blood of others. He has not been sighted since. Heath pulled out his original birth certificate, written in Spanish. The date was clear.

'I'm a year older than I thought.'

'Oh Heath, what have we done?'

'If I did wrong, we both did wrong and now you are paying for it. Revenge is sweet.'

'Really? Greta used to say revenge is a dish best served cold.'

'Well, she always had a cliché at the ready.'

Both the lovers were spent in their argument.

'Please…Heath… Don't do anything you will regret.'

'Like what? Like leaving Annabelle? No, Annabelle will go of her own accord just like all the women in this family. I'm surprised it has taken her this long to work out that I only married her to hurt you and get my hands on The Grange.'

'I don't believe that. Annabelle loves you. She won't go anywhere unless you force her to.'

'She's left me once already. You really think you can control all our lives Kate? I despise you for marrying Hunt. I despise you for not believing in me enough to wait.'

'I… never stopped believing in you. I never stopped loving you. I wanted to do what was best for… Katarina.'

'And yet you married another.'

'I was told you'd gone forever!'

'Mmm… a convenient excuse. How could you ever be with another man?' Heath spat.

'Like I said, he's my husband.'

'I was your husband.'

'I know, but we were so young, I thought you'd changed your mind, abandoned me.'

'Stop, stop crying. This is not the Kate I wish to see.'

'It is the one you created. I have never stopped loving you…will never stop loving you Heath,' Kate said as she stood up, 'but I think this argument is going nowhere, Edmund.'

'Ah yes, the wonderful Hunt.'

'Don't be jealous. He has never taken your place.'

'That's exactly what he has done,' Heath laughed bitterly.

'When I first saw you, Heath, I loved you. It is almost as if we are the one soul and that doesn't change, no matter what. After the baby is born I want to be with you, forever.'

Kate stood in the open doorway of the glass house as the wind began to howl and swept up her hair. 'I can see there is no point in continuing to discuss this until then.'

'You sound just like him.'

'And you have become so much worse, swindling Harrison out of his own fortune, marrying my sister-in-law to hurt me.'

'Your brother was a vicious drunk and a liar. He deserved it. Besides, it wasn't a difficult thing to accomplish and Annabelle knew what she was getting herself into.'

'And making his child your own.'

'Hinton needed a home after he was abandoned by his own father.'

'A home? You sent him to boarding school.'

'From where he shall return once he is educated.'

'Educated enough to run wild like you and I did? I could never bear to let my child be that far away from me. And as for Annabelle, I've seen the scars on her wrist where you bit her.'

'She asked me to. She thinks blood sucking is more of a kink and less of a need.'

Kate shook her head. 'I can see we're getting nowhere with this conversation.'

'Everything that went wrong Kate, we did to each other. If you had just waited…if you had just believed in me like you promised you would…we said we'd never abandon one another.'

'You abandoned me.'

'I never stopped loving you.'

'…Until now.'

'You married another.'

'So did you.'

Heath shook his head, 'To make you pay…'

'I must go.'

'Yes,' Heath said, 'your husband must miss you.'

'I see you are determined to stay with Annabelle and ruin all our lives.'

Heath raised an eyebrow angrily, 'She is my wife.'

'Just don't hurt her,' Kate said as she walked away. She did not wish to tell him the full truth about their child tonight. It had been a mistake to call him. Heath was left in the dark once again; his vow of revenge seemed hollow and pointless.

**Chapter Thirty-two**

_**Birth **_

Nights later, Kate woke in the dark. Her stomach grumbled as she listened to the rain lick the roof. It was two in the morning. Hunt was sleeping soundly, as Kate crept silently to the wardrobe and removed her long, winter coat, her woollen hat, scarf and gloves. Instead of slippers she slid on her waterproof boots as she prepared for the winter night after many months of clear weather. Kate could hardly breathe she felt so cooped up. She couldn't explain her need to get out of the house. Her mind was overworked. She was not thinking clearly. Kate wished she had told Heath about Katarina. She woke up, dreaming of Heath and thought if she didn't get a breath of fresh air there was no way she'd have the strength to deliver the child that kicked inside her. She knew Heath had rejected her, yet she was compelled to find him.

Kate grabbed the keys to her car then realized she probably shouldn't drive. Besides, her car was at the garage getting serviced. She knew Edmund's Range Rover would make a loud scraping noise coming out of the gravel driveway. Instead, Kate walked quietly downstairs, found the keys to the house in the kitchen and walked very quietly out the door. It was a good distance from the Grange yet she knew a shortcut across the heath towards Hareton Hall that she hadn't used in months. She needed to see Heath again; she would wait for him - forever, if she had to. Tell him it was a mistake, that they belonged side by side, that she never wished to be parted from him again.

Kate was not prepared for the cold air that slapped her face as she stepped into the night. She wasn't far from the beginning of the trail that led between the two houses and she was sure she could find it. Rain started to spit down and the irrational part of Kate did not think about the stupidity of walking in the dark, alone, in her condition.

The manicured garden formed a pattern - a maze that she remembered from childhood -and led the exact way across the heath towards Hareton Hall. The lone house was filled with secrets and lies. Kate was determined to find Heath, to talk to him about Katarina, to make him understand that she had made a stupid mistake. She knew this track, knew the way by dark and from memory.

Kate peered through the midnight air. She caught her breath for the first time in hours and pulled her overcoat tight around her. Kate knew she shouldn't do it, but she thought, if she could just get a glimpse of her old home, the place she now missed, the only place she really belonged to, everything would be all right. She'd had a bad dream, about herself, about Heath and the baby. She needed to know that Heath was alright, needed to tell him about Katarina and wanted to see him again. It had been almost a week since they'd talked. Kate walked on.

The baby stirred inside her and the rain spat down suddenly but softly from the sky. Kate kept going as crystal tears, like the ones from her childhood, began to roll down her cheeks. She put one foot in front of the other, driven. The wind howled, the night closed in on her. She stumbled and hit her head on the rocks. Kate was as far from The Grange as she was close to The Hall. The pain was unbearable as she screamed into the dark.

Hunt woke, restless in the night.

'Kate,' he called.

He wondered which part of the house his beautiful, thankless wife had roamed off to. He saw that her cream dressing gown lay crumpled on a chair and something about the emptiness of the room, the silence in the hallway, bothered him. Hunt got out of bed, put on his slippers in his ordered way and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

'Kate,' he called again, 'Kate.'

In response, there was howling wind and an open window. He walked over to pull it down and latch it shut as the rain fell and the wind seemed to gather momentum. Then he noticed his keys were missing, which meant his wife had gone out driving (a ridiculous notion given that she could barely fit behind the wheel) or walking in the rain. Hunt was beside himself with worry and looked at the telephone. He knew where she had gone just as surely as if she had told him herself. Although the last thing he wanted was to talk to his sister, he picked up the receiver and dialled Hareton Hall.

Heath never expected a call in the middle of the night so he hadn't bothered to take the telephone off the hook. He couldn't believe someone would bother to ring so he tried to ignore the noise until, restless and unable to sleep himself, he picked up the telephone.

'Yes,' he said, sleepily and irritated. Annabelle was asleep at the other end of the hall but woke when she heard raised voices. Belle wandered into the room, wrapped in a blanket.

Heath had spoken only a few sentences before he handed the phone to Annabelle and left the room. He dragged on his boots, riding britches and a long coat. He'd had barely any time to dress because he knew, as surely as if Hunt had told him, where Kate was.

'Is it Kate? What's wrong?'

'She's gone missing. Your brother said she'd been acting strange. She's been cooped up. He's worried she was coming here and something's happened…here, you talk to him…'

'Shouldn't you ring the police?'

'It will be hours before they do anything, but yes, you do that. I'm going out, I think I know where she might have gone - it will be quicker.'

It was moments later that Annabelle realised Heath had picked all of this information up from one sentence. If Annabelle hadn't known better she would have said her husband was a mind reader. Annabelle looked both put out and worried as she walked over to the telephone.

Heath could read Hunt's mind but he'd also dreamt about her. He dreamt about Kate every night.

In his dream they were running along Hampstead Heath together. They were children, again. It was summer. They were bare footed and laughing as the sun shone. Heath only needed a hat and sunglasses. His dream became a nightmare as the sky darkened and the rain came down and Kate, older, turned to him with rain on her face and said, 'Remember…when I'm missing to look harder. I'll be there… I love you…I'll always love you. When you find me we'll be together…forever.'

Then he must have woken and fallen asleep again and in the next dream he was lying in Kate's old room with all her photographs on the dressing table where she'd left them, trying to sleep but constantly woken up by a tap at the window. Rain poured down and the rattle of her tiny fingers became harder and louder until the glass shattered and a voice, Kate's voice snarled, 'Let me in, let me in!' Her neck was red with blood, her skin white as snow. Venom-filled fangs were bared as she hissed…_I've been away for eighteen years_…'

Heath had woken and gone to touch the small hand of his beloved but just as her icy fingertips moved on the broken glass of the window pane, cut and bloody, she disappeared.

Rain poured down as Heath walked, ran, and then merged speedily through the park. The meadow was becoming an ocean of water and mud.

'Kate! Katherine!' Heath yelled, shining a torch into the mist. 'Katherine!' He merged faster then ran towards the glass house. A bundle of shawl, overcoat, boots and wet hair lay waiting for him, shivering in the shelter. There was a gash on her forehead. Heath walked to her and put his arms around her, holding her in an embrace that locked them together like one person.

'Kate, my darling Kate, what have you done? No one knew where you were. You shouldn't have gone out on a night like tonight…'

Kate looked pale and her face was wet from the rain and cold which was perhaps even worse. He knew he had to normalize her body temperature and although he was getting colder by the day, his coat would warm her. He bundled her up inside it.

'I'm taking you to the car, Kate. I parked it not far from here. I knew where you would be.'

Kate stumbled to her feet as Heath helped her. 'You wouldn't speak to me, Heath. You stopped talking to me…'

'I was desperate. I tried to forget you.'

'I know. We've both made mistakes…'

'I should never have left you. It's all my fault…'

'No, it's mine,' Kate said, half delirious. 'Oh Heath, I came back to you…' She put her arms around his neck. He leant in and whispered, 'I never stopped loving you'. Her voice was fading. Then she curled up in pain and cried. Heath scooped her up and lifted her from the ground. Normally, carrying a heavily pregnant woman would be difficult but Kate was surprisingly light.

'We have to get you home, get you warm,' Heath said.

'I'm…I'm sorry. Forgive me for what I did. I made a mistake, should never have married Hunt…but Katarina…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'I know, you're delirious.' He placed his hand on her brow, worried that her skin was burning. 'None of that matters now…'

'It is…as if we are the same person…I cannot exist without my love…I cannot exist without you…'

'Nor I you,' Heath whispered but it wasn't clear if Kate could hear him. He knew he had to get her to a doctor, quickly.

Heath bundled her into the car and rang emergency.

'Kate, you're not thinking straight. Try to stay awake. We're almost…there,' Heath looked over, and touched her forehead which was still warm but Kate's eyes were closed, she was slumped into the seat belt and her breath was laboured.

**Chapter Thirty-three**

_**Reborn **_

Heath had stayed with Kate in her room and refused to be moved until Hunt barged in and demanded to see his wife. Heath was asked to leave. He reluctantly agreed to wait in the hall after he was assured by the nurses that Kate would live through the night and the child would be safe.

At six in the morning he was told the child had been born and both mother and baby were sleeping. Relieved, Heath sighed. Hunt walked out of the room and said, 'She wanted to see you. They say she will be alright…she's sleeping now. I have a son.'

Afterwards, when he had assured himself Kate was resting peacefully, Heath went home, and fell asleep on the couch as the sun came up. He was wrapped in Kate's old blanket. Greta pulled the drawing room curtains shut, shielding him from the harsh light that made his pale skin sizzle.

Greta woke Heath from a slumber he never thought he'd fall into, almost as if he were drugged from lack of sleep. Greta had her coat wrapped around her. Her face was downcast yet welcoming. Heath's mind was a sea of nothingness. Morning rose like a cloud as the faintest trickle of sun shone through the imminent afternoon storm that would lead to yet another wild night.

Heath rubbed his eyes.

'How is she?'

'The baby, the boy, is well and healthy. They have named him Edmund after his father. Annabelle has gone to help her brother with the baby…'

'I wasn't asking about the child.' Heath said wearily.

'I know you weren't. Kate is weak. She asked to be transferred home, she asked for you.'

Heath pulled on his sweater and drove with Greta back to The Grange. He'd never had any desire to come here again, to the house with perfectly manicured gardens. Heath had always preferred the wild, unkempt beauty of Hareton Hall. The Grange held no secrets, until now.

Hunt was standing at the door.

'Oh,' he said, 'it's you. She's been asking for you, they say there is nothing I can do except let her rest. She lost a lot of blood but she insisted on coming home. There is a medical team with her…'

Heath knew she hadn't meant her home, here, at The Grange. He knew she'd meant her childhood home, Hareton Hall.

In Hunt's arms lay a sleeping baby with fair hair, like Edmund's. Heath brushed past Hunt and the baby and bounded up the stairs, two at a time.

Kate lay on the bed covered in a pale duvet. Her pain was dulled by the drip in her arm. Kate smiled when she saw Heath.

'Oh Heath, you've come back to me,' she whispered as he leant over her.

Kate pulled him into her, his warm, strong body giving her the strength to speak.

'I wanted to see you one last time…'

'Quiet Kate…you need to rest.'

'Plenty of time for that,' she whispered. 'I wanted to say how much…I loved you…love you still and that I have paid for my mistake…'

'Quiet Kate, it is I who has paid also…for loving you…'

'No…no…you don't understand,' Kate leant in close to him '…the baby is your child. I've named her Katarina. Please…please don't take her from Hunt. I know he will be a…good father, but I wanted you to know the truth before I…so you can always keep a close…eye on her… my last wish is for Hunt to raise her Heath…because…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'You're delusional. I know…all that is past.'

Heath tried to hide his anger.

Kate continued, 'I know how…ambitious you are… there would be no place for a child in the world you seek…and because I know it will be hard for you to raise her, reminding you of me. Hunt will love her… as if she is his own.'

Heath pushed his face into Kate's cheek.

'No Kate, you are talking madness. Don't leave me…don't leave us…'

'I can't…stay,' she swallowed. 'I'm so tired…no choice…' A tear dropped down Heath's face and onto her lips, paler than chalk. 'I want you to know, there was no one in this world I loved more than you and I will love you beyond this earth.'

'Don't go…' Heath whispered, 'Fight…'

'I dreamt, when I was under the anaesthetic, when they took the baby…I dreamt that I didn't go to Heaven, Heath…'

'Stop talking this way, Kate.'

'I dreamt that I stayed with you…forever…here at The Hall…'

'You're at The Grange, Kate.'

Kate continued, deliriously. 'I dreamt that I haunted you…and we went to the heath every day and lay in the sun and it didn't hurt us… we rode our horses…and had picnics and…raised Katarina…and it was as it always should have been. I never cared about…my career or travel or any of those things you enjoyed…I only ever wanted to be loved by you…to love…you. We are the same person you and I. We were never meant to be parted.'

'No,' Heath said, 'Kate, Kate,' he whispered '… I love you. I cannot live without you…'

'Then don't…' Kate whispered. 'Turn me…make me like you. I know you can do it…'

Heath held her to him gently, trying to will the life back into her aching, bruised body but her breath was fading. There was blood on the sheets when she coughed. When her breathing stopped the medical staff wrestled Kate from Heath and started administering every possible remedy to her lifeless body until there was nothing further to be done.

Kate, in her breathless whisper, asked everyone to leave; she only wanted Heath.

Later, Heath let out a piercing scream as he stormed past Greta, who held the quiet baby boy, in the drawing room. The infant was unaware of the tragedy and commotion that was the post-script to his birth.

**Chapter Thirty-four**

_**Transition **_

In the dark, Kate had whispered, 'Heath, you have come back to me.'

He lifted his head, contemplating her neck, only for a second.

Kate stirred as he leant in to whisper, 'Don't leave me. I cannot live without you, come back to me, come back to me. I never stopped loving you.'

Heath pulled her arm towards him and rested his head in the crook of her shoulder.

'Nor I you, I just wanted to make you suffer. I'm sorry Kate. Stay with me, don't leave. I cannot be without you…'

'You don't have to,' she whispered. 'If it's not too late, turn me into you, even as a ghost, let me haunt you, drive you mad.'

'Your transition may take decades. Changing you will change me. Neither of us will ever be the same.'

'I don't care.'

He had been warned by Greta that she had only minutes left. It seemed like seconds. The doctors had done all they could.

Heath barely paused before he lifted her towards him, plunging his teeth into her wrist, then her neck. The taste of her blood was honey and nectar to him but his tears were bitter. Without her, he felt nothing. With her by his side, they were invincible. Kate shuddered and closed her eyes.

She did not stir. Moments passed. He could hear the doctors discuss how many more seconds they should be left alone. He'd been inside Kate's room for less than three.

Heath turned and looked at the blackened sky. It reminded him of their shared childhoods. He resolved to take her, drag her out of the window if he had to, but physically, her recovery was quick. Her wounds began to heal, almost immediately, but the venom of a hybrid was not as strong in transition. Heath felt weaker. He wasn't sure this would save her.

Kate opened her eyes, yet her skin remained white, almost translucent. The fever, hot, began to cool. Her fingers responded to his touch as he lifted her from the bed to see the view from the window, the view in the night across Hampstead Heath and towards Hareton Hall, where she grew up.

'Heath,' she said, 'there is no man on earth I love more than I love you…' Then she shut her eyes. Kate's body lay mute and lifeless in his arms and Heath let out a howl in the dark that made the staff and Edmund come rushing into the room.

'And that is how the story went…' Greta said, 'A sad story, with no happy ending.'

Greta looked around her as she took the keys from the kitchen fruit bowl, freshly filled with blood oranges. The older woman's eyes filled with tears.

'Katarina, your mother would have been glad that you came here, to discover more about her, but now I think you should leave and think twice about coming back…You see, when we burst into the room that day… her body was lifeless. Then, they took her from him and she was buried far beneath the ground. There is no coming back from that. But people say… no body exists where she was laid to rest. Heath was raving on about immortality for days after but he was talking to a ghost.

I tried to placate him, but he was inconsolable. She'd whispered something in his ear before she passed; something to drive him mad. He bared his teeth and hissed at me when I found him lying beside the place she was buried and to my shame… I ran. I always knew that he was different. I thought it made him special, but that night… he was beyond help. I only imagine what he may have done to bring her back…at least, partly.'

The wind blew a gale outside. The night closed in on them.

'There are ghosts here,' Greta said. 'And more than that, besides… You don't want to make the same mistakes your parents did…'

**Chapter Thirty-five**

_**Family**_

Katarina and Hinton were seated in the Hidden Garden.

'I've read the file, Hinton. Of course, I can't pretend I'm not…surprised but it doesn't change you. Not really. It really doesn't matter to me.'

Hinton looked surprised and hugely relieved.

'I… I've drawn you something. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you. Do you…think of me?'

'Do I think of you? Always.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning I accept you for who you are,' Katarina said, as she ate the lunch she'd brought. She and Hinton, both dressed in long, dark coats (Katarina wore a red beret and gloves covering the expensive bracelet her father had given her for her birthday). They'd met here for lunch to celebrate Hinton's win – with the help of a perfectly worded essay attached to his entry.

'Finally I can spell, read and write almost perfectly, thanks to you Katarina. Although I have to admit, it still takes extra effort to translate some words.'

'I am so proud of you, Hinton. What words are still difficult?'

'I love you.'

Katarina smiled.

Hinton continued, 'they are simple words but hard for me to say.'

'I love you too,' Katarina replied.

Hinton could not contain his smile.

'I have been thinking of the future. The truth is, Katarina, I was never very interested in school. I preferred the horses and my Art and was never very big on study, nor was Heath. We were both too wrapped up in our own little worlds; Heath and his ghost, me and my cravings. Well, we shared the cravings. Perhaps Linus is the one you should congratulate. He just got accepted into Cambridge.'

'Wow. That's amazing,' Katarina said. 'I have to say I'm kind of surprised. He's so into his weekend dance parties. I didn't realize he ever studied. I'm still waiting to hear about Art College.'

'Well, I've been thinking, wondering. I'm planning to go travelling this summer. I was going to start in Italy, and then maybe Greece…The scholarship gives me enough money for two if I travel second class. I was hoping you might come with…'

'Yes,' Katarina said. She was barely eighteen but she knew perfect when she saw it (or perfect for her) and the love she felt for Hinton was real and present. She didn't care what her father thought of the Spencers and she had little memory of her mother apart from the ghostly young girl on the roof that day. The thought saddened Katarina so much she put the image out of her mind and convinced herself the moment could never be replicated.

She'd demanded an explanation from Heath the next time they spoke but he'd just dismissed her sighting and said, 'I warned you not to go up there…'

'Perhaps some things are….inexplicable,' was all Kate could think. The girl had looked so… real, so inexplicably like her. Katarina had barely seen the pyjama-clad intruder's face, but she remembered her clear blue eyes, flashing in the dark, a ghost, a vision, a pretty little vampire.

Katarina understood that somewhere, way back in time, near the place she and Hinton now walked, towards the glass house on Hampstead Heath, her mother had once met Hinton's father, a meeting that created this new moment for her now.

In her mother's antique locket, which she always wore (it had been passed down through generations of Spencer women), Kate had placed a photograph of her mother, and herself; together. The locket, she was sure, kept her safe. Katarina looked over at the handsome young man next to her. It was hard to believe, eight weeks ago, they had barely spoken. Now, she couldn't imagine being without him as he took her hand and they walked across the frosty mist of the Heath.

The truth was in the final pages of the journal. That was why Linus had given it to her to read; she knew that now. The words contained strange truths but necessary ones. Her father was not her biological father. This was something she had guessed from the early chapters of the journal. To discover her heritage was a shock, to discover she had a half-brother in Linus, was revelatory. Katarina also had a younger brother but they had been in different years at separate schools and had conflicting interests. Katarina hoped they would become closer when they were both adults.

She thought of the last time she had spoken to Heath. She was alone on the meadow, angry and tear-stained when she went to him. Heath had had the strangest feeling he was not alone riding his horse that day. He'd lately, in his thirties, begun to hear the thoughts of every human being he came into contact with, something he found disturbing. Once it had only happened when he listened closely. Recently his specialist had warned him about it, warned him that he'd be fully immortal if he lived past thirty, free to roam the heath forever if he wanted to, free to turn himself to ash in the sun if he did not. His image would not be betrayed in mirrors or print. After twenty-six, he'd ceased to exist in photographs entirely.

Heath heard her angry thoughts before he saw his daughter again that day and was not surprised to see her standing before him when he turned. Katarina wore the same long coat as her mother had worn, twenty years ago. Edmund must have kept it with Kate's things. He owed her an explanation. Before she could speak, he apologized.

'Here,' he said, handing her his waterproof jacket. 'The rain is coming down and it will protect you from the storm.'

They rode together to the glass house in silence. When she asked him a question, instead of replying in words, he vanished in mist. Katarina wasn't sure if she would ever see him again.

Months passed. There were so many questions and so few answers that Katarina had stopped asking for them. Her own father had died before she had ever challenged him on the matters of her parentage. Edmund had been a good father to her and she had loved him and mourned his loss and that was all that mattered. Katarina had inherited The Grange.

Heath had not once visited them but Linus came around often for dinner. The three young people had wild parties in the drawing room that were the talk of the borough and many friends from Italy and Europe came to visit. It was a world of lightness and socializing that none of them - Linus, Hinton or Katarina - ever experienced during their solitary childhoods. Heath had become more and more reclusive and barely spoke to his own son, let alone Hinton, when they moved out of Hareton Hall. By then, Heath had stopped going to work, repairing the now crumbling mansion, and never appeared at his own pub for dinner like he used to.

**Chapter Thirty-six**

_**Birthday Party **_

Almost twenty years had passed since the night she was born, and Heath remembered it was Katarina's birthday. He'd had the gift wrapped. A gold necklace with diamonds tastefully worked into swans on the pendant. A fine piece of jewellery, new, not from the family crypt, Heath mused. He also had another gift, the deeds to Hareton Hall, made out to Linus, Katarina and Hinton. He placed inside the envelope the gift of a round the world plane ticket, and access to the shares he had set aside for her since she was born. It was the least he could do, with all his money. He knew it would never be enough to make up for the neglect she'd suffered from him. The gift was merely a gesture and he expected nothing in return. Her desire to be friendly surprised him, given that there were so many unanswered questions about their family.

Katarina was surprised that Heath remembered her birthday since he had ignored every other one and had refused an invitation to the party that evening. Instead, he had driven over to The Grange to see her. He explained he didn't "do" parties anymore, especially ones with a Great Gatsby theme. Instead, he asked her to go walking with him across Hampstead Heath. Katarina smiled and said, 'I'll get my coat.'

They walked in tandem across the meadow in the mild winter light.

"I need to get some more decorations for tonight in Hampstead High Street,' Katarina said, making small talk. 'Linus will be there, you know. And Hinton would love to see you again. You never replied to my invitation, so I just assumed you…forgot.'

'Do you honestly think I could forget the day you were born?'

'No,' Katarina said, 'I suppose not.'

'What was she like, my mother? People say you were both… inseparable. They talk of a ghostly teenaged girl…like the girl I saw in the rafters that day. Tell me what she was like…'

'Well, at first I thought she was nothing like you, but I have changed my mind. You share the same curiosity about things you should not… and there is a determination in your manner that is similar.'

Heath looked down at his feet.

Katarina could hardly believe that this stranger was actually her father. After discovering her mother's old journals she had always suspected there was a story she was never allowed to know. She did not understood her need to reach out to this strange, alone man, who hadn't really shown her any love. Only her mother's journals filled in the blanks, shocking though they were to her. Deep down, there had always been something missing from her family history, something that she'd always suspected. Now she knew there was a vampire in the bloodline. She wanted to go far away from here, at least for a while.

'Your eyes are the same,' Heath said, reaching out to Katarina. He touched her hair when she stood in front of him, overlooking the meadow. Katarina could not feel or sense the touch. The man's fingers were like the air.

'And you look, almost identical - so similar that it was hard for me, at first.'

Then she understood, even slightly, that her mother had been right to let Hunt raise her. Her real father knew nothing about selflessness and love, or did he? He seemed to feel he owed her an explanation, however, and she was interested to hear it.

Heath admitted he'd always known she was his.

'I used to check on you from time to time. It was the reason I never left The Hall. Your mother thought Hunt should raise you and I did not object. I thought raising you in a house full of memories of your mother would not be in your best interests. Your mother and I were meant to be together, always…and I have never truly loved another…'

'I know,' Kate said.

'Then you know, everything?' he asked.

'I read her journals. I know what she wrote in them. It made me understand her…and you, more. But I don't love you. I don't think I even like you. I have forgiven you. That is all.'

'I understand,' Heath said. 'I owed you an explanation…but you found it yourself. I thought I was not fit to be your father…with the boys, I barely had a choice. It was…perhaps wrong of me not to claim you. It was Kate's wish that you be raised at The Grange. I think she thought it was less…haunted than Hareton Hall.'

Heath touched his daughter's cheek and walked on. He wandered further ahead of Katarina, ending the brief moment of rare and unexpected closeness between them.

He added as an afterthought, 'Your mother would be very proud to see you as you are.'

Heath moved quickly and deliberately. Katarina was left standing alone in silence once again.

**Chapter Thirty-seven**

_**Eternal**_

The Grange was decorated like something out of the 1920s. Light filled the room. It was surprising to Katarina that she felt so happy. Hinton had not expected her acceptance. Together they worked.

Though she could only recall the length of her mother's hair, her large, pretty eyes and the warmth of her touch – barely – Kate's writing brought her back to Katarina. She could not, of course, detail her transformation into the girl in the attic that day and Katarina resolved that the more fantastical elements of her visit to The Hall might have been a terrible dream or vision.

Katarina had each of the journals stored in a locked drawer of her desk. They represented a year of Kate's life on this earth, and Katarina had read all of them. The words began in large, childish letters, written in an unsophisticated way. Kate had skipped forward to the good parts, and that was how she knew that Heath was her father, although she never thought of him as that. Not yet. Not ever. They were how she had learnt of the existence of hybrids and humans and vampires and bloodsucking and night terrors. It was where she began to believe in the secrets of the impossible.

The day in the mist, the last time Katarina had seen him, had been the day he started to disappear. Heath had begun to move faster, some say at the speed of light. His powers were so diverse now. He thought they might have brought him happiness but eternity without the one he loved was…worthless. He waited for her.

It was not meant to be that way. He'd been waiting for a long time. But a vampire turned by a hybrid is the longest hibernation of all. Twenty years, he'd been told. And even then, she'd need another eight to reach maturity (girl hybrids aged until twenty-eight when they sometimes attained immortality). It was a risk. There was a chance.

For twenty years the teenage girl had hidden and grown, showing herself only in the early dawn of first light. She could not speak to him or any other person, let alone touch them. Recently, she began to attain human form, as she had been the day she saw Katarina.

For the past month, Kate had come to him in the night, older, not translucent anymore, still talkative, like a child. Her skin had transformed from see through to pale. She no longer took the form of a ghost.

Heath was preparing their first moments together. Their first trip to Italy, where he intended to take her, was to coincide with Kate's twenty-first birthday as a hybrid. He'd been told it was different for women. She'd take longer to emerge.

Tomorrow would be the day. Tomorrow eternity began.

Kate had writhed in pain for months in her attic space, hidden in corners, curled up in blankets. Heath had wandered the heath in the evening to spare himself the pain of her suffering. No one else could hear or see her and he couldn't help her, could not even touch her. He was sure she must regret her choice but when her memory returned, from the wild dark spirit she had become, she reminded him constantly, how much she loved him. It was the pain of seeing Katarina for the first time that rendered her silent. Unable to speak to her grown child, or touch her, she'd disappeared for a long time into the dark. No one could ever find her when they went looking, not even Heath. Kate languished in a ghostly form, pined to hold her daughter, longed to take human shape. It was no use.

Tomorrow, however, they would be free to roam together. Heath would give up his human form for now and they would no longer be seen by the rest of the world, at least until her transition was complete. One day hybrids and vampires would be accepted by the human race but that day had not yet arrived and it would not be safe for them to reveal themselves. Those were the rules. Being hybrid, Heath could only turn one human and that human, being part vampire, had had to wait two decades for restoration. Kate's form would be human, her body hybrid, with all the term implied. Neither of them would ever look older than their mid-twenties. Heath would be there to help her final transition, to encourage her, to love her.

He had been travelling, on a tour of his European offices as she had languished in hibernation in The Hall. Over the years she looked on in agony as the children grew. They were her greatest joy. On occasion she visited Katarina at night, resting her face on the child's cheek, mindful she could never actually touch her. Eventually, she hoped they would discover an elixir; that instead of vanishing together, (the price Heath would pay for her complete transformation), they would be revealed simultaneously.

Heath had told no one he was winding up the companies in America and selling most of his property. It took many weeks. When he returned to London he only left the house to go riding on his favourite horse and sometimes he went for long walks across Hampstead, through the park, and back again. Kate was transforming. Her image appeared to him more than briefly, for moments, and in daylight, not just dreams. He'd become more and more silent to the point where even Greta, who had long ago realized that Heath was not like other men, had taken to worrying constantly about him.

He would miss Greta and the children, who were now grown but they would not miss him. He knew it.

He'd stopped pestering the boys about study or work, stopped worrying about the future of his companies (they would cease to exist soon enough and the cash signed over to Katarina, Linus and Hinton). Heath had long ago stopped asking about any of his old rivals and acquaintances, stopped being interested in the world around him.

That night, before the morning of change, when Hinton, Linus and Katarina came to see him, he was congratulatory but distant. Linus seemed more terse than usual and Katarina and Hinton were blissful in each other's company. The general malaise which Heath had embraced now seemed to affect all areas of his life. He had long since ceased trying to control the younger generation around him. He even congratulated Linus on his new start at University, he told him he was 'extremely proud of him, whatever he chose to do but that "enjoying life" was just as important as a formal education.'

It was all very out of character, according to Greta, who left early after the party that night. Heath had relented and made a brief appearance after Katarina left another invitation at The Hall. Hinton insisted on kissing her goodbye on the cheek and hugged her. His body was cool, his breath light. He assured her he was feeling perfectly alright.

The next morning, Greta noticed Heath's bed had not been slept in and he'd lost weight, so much weight that suits hung off him, but he'd stopped wearing them, anyway. Greta had long since stopped suggesting he take anti-depressants. Heath just laughed and told her he didn't need her help or anyone else's.

Something strange happened in the silence and emptiness of Hareton Hall when he returned. These days, it wasn't just when he slept. The attic was inhabited by a young girl, there was no question. Greta invaded the attic one day and found packets of lollies, uneaten crisps, shoes, socks, dresses, ancient dolls and ribbons. Then there were the strange, empty vials of elixir which looked like…blood.

The first time Kate came to him in human form, he'd been in the drawing room attending to the paperwork on his latest company acquisition. He looked up to see some birds flying beyond where Hareton Hall was situated. They looked so free, so wild.

It was three in the afternoon and a clear day. No one was in the house, on the floor where the study was, yet all his pens and papers had been sorted into neat piles when he walked back to his desk.

It had been eighteen human years since he'd seen her. He sat on his favourite chair and felt a reach on his shoulder, like a whisper, the touch of her hands was so light, so transient.

'Kate.'

'Heath.'

'I knew you'd come back to me,' he said.

He held her hand for a moment and looked at her perfect face until she was gone.

From that moment, he searched for her with some hope of finding her transitioned and whole. He was reminded of the night he begged her as she lay lifeless on her bed, 'Come back to me, Kate. Haunt me, drive me mad…'

'Only if you turn me, change me…make me yours forever.' Somehow the timing was wrong. Somehow they'd met in the middle and once again, they'd been kept apart, made to wait. Both of them like ghosts, only one of them real.

That day, she must have heard him.

He tried to put the image of her from his mind, at first, because it interfered with work, with his day. For many years, she only visited at night in what he tried to believe were his dreams.

_When Hinton came to stay, permanently, after Harrison had drunk himself stupid and wished to stay in the cottage, I insisted Hinton should stay in the main house and Heath should hire more help (he did, without question or interest)._ _Heath always seemed distracted and secretive, for a reason,_ Greta wrote in the journals I read that night, after my final visit to Hareton Hall. _I had as soft a spot for Hareton as I had for Heath, _she wrote._ Although I know I helped to raise a wolfish man, you must understand how difficult life had been for him and how his ambition had been fuelled by his loss and his early life and his…condition. Both Heath and Kate, both young and headstrong, helped to create the adult paths their lives had taken, but they deserved better. They deserved to be together, it is just a shame they managed to hurt so many people in the process. Although Annabelle remarried and found happiness at last - becoming the manager of her own gallery…' _Greta added as an afterthought.

Heath wandered up the stairs that final night, with a copy of Kate's favourite novel, _Jane Eyre, _in his hands. He placed it by the bed next to her photograph. He'd removed the photograph when Annabelle had lived with him here, but it hadn't helped him forget Kate. He'd read _Jane Eyre_ when he was younger, at Kate's insistence, unable to see the parallels to their own isolated existence and the seeking of great love.

**Chapter Thirty-eight**

_**Happiness**_

Katarina had been meeting Hinton for months by the time Heath had made plans to sign the freehold title of his estate over to them. It was a regular pattern.They met at a studio space, rented out by the Art College, in Soho.

Katarina loved getting out of North London. She was used to being in central London but she particularly loved the winding cobbled streets of Soho and the West End lights. She'd dressed up for the occasion, knowing that she and Hinton had a special dinner planned to celebrate the one year anniversary of their first meeting.

Instead of going to Hampstead, they decided on a tiny restaurant here, beside the studio space. Hinton had something he wanted to show her that did not include a pen and paper.

In return, Katarina had a gift she had made to give him.

They kissed as lovers do, warm and close. It was as if they had always been like this. Although it had taken them many months to feel comfortable in each other's company, they now trusted each other completely. Hinton took Katarina's hand as they went to the studio together, tripping through crowds and Christmas lights of a frosty London winter.

'Quick, Katarina, I want to show you something.'

'Yes Hinton, I have something important to tell you also, something I've been saving for today.'

Hinton looked at her in the street, as they stood still together as the crowds bustled around them. Her face shone with beauty, hope and expectation.

Hinton had dreaded this moment - the moment he knew in his heart would eventually arrive. Everyone he had been close to, even momentarily, had abandoned him. First his own parents, whom he'd never met, then his adopted parents; even his adopted uncle had shown little interest in him beyond teaching him to fight back and be sullen and not trust another living soul. But he trusted this girl and she sensed his desperation when she said she had something important to tell him. Hinton's face was downcast, he knew it was irrational. They'd never had an argument since the day they'd met but still the thought remained that she might be breaking up with him. After all, he needed plasma every nine hours to exist.

'I…I knew you would…tire of me…you are such an amazing person but…'

'Oh no, Hinton, you misunderstand…Hinton …I …love you. I think I've loved you since we both sounded out the word "incandescent" …you are…the most original, amazing…'

He put his finger on her mouth, happy that the night had not been ruined, and the surprise was still before them.

'Before you say anything else, you need to see this…'

They had reached the studio, a small building, one floor up on a tiny side street in Soho.

Hinton opened the door slowly.

He wrapped his tie across her eyes.

'Wait,' he said.

'Hinton, what are you up to?'

'I'm showing you something I've been working on over the autumn. It's something special…it's my future.'

Kate stood still in the centre of the room, an empty room with tall ceilings apart from the painting on the easel in the middle.

'Open your eyes.'

Katarina stood in her coat, flicks of snow upon her shoulders and glanced at the tall, handsome boy with the kind eyes, then glanced back at the painting of her.

'What do you think Katarina?'

'It's…amazing. I'm speechless…'

'It won first prize. You won me first prize.'

The picture that stared back at them was of a young woman's face, an identical artist's interpretation of the beautiful girl in the room. The haunted look in her eyes was replaced with something verging on both satisfaction and calm. If there was a word to describe the expression on Katarina's face in the portrait, it would be love.

'You are the reason I won this scholarship. I'm going abroad for the summer…'

Kate's face dropped…

'Well, that's wonderful… I had something for you but now…'

Kate realized Hinton had meant more to her than she to him, for he was the one contemplating leaving.

Hinton took her hands in the shadow of the exquisite painting. Light beamed in from Soho streetlamps. Wind whipped up leaves on the cobbled stone. He could hear her heart and tried to stop himself from hearing her thoughts. He'd consulted a specialist who'd said by twenty-one, his needs would be fully formed. But for tonight, he was okay. Together, they were warm and safe.

'It's just that… I made something for you, but I don't know if I should give it to you now. I mean, now that you are going…'

Katarina sat on the forgotten lounge which had been covered in an old painter's canvas sheet. There were splotches of blue and pink oil paint around the frayed edges of the material.

Hinton moved towards her slowly, blood tightening in his veins. He hesitated.

'That's just it, Katarina. I don't want to go alone. I know you shouldn't accept me, as I am and I know it's early to ask you this - we are young…I am…different, to say the least but…'

Katarina looked more intently at him, not wanting to anticipate his meaning without having it spelt out before her. He wanted her to go with him… or did he?

It was easier for him. All his life he had felt unloved until now. Hinton did not want any misunderstandings or any lack of clarity to mess things up the way love had messed up the people around him - his adopted Uncle, for example.

'I… I love you. And I was wondering if you could overlook…'

Hinton got down on one knee on the bare floors, his mouth watering with nerves, his blood tight in his veins…

'I…am wondering…would you do me the honour…'

Katarina was surprised. She had thought he'd meant her to travel with him but…this.

'Yes,' Katarina said…

'I haven't asked…' he began.

'Ask the question,' Katarina smiled.

'Katarina Spencer…I know we are young, I know we should be fearful of my…condition, but I've never been surer of anyone. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'

'Yes,' Katarina said.

In the shadow formed by street lamps, the young lovers kissed.

**Chapter Thirty-nine**

_**Wuthering Nights **_

It was an icy winter evening in Hampstead as he spread out all of the documents that ridiculous lawyer had required of him for the transferral of property and funds. He was sure he hadn't neglected anything. He left no notes but he knew Greta would do as he wished. She had not been forgotten either. There was an envelope for her which would be sure to allow her to live in luxury for the rest of her life. Apart from Kate, she had been the most loyal person he'd known.

Heath dressed in his warmest black turtle neck jumper and found his boots and the coat he liked best and wore most often. He heard a tap at the window, rain mixed with the branches of the tree outside, hail trickling onto the roof, reminding him of her beautiful face and pale fingers reaching for him.

It was not unusual any more. The waiting, the anticipation, the brief visits that had prolonged his years. He had taken to staying out late then driving home at two in the morning. But tonight was different, tonight she hadn't come to him and he knew it was because it was his turn to find her. Kate was waiting for him in the dark, on the heath, in human form.

She called to him when no one could hear, no one but him.

'I've missed you…' She said, 'I told you I'd come back to you.'

'Kate,' he whispered, 'it's been forever…' he said under his breath, glad she was so restless, like him, a twin soul.

**Epilogue**

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London. **_

In the morning, I was called to investigate the business transactions of a certain Heath Spencer and the links amongst his family which allowed him to divide his assets between three heirs. I was alarmed by news of his passing, but not surprised. The Spencers hadn't made it public and there was no note so it had taken some years for the law to rule that he'd died "of exposure" in the night. It was all rather strange, since his body was never found.

Rather than try to navigate the heath on a frosty winter morning, I stopped and parked near the local pub again and decided to enjoy the ten minute walk along the winding, private road that led to the imposing exterior of Hareton Hall. I was due to visit the new owner, Hinton Spencer, a young man who was married to Katarina Hunt. They had a three year old child and were in a hurry to get the documents signed because they were due to leave for America to spend a summer painting abroad. They were taking an extended vacation and assured me they did not care to live at The Hall but did not wish to sell the place, either. It was a simple matter of the transfer of documents that I'd waited some years to finalize. Hareton Hall would then be returned to its rightful owners.

It was a grinding walk, starting flat and easy and heading ever so slightly up hill, and then, when the sleet and wet started, down again. I was glad I could see the imposing house in the distance.

When I finally arrived there was not a hint of movement, save wind across ground, whipping the heather into a lavender mix in the distance. Up close, there was no sign of the housekeeper either whom I'd been led to believe still lived at Hareton Hall. There was no sign of anything. The fact that the owner had gone "missing" had led to many years of legal uncertainty.

An elderly man, wearing gloves, who looked like he worked with animals, wandered out from the stables, as if from nowhere. He must have been close to ninety years old.

'Is anyone at home?' I asked.

'Not likely,' he replied. 'I've just come from exercising the horses…'

'Is the owner here?'

'You could say that, many do…' he replied enigmatically. He looked at me strangely as he walked into air.

I wandered around to the side of the house, where the cobwebs grew and the foliage had been left wild, giving the lower floor of Hareton Hall the appearance of being covered in unruly brownish lace. There were windows and doors shut tight and locked. The garages were closed and the stables remained empty apart from one where a door had been left swinging open. The grounds themselves, once manicured, had grown wild and lush with secrets.

The owner, I thought, the young man I sought, a Mr Hinton Spencer, must have risen early to go riding across the heath with his wife.

Then I remembered the tales of ghouls and ghosts, the objects seen moving in windows, the people long gone that neighbours reported having seen only days ago. Someone in particular, a young woman with long dark hair who wandered the corridors and played loud music, turning on all the lights during wild, evening parties and lighting hundreds of fire -hazardous candles. I'd assumed the reports were simply jealous neighbours complaining about the noise created by the beautiful young wife, the new Mrs Spencer who'd also had the keys and the run of Hareton Hall. Since the noise always stopped at midnight, there was little anyone could do.

I was about to give up, admit defeat and return the copies of the papers declaring transfer of original ownership to the rightful heirs of Hareton Hall, when I saw the curtains in the upstairs window move. A young girl with long dark hair glanced down at me and smiled. I knocked loudly and waited for a long time, but still, no one answered.

'Katarina Spencer,' I announced, calling out distinctly, although I knew Katarina would be older now and the woman at the window was barely out of her teens. The downstairs curtains waved and I thought perhaps the housekeeper might be there. I looked up again. The girl who stood at the window was beautiful, otherworldly. The image disappeared before my eyes in a mirage of dark curls, cream lace and ruby cheeks.

I was convinced the cold, like the heat, could make you see a mirage in the mist yet I waited on the doorstep for a long time. No one answered. I was tempted to look back as I walked towards my car. For the first time in my life I didn't need proof. I was sure the rumours I'd heard were true, though my notes had many pages missing. As I drove towards The Grange, I was certain the lovers who had once inhabited Hareton Hall, lived there still. The girl had not aged a day since she was last seen alive, more than twenty years ago.

Summer Day is the author of Pride & Princesses, a novel for young adults inspired by Pride and Prejudice and Anne Eyre, a YA novel inspired by Jane Eyre. Follow Summer Day on:

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Email: summerdaylight99

276


	10. Sixteen Chapter 9

Wuthering Nights by Summer Day

Copyright, Legal Notice and Disclaimer: 

Wuthering Nights

Copyright © 2012 Summer Day

All rights reserved worldwide.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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*Note to Readers: UK Spelling / Punctuation used in Wuthering Nights

**WUTHERING NIGHTS **

**Prologue**

**From the journal of Greta Gardner, February 1978**

_The boy arrived at night, wrapped in a blanket. He was carried by his adopted father who placed him on the kitchen floor next to me. His big blue eyes stared out from under his wild black hair. He shrank from the fire, he shrank from my touch, yet his skin was cold as ice… _

_He arrived with a list of instructions tucked into the pocket of his jacket. _

_Eats - mostly chicken and oranges (likes: roast chicken, blood oranges and plums). _

_Drinks - mostly water and citrus juice._

_First warning - do not let him go in the sun often as he burns easily. _

_Second warning - make sure he wears his necklace amulet (a parting gift from his biological mother). He screams if you take it. _

_Final Warning - do not let him go out at night alone. _

_As a small boy (just walking) he had a tendency to wander off, and many times staff at the orphanage were unable to find the little fellow for hours. Once, he was found hanging upside down from the roof of the school gymnasium, like a bat. The only giveaway was the drip drip drip of juice as he stuffed his baby face with blood oranges._

_His file was then stamped: Special Needs. _

_I shook my head as I read this. I was sure Mr Spencer had finally lost his mind dragging the mite all the way back from Spain. It was many years before I learnt the full extent of his malady._

**Chapter One**

_**Hareton Hall**_

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London, Present Day**_

When I saw the house in the fragile light, I could barely make out the lines of gothic architecture in the morning mist. I'd heard whispers about the strangeness of the place. I was told that I risked my life going there; that the owner brandished a gun and roamed the heath looking for his lost love. Music and chatter, laughter and screams could be heard miles away in the night. Neighbours said the lovers who'd inhabited Hareton Hall lived there still, as young and beautiful as they ever were; haunted.

The family, the Spencers, originated in Yorkshire and could trace their lineage back a thousand years. Their secrets wove through history and time and family portraits. I held in my hand a photograph of Mr Spencer, an aristocrat with an interest in archaeology, returning from a trip to Spain with a small child. Among other documents, there was a photograph of the entire family, arriving to greet Mr Spencer and his newly adopted son at the airport. The family were generationally wealthy. Mr Spencer had an interest in Botany. According to my documents, he kept to himself and his study. Within the file, I also retained the marriage notice of the daughter, Kate. This was long before the family feud that had ignited decades of dispute.

In the picture was a beautiful mother with ink black curls. The older teenage boy, Harrison, had a scowl on his face and headphones on his ears. He appeared tuned out from the proceedings. The girl, her dark curls tied with an unruly red ribbon, revealed an adorable cherub face. Aged six, she peeked out from behind her mother and stole the picture. It was this child's face I remembered long after I'd set the image aside.

As I walked along the winding road that led from Hampstead Heath towards Hareton Hall, I passed another magnificent home, The Grange. This was a Georgian mansion hidden behind a maze of orange trees as opposed to The Hall where photographs showed gargoyles at its entrance. The signatures I was required to collect involved the ownership of both properties.

I'd been advised not to try to park along the icy road that connected the houses on opposite sides of the heath. Instead, I'd driven to a spot along the frosty lane which meant I had to walk the rest of the way in the rain. Late afternoon seemed to be losing light but then all the days were dark now as London turned rapidly into winter. It was not a good time to walk about the borough. A man had recently gone missing and was yet to be found. As I was surrounded by street crime in my first position as junior solicitor at a criminal law firm, I was not perturbed.

I pushed the family photograph, covered in plastic, deep inside my briefcase along with some handwritten journals kept by Kate Spencer, the only daughter of the house, and one by the housekeeper, Greta Gardner. Greta's journal contained a collection of various yearly expenses with some alarming family details written in the margins. Both contained valuable information entrusted to me. I noticed The Grange to my right, a well-kept home, built not far from a local landmark, Kenwood House. The Grange held some of the allure, yet I suspected hosted none of the secrets, of Hareton Hall.

The history of the Spencer family haunted me as I walked. I remembered words and snippets from the bizarre journals. For example, Heath was described as_, "a pale little boy with sharp milk teeth!" _This journal scribble was mixed with the photographs I resolved to return to their rightful owner. As I rounded the corner, I was almost as keen to talk to Greta Gardner, the housekeeper and keeper of secrets, as I was to speak with the owner of The Hall.

The heath was silent and stark in bare winter.

I'd visited during summer as a child but never with such purpose in my step. To my right and to my great relief, I saw the entrance to a pub. I'd been there with my family once, just after I'd graduated from university. I decided to warm myself and ask for directions.

The Horse and Ale used to serve delicious roast dinners and hot toddies. I hoped it hadn't changed too much in the intervening years.

I settled in front of the fire, grateful for the familiarity as I drank my hot, strong mulled wine. When the waiter asked me if I needed anything extra, I asked him for directions to Hareton Hall.

'Who wants to know?' The low, gruff voice of a man, perhaps in his thirties, spoke to me from behind one of the many sofas. He had a plate of what appeared to be lamb, dipped in gravy and a large pint of dark ale in his hand. His dog lay lovingly, sleeping at his feet, apparently unbothered by the smell of roasted meat.

'Ah, I do.'

'Really? And who might you be?'

To say he was unfriendly would be an understatement.

'I'm well, who are you?'

He almost laughed.

'I asked you first.'

'I'm Tom Bennett, the junior partner from _Bennett & Sons_. I have an appointment at Hareton Hall.'

'To see the owner?'

'Yes, and who might you be?'

'I am the owner.'

He didn't smile. He rose slowly. For a youngish man, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. He looked like a hard partying insomniac. I offered him my hand and he took it obligingly. If I was trained to comment on such things, which I suppose I am, I'd say he was tall and fairly handsome. The air of sleeplessness hung over him like a cloud. He was polite yet unfriendly; he did not smile. He was unshaven; his dark shirt was unironed but expensive. He stared at me coldly.

The publican scurried off to some far flung corner of the establishment. One of the lights overhead flickered as the man moved closer to me. He picked up an implement from the fireside and stoked the flame.

I took another sip of my drink and waited for him to speak.

'Well then, it's me you've come to see. Place is empty, except for my housekeeper Greta, a few horses in the stables and the dogs.

'Perhaps I could come to Hareton Hall?'

'What for?'

'It would help if I sighted the property and it may be easier to talk there.'

'I am busy this evening. If you had come earlier as arranged…'

'I was detained. It was further away from Hampstead than I expected.'

'Even so, I don't have visitors at night. I shall arrange for you to come tomorrow morning. Twenty minutes.'

'It may take more than twenty minutes.'

The rain poured down overhead and with it the darkness of early winter. For once, I was glad as a young man, not to have to hurry back to a wife and family.

The man shrugged.

'Well, it's getting late. You can stay here tonight - for free; I own the pub. I'll send my driver to get you at nine in the morning. We can finalize the matter then.'

He smiled for the first time at the blonde, middle-aged woman who entered the room and moved softly behind the bar.

'This is Greta; she used to be the housekeeper at Hareton Hall; raised me as a child; she'll fill you in on the story. Look after him Greta and see he gets a comfortable bed.'

Greta looked at me warily.

He whistled to his dog, a large amiable Labrador who obviously worshipped his master.

The dog sat up and barked. I think his owner was used to people behaving in a similar manner.

It turned out Greta had quite a tale to tell as she chatted to me by the fireside that evening. I asked her to identify her household journal and she was pleased to do so. I marked it as "Exhibit A" in my head; it was to be a wealth of information. I had the journal open on my knee as we talked. The Spencer crest hovered above us as Greta spoke in detail about the family she'd once served. Before I retired to bed, I could not resist writing down what she said as I did not want to forget what she told me. As I offered to pay for my drinks, I was more intrigued than ever about the legends of Hareton Hall and the fate of the Spencer children who lived there, more than thirty years ago…

**Chapter Two**

_**Wild Child **_

I read Greta's words as I rested on the hotel bed. They were written in a firm, definite hand:

_February 1978 (second entry) - we were not sure what country the child originated from. When Mr Spencer brought him back from his trip, I thought he'd finally gone mad, like his ancestors. I said, 'You were searching for fossils, not people!' But he just shrugged and said, 'Well, I saw him on the street and no one claimed him so I filled in the paperwork, paid a requisite sum and now here he is. All this had happened many months before the actual collection. Perhaps the child was originally from Europe or maybe as close as Liverpool? The foundling had papers to say he was ours, signed by a solicitor, no less. He didn't speak a word that first night. His bell bottom jeans and shoes were filthy and caked with mud from the walk along the driveway. Dirt splattered on my kitchen floor. I thought it was very inconsiderate of Mr Spencer not to have put clean clothes on him but grown men rarely think of small comforts. The dark haired, six-year-old person stared at me blankly and flinched when I tried to go anywhere near him. He kicked and scratched me so hard when I went to take his jacket (where I read the "instructions") that I honestly wondered how I'd cope looking after a child in such a…state. Harrison, almost eight years the child's senior, shoved the boy when he thought no one was looking and whispered to him before leaving the house, 'Who do you think you are? Invading my home like this… I'll make you pay, charity case!'_

_Kate, who had always been naughty (a fact belied by her pretty and innocent face), and never close to her much older brother or absent socialite mother, became attached to the new boy who we named Heath and resolved to raise as part of our family… _

It was all rather formal yet strangely personal.

I'd learnt, as a child, Heath Spencer had no language and apparently very little memory of his origins. He'd certainly made up for it judging by the detailed and sophisticated legal correspondence he'd addressed to me personally and which I had spread out on the desk in my room. Heath's letters addressed the various ownership and personal scandals involving both himself and his adopted relatives in almost forensic detail. Events happened a long time ago, but the origins and complex story of the properties in question, both Hareton Hall and The Grange, involved both the Spencer and Hunt families whose paperwork I now studied. Their generational feuds had been the talk of the firm, behind closed doors, of course.

According to family tradition, the Spencer children were sent away to school the year they turned twelve. However, the friendship between the two youngest children began much earlier, with a whisper. It was as if Kate was the first to know, although his adopted father must have suspected. There was something different about Heath.

The first night the child arrived, Kate wandered up to him when he was left alone in the kitchen and the little boy hissed at her, baring his tiny, white incisor fangs. Kate scowled then smiled and moved towards the small boy, rather than rejecting him. As if he were some exotic pet, she tried to pat his head. The boy, suddenly ashamed of his behaviour, covered his mouth. Heath had only recently learned how to recede his little fangs but sometimes they came out when he was frightened or stressed. Kate took his hand and led him upstairs.

When they were in the play room, she asked him to explain more. It was their secret, she told him. Kate loved to have secrets. The little boy didn't know what to tell her.

'I was born this way,' he whispered.

His biological father had kept notes but Mr Spencer wanted proof. After many secretive tests with a Vampire specialist on Harley Street it was explained to Mr Spencer that the child had a rare condition. There was a line of Spanish vampires from thousands of years ago that he possibly descended from through his mother. His blood type was unknown. What they did ascertain was that the child might grow out of his ways and never fully mature into a "blood sucker" as the specialist called his "breed". He also warned Mr Spencer, "Tell no one." Fearing society would reject his new son, Mr Spencer agreed.

Heath was told his cravings for blood would not reach full maturity until he did (at around eighteen) and in the meantime, he could be easily sustained with a diet high in protein and iron. He would keep ageing until then. As the venom in his blood was diluted, he would be given protection from sun. His image would appear in photographs and mirrors until it began to fade in adulthood. Kate's father had been assured by the vampire specialist it was completely safe for Heath to go to church and be around other children.

Mr Spencer was given a list of instructions similar to the ones the boy arrived with; that he had to be careful of the child's fair skin in the sun, (although a small amount wouldn't hurt as long as he took his daily supplements and wore a pendant protecting him from daylight). According to the notes, the child's mother was horrified the baby had crackled and almost burnt in the light. Heath had also tried to bite her when nursing. Finally, unable to cope, his mother had left him with Spanish nuns when he was just three months old. She had placed the protective amulet around the baby's neck along with a kiss as she broke down and put him in a basket outside the gates of the orphanage. As he grew, incorrigible, the child daily escaped and ran himself ragged along the Spanish streets. That was how Mr Spencer found him, pale and hungry for protein, like a wild kitten.

After the child arrived at Hareton Hall his incisors were painlessly filed down during regular check-ups at the family dentist and life resumed as normal. Life for Heath was a regular routine of vitamin taking, avoiding the sun, wearing his amulet (even in the bath) and craving roast dinners (his favourite). The child was deemed eccentric and wild but no one except Mr Spencer, Kate and Heath knew he was actually different. He had cravings for cooked, red meat, a desire to sleep half the day and stay up all night, but those were habits and slowly, Heath conformed to the ways of the household.

On one occasion, he had been caught off-guard when Kate's mother had walked in on the child playing with his train set and Heath, suddenly frightened, sensed an intruder. He turned round and hissed, before realizing the full impact of what he had done. His new mother fled from the room screaming, "He's not normal! He's just not normal!" Heath tried to apologize. The woman wouldn't listen. She packed her bags and wanted to take Kate with her; the little girl refused to go.

After Kate's mother left Hareton Hall, her father withdrew from the world. Mr Spencer retired from normal life and began to live in relative seclusion. He went for long walks during the day and took trips abroad, collecting plants to study and write about in his home office.

Growing up, Kate and Heath ran wild. As the years wore on, Mr Spencer became a hermit and slept often, worked in the garden and read the Bible fireside in the afternoons. One by one, the staff began to give notice, except the housekeeper Greta, who'd been with the family since she was sixteen. Greta had more to do than keep track of the wayward children who were soon expelled from the local primary school for "non-attendance, unruly behaviour" and (worst), "attempted biting," something Kate hotly denied as Heath looked on sheepishly.

Although Greta knew Heath was unusual, he'd managed not to reveal his secret to her. There had to be something wrong with him, Greta thought, but nothing that boarding school wouldn't fix. Besides, no one was perfect.

Although Mr Spencer felt especially partial to his youngest children, he began counting the days until they were old enough to be sent to Yardley Mansion School in Scotland, a Spencer family tradition. Perhaps they would learn something useful about discipline in such a prestigious establishment. After all, it would be nearly impossible to escape lessons there and Heath's condition seemed almost entirely under control, his penchant for roast dinners aside. But after all, who except vegetarians did not like a good roast?

When Heath grew stronger (useful against Harrison) and his inclinations grew rougher, he hid them and learned to control his desire to sometimes nip Kate on her leg or arm. In fact, he'd be horrified if she knew he once imagined tasting the pretty little vein in her wrist.

He'd educated himself and knew biting was wrong and never in a billion years would he wish to hurt the person he loved most in the world. Heath religiously took his supplements, wore his amulet and kept himself sustained with his favourite juice and meat. As he grew older, his cravings were not subsiding quite as easily.

Heath was closer to Kate than anyone. Apart from Kate's father, whom Heath regarded warmly, she was the only friend he'd ever had. Well, except for Greta, who, after a faltering start, grew to look upon Heath with great fondness. At first Heath didn't like Greta. She was always huffing and puffing in the kitchen about the extra work and ignored him when he asked lots of questions until he stopped talking altogether and then she said things like, "Has the cat got your tongue, young man?"

Harrison was at home for half-term holidays when the children started playing a particularly savage game of sardines. Heath had been caught running through the attic by Harrison and was beaten with a stick. Heath then (unsuccessfully) tried to drive his homemade stake into the older boy's leg. After witnessing Harrison's cruelty, Greta had become Heath's ally. She told Mr Spencer who reprimanded Harrison for picking on the smaller child and withdrew the older boy's financial privileges for a month. Harrison was angry; the boy was half his height but twice as strong.

'I'll get you back for this, charity case,' the older boy said as he again hit Heath when nobody else was about. There was enough force in that clip to make Heath's ear bleed. Heath bared his teeth, as he waited for the strength in his venom to take over. Kate swiped her elder brother and before long the three of them were wrestling, pushing, kicking and shoving each other until the little girl was almost squashed in the pile beneath. This just led the two boys to start fighting all over again. Heath bit Harrison on the wrist and spat out the taste just as quickly. Harrison called him a "little animal". Kate screamed so hard Greta had to race up the stairs to break them up.

Harrison would have been sent back to school to suffer the long weekend alone before term started but Greta noticed spots on all three children as she was sending them out of the room separately. They had developed chicken pox, which Harrison blamed on the local "state school scum" - Heath and his bratty little sister's school friends.

'Oh be quiet, Harrison!' Greta warned. 'I think it is far more likely that you carried the chicken pox back with you from that posh boys' school your father pays the earth for…'

Chastened, Harrison went back to bed moaning and demanding more sympathy. Both Harrison and Kate, spoiled before their mother left, demanded to be waited on hand and foot but not Heath. He had lain there, expecting very little sympathy (eyeing the specially delivered basket of blood oranges), sleeping most of the day and happy to gnaw on a chicken leg when it was given. Because he was a stoic little boy, Heath had won Greta over. She kept the best treats for him - fruit and sandwiches for his lunch (the boy always left the bread and ate the meat) - fussing over him like a young mother. This too, bred Harrison's resentment. Heath, for the first time in his young life, basked in the adoration the females of Hareton Hall gave him, and he grew into a tall, robust child whom Greta predicted would be, "a real lady killer one day".

At eight years old, that day hadn't quite arrived.

**Chapter Three**

_**Kate and Heath**_

After Mr and Mrs Spencer separated, Hareton Hall was never the same.__Mutual loneliness, secrets and headstrong natures had drawn Heath and Kate into an alliance. The days went by and as they grew together, the children craved freedom.

One cold day in November Kate and Heath lay side by side on Hampstead Heath making starfish in the snow. There was no sun as usual. Their arms and legs reached out forming windmills in the ice, so that their fingers almost touched.

'Kate?' the small boy asked as he sat up and wrapped his scarf around his neck and ears. He had dark hair and blue eyes and was as strikingly good looking as the girl, with her midnight curls and icy, reddened cheeks. Both of them had perfectly white teeth from their frequent trips to the dentist and Heath, in eighteen months, had learnt how to control his fangs, perfectly. Now that he was a little older, he never revealed them in public and they didn't need to be filed anymore.

'Yes,' she replied.

'I wish Harrison would stop picking on us.'

'Me too, he's…mean. Every time he comes home from school I dread it. He takes over the house and pinches me and locks me in my room when no one is about. Ever since mother…I can't say the words,' she said as she put her small hand to her mouth and Heath noticed a tear drying on her face. The recent abandonment of Kate by her mother had not overly concerned Heath, since the woman had had nothing to do with him on a daily basis and had shown little interest in his upkeep. But he understood how it felt to be left and reached out to commiserate with Kate.

That first night, after Mrs Spencer left, Kate and Heath had played with the train set until, eyes heavy, they fell asleep together on the floor. Greta had placed a pillow under each small head. Ever after, they slept near each other or on opposite sides of the wall. They made hand puppet shows in the moonlight on the walls of the play room and Heath always let Kate win at games.

'Don't cry,' Heath told Kate that day in the Hampstead meadow. 'You have to be strong. If you cry, your tears will turn to crystal in this weather and freeze on your face. Imagine how awful that would look. Yuck.'

Kate laughed. 'Perhaps it's for the best. You can save my crystal tears in a jar,' she joked.

'I don't like it when you cry,' Heath said, wiping the tears from her face.

Kate sat up and sniffed into her coat sleeve.

The boy took her mittened hand.

'Never cry again, Kate. We must be stronger than that, stronger than them.'

'Stronger than this?'

Kate rolled up the edge of her jeans to where her knee showed the beginnings of a scab and a remarkably deep bruise.

'It happened when Harrison kicked me because I wouldn't give him the riding whip father bought me for my birthday. I was afraid he'd whip Hero too much.'

To her surprise, Heath moved forward, leaned over her leg, touched the scab and moved closer, almost as if he was going to lick it.

'That's gross,' Kate said, 'you were going to kiss it better like Greta would. , I hate kisses, unless I'm the one giving them!' the girl announced, pulling her leg closer.

Heath looked very dejected and turned his face away.

Kate smiled; glad to have evoked such a strong reaction. She was 'quite the little exhibitionist', as Greta told her once.

'I'm only kidding! Gotcha…' Kate smiled.

Heath grudgingly turned to face her.

Kate covered her knee and changed the subject. 'I heard you playing guitar this morning. I can hear you from my room when I wake up. You play much better than Harrison.'

Heath beamed with pride. He wasn't used to hearing praise before he'd moved to The Hall. His only real problem was his adopted brother.

As if reading his thoughts, Kate said, 'Never mind, we'll get Harrison back one of these days. C'mon, I'll race you to the bus stop. I found some coins in Harrison's coat pocket when he was sleeping. Now we can go and buy sweeties.'

Heath didn't want to disappoint her with his unnatural lack of desire for sugary lollies.

Instead, Heath picked up a stick and used it to plough through the snow quickly. He withheld the urge, like small children sometimes have, to bash the flower beds because he was fairly sure Kate wouldn't approve. In this way, the children civilized and complimented one another's personalities.

'One day, when we're grown up, I'll take care of you, Kate,' he said.

'Silly, you take care of me already.'

'When we're grown up we'll get married.'

'Even sillier, we're brother and sister.'

'Not really. We're not actually related.'

The boy was annoyed his suggestion had not been taken seriously. He reached into his pocket and dragged out a remarkably fresh, although slightly crumpled, wildflower.

'I've been saving this all morning to give to you,' he said, handing her the daisy.

'Thank you,' she said, dismissively. Kate was already thinking about how easily they could avoid going to school and go straight to the sweet shop instead.

The boy picked up his brown leather satchel and headed to the bus stop, ignoring Kate as he walked past her. 'That will teach her a lesson,' he thought.

'Stop! Now you are being the silly one,' the girl said. 'We both know we're not really brother and sister.'

Heath smiled at Kate as she took his hand. The frozen winds played with their hair and both children forgot their conversation as they ran to stop the bus as it moved forward. The little boy was amazed at how fast he'd begun to run, almost merging in double quick time across the meadow. He had to wait at the bus stop for the girl to catch up.

**Chapter Four**

_**The Grange**_

It was so cold Greta noticed Kate's breath first as she entered the kitchen and placed her school bag on the floor. Heath dawdled behind his eye-catching counterpart. Kate was meticulous about her appearance. Her perfect curls lay in bunches behind her ears, tied in royal blue ribbons, the colours of her school. Her long socks were not rippled as other children's were. In fact, the uniform she wore was in good condition, unstained and nearly uncrushed. Greta looked at Kate again. She knew that after her mother had fled, literally fled the house one night to go gallivanting around Europe with a man she'd met in rehab, Kate had become unmanageable - but bunking school? She really didn't know what to do about this.

From the moment Kate had been born her Papa had indulged her every childish whim, much to the displeasure of her mother who worried that the child would be spoiled and difficult, like Harrison. Well, he was in boarding school where Kate would surely be sent soon, just as her older brother had been.

As for the "wild child", as Greta thought of him, he looked completely unkempt – shirt hanging out, hair unbrushed, knees scratched. He ran upstairs to Kate's bedroom (a converted ballroom) or to his own, the more modestly sized room opposite, to play video games and listen to music. The children would lounge around on the floor (strewn with the striped wrappers of Kate's favourite boiled sweets) in the afternoons. They ate and listened to music, hardly bothering to even attempt their homework.

Heath had long ago discovered the path around the side of the house, through the kitchen door where the new au pair was standing and peeling potatoes for dinner. He fled past their elderly gardener and crept inside the kitchen, thinking he might sneak past, but Greta was too quick. She grabbed him by the hands.

'Wait.'

'What Greta?'

'Don't say "what", I know what you've been doing, or rather not doing.'

'You just said "what".'

'That's not what I meant.'

'Said it again…'

'Oh, you little rascal!'

Heath sighed.

'What is it Greta?'

'You haven't been to school, have you? You and Kate have been gallivanting on the High Street. I can't believe you've not been detained by police! The meadow must be too freezing even for both of you, scamps. And look at that bruise on your leg, Kate.'

Kate moved behind the bench protectively. She didn't want Greta to have too much knowledge about the behind-the-scenes household warfare.

'If that's Harrison's doing, I told you to tell me if he ever tries to hit either of you again! He's twice your age. Honestly, I don't know what this family has come to ever since your mother left. I'll be calling social services next. Or they'll be calling me.'

'Oh don't do that Greta. I just knocked into something when I was out riding…at pony club.'

Heath looked at Kate quickly, knowing if they told on Harrison again, it would only make matters worse the next time he came home.

'I told you to tell me if that older brother of yours so much as raises his voice. He wouldn't dare do it in my presence. But that doesn't give either of you an excuse to avoid school. It's a good thing Harrison is going away to University. By then, he won't even be coming home for holidays…'

Heath and Kate were too quick. Greta talked on whilst they ate everything on the kitchen countertop behind her.

When Greta stopped talking, Kate took a bottle of fizzy drink and Heath grabbed a packet of Parma ham and they raced up the stairs, rejoicing in the time when their play room was empty of responsible adults (almost always). They had the whole ancient second floor to themselves in the afternoons. They could play their games or crawl outside, along the ledge that connected them to the ground and the road that led them to The Grange. Heath liked to go fishing in the stream and learned to make an open fire and cook the food on it. He was more and more interested in living in this natural, primal way, even at such a young age.

Annabelle and Edmund Hunt were the same age as Heath and Kate and their nearest neighbours. They were so stuck up neither Heath nor Kate had ever spoken to them. The blonde girl had poked her tongue out at Kate once during ballet lessons at the local church hall. Neither of the girls had spoken to each another since.

Kate and Heath lived in a world of their own - a world with a secret language and two rooms that adjoined each other with archaic light fittings, tall ceilings and furniture passed down through generations.There was a shabby opulence surrounding their secret society of two. Kate's room had a canopied bed with cream sheets and a blanket and an old fashioned cream lace doll.

On occasions when the neighbourhood children were invited to tea, the doll's house intrigued all of Kate's jealous little acquaintances (mainly from school). But Kate never let Heath catch her staring at the perfect dolls in their pristine world longingly. She knew he'd think envy beneath her.

As he grew older, he became tougher and more boisterous, wanting to be outside more than inside which, Greta reasoned, was only natural in an almost twelve-year old boy. Heath remembered little of his origins. It was as if he'd only ever existed in Kate's world, something he knew to be untrue. Yet Kate's father was the only father he remembered. Mr Spencer had been kind to him so he loved him as he loved Kate. But he knew her father was not his real father and that the "blood" running through his veins had some kind of magic in it. He felt different to other boys his age - happier roaming the woods than sitting in a classroom.

Harrison, in his final year of school, was still a problem. Once, when he was home from school for a weekend and Mr Spencer was at a business conference in Brussels, Greta was called away for the afternoon. Kate's older brother rounded up the children after she left and locked them together in the attic after inviting some of his older school friends round to party. Harrison thought it would be fun to terrify the "little kids". Neither Kate nor Heath rewarded him with their tears but there had been an all-out fight in the hallway after the children had somehow managed to break the lock. Harrison hadn't expected this but it was the last time he underestimated Heath's strength.

When Kate's father arrived home early, only to discover Heath and Kate amidst a mess of teen partying and chaos, he hit the roof. Mr Spencer packed Harrison off to the strictest boy's boarding school in the South of England to complete his finals. It was a place where corporal punishment was yet to be banned another reason for the older brother to harbour resentment against the smaller children. They were soon to be packed off to Scotland, to a co-educational school, strict but far less rigid than where Harrison was going.

It was summer by then; Mr Spencer had grown frail just as Heath and Kate grew stronger and taller.

Hampstead was quiet. It was as if the entire borough had gone on holiday. Heath had taken to staying outside but on one particular rainy and overcast day, Kate took an entire chicken and a jug of orange juice out of the fridge and set out lunch in the upstairs playroom.

They sat together, enjoying their meal that last Saturday before they were due to board the train to Scotland. Both Kate and Heath had grown more studious in preparation for boarding school. They even finished reading the required list of books, lying on their backs, in the window seats of the playroom. Kate smiled at Heath - sometimes she thought her father had brought Heath home to be her exclusive friend.

September arrived after an endless summer of reading and night swimming in the indoor pool. The day before they were due to leave for Scotland, bright sun shone through the bay windows. Heath, uncomfortable, pulled his amulet close to his chest. His eyes felt sensitive to the light.

'C'mon children,' Greta said, wanting to make their last day at Hareton Hall memorable. 'Rise and shine. It's a lovely day. Why don't we all take a picnic outside and go to Hampstead Heath? School doesn't start until Monday. C'mon, get dressed.'

The children were excited as they pulled on their shoes.

In the parklands, Greta spread the checked blanket out on the lavender field under an umbrella and the children hungrily heaped food on plates. Heath got bitten by ants but barely made a peep even when Greta soothed his calf with warm tea. The boy had never known such care and in all his young years, never seen a spread of such magnificence. He ate three pieces of turkey, a chicken leg, ham, a left over chop, a slice of bacon and a huge glass of orange juice. Kate and Greta drank tea and ate most of the cucumber sandwiches.

Afterwards, the children went running to the ponds to feed the ducks. As Greta lay reading a magazine, Kate and Heath discovered the hidden conservatory in a secluded part of the park. It was like being in another world, one far removed from London or Spain or family fighting or anywhere they had ever known - a glass palace with a covered in roof and shards of dappled, muted light (not enough to make Heath's skin burn). The building was filled with remarkable tropical trees and flowers growing in an adjusted temperature. There were even garden chairs to sit on and stare in wonderment at the magical surroundings. Both children thought the same thing; that they'd found a remarkable secret, a place where they could hide…and meet.

**Chapter Five**

_**Edmund and Annabelle**_

This secluded section of Hampstead Heath also led to a hidden laneway that attached Hareton Hall to The Grange. Kate and Heath ran down the lane and it brought them out in the garden of the neighbouring property. They laughed when they saw their neighbours, Edmund and Annabelle, in the distance. Viewed through the low, floor-length windows of the Grange, the Hunt siblings were taking private dancing lessons. Heath had never seen a ballet class and thought the whole thing was hysterically funny. Kate thought it was rather beautiful, but she would never admit that. The Grange was a world beyond billowing cream curtains where all seemed tranquil and safe. When the dance teacher tried to demonstrate with Edmund, how to partner, Heath literally fell on the ground laughing.

'Who's out there?' Edmund shouted, turning towards the window. Heath and Kate crouched out of sight, beneath the sill.

'Mind you keep your eyes up here while we are dancing,' the woman, wearing leg warmers and a tight hair bun, scolded him. Edmund reluctantly looked away. Annabelle glanced up when the teacher wasn't looking and noticed two children. The boy looked vaguely familiar to her, about the same age, running away from the house in the long grass. The girl tumbled in the heather and before long they were laughing and running, fading into the meadow.

If anyone had asked, Annabelle would have described them as the opposite of her and her brother; free. The blonde girl wished she could join them. Instead, her glacial, childish image, secured in tight ballet slippers and pink ribbons, her unsmiling yet lovely face, mocked her in the mirror.

That night, Heath lay awake under the covers of his bed, his school trunk packed, his uniforms tagged with his initials, perfectly starched and ironed. The summer wind outside howled through the trees and rain fell softly on the roof. He could see shadows of the branches outside. A breeze swept through the heath across the pond and along the heather fields. Then all he could hear were the traces of it, and in those traces, a whisper, and in that whisper, the sound of a tap at his door.

Kate came wandering into his room with her hair in curlers as she wanted to make a good "first day" impression at her new school.

'You look ridiculous,' Heath said. 'Go back to bed. You know Greta has warned you about not distracting me now that we are going to be in separate houses at our new school.'

Kate, hurt, turned and walked out of the room. Heath was sorry to have been so mean but how could he explain his issues to Kate? Lately, the desire to sink his teeth into her wrist was becoming stronger. He'd been taking his medication twice a day and was just about to take his evening dose when Kate arrived to tell him her hopes and dreams for the future. She'd gone back to her room, crawled upon her quilted bed and fallen asleep, listening to the storm rage outside her window.

Late, very late that night, the young girl woke to the sound of the screaming trees and the branches thrashing the window pane. She would not be rejected this time and opened the connecting door to find Heath fast asleep.

'Heath,' Kate whispered. 'Wake up.'

'What's wrong?' the boy said, crawling out from the sleeping bag he slept in for security – the one Greta had tried, with little success, to take away from him these past six years.

'I had a dream about us.'

'Shh. Go back to sleep, Kate.'

'I dreamt I was left outside in the rain, freezing in winter. I cut my arm on your window and it bled and hurt and I had to beg you to let me inside…'

Heath groaned. 'Don't say things like that Kate. I would never hurt you.' He moved uncomfortably, the venom sometimes pulsed more strongly in his blood at night, but he'd never told anyone this. 'Go back to sleep, Kate. It's almost morning. You know Greta doesn't like it when you come in here anymore…' He was due to take his morning vitamins, and then he'd be sure to feel normal for at least eight hours.

Heath rolled over. Kate hovered again and began to cry as she rocked his sleeping bag, forcing him to open his eyes.

'Heath, Heath, wake up.' He rolled over unwillingly. 'Promise me…promise me something.'

'Alright, I promise, now go back to sleep.'

'Promise me, if that ever happens, you'll let me in.'

'Heath smiled and shook his head sleepily, 'I promise. Now go back to bed.' Heath took his capsules from the bedside table and gulped them down in the morning light.

Kate crawled beside him, dragging her blanket around her, as he turned over. The girl gained comfort from her nightmare only when she managed to rest her head in the crook of the reluctant boy's shoulder.

**Chapter Six **

_**Katarina – Present Day**_

After a relatively comfortable sleep and the beginnings of an unusual story told to me by Greta Gardner as I sat by the fire in the owner's favourite chair, I was more than intrigued. I finally visited The Hall the next morning, cited the property, spoke briefly to the owner regarding matters of importance and took down the details required. I was then, surprisingly, invited to dinner at the pub the following week to finish up our business. As I drove out of the gravel driveway and slowly passed the pub, I saw that it was closed for the morning. I imagined the fireside warmly lit in the evening and the owner, who harboured his own secrets, sitting in my place.

That evening, Heath sat in his favourite armchair, reading the newspaper with more interest than he usually showed. He had the look of a burnt out rock star in his late twenties, still handsome and relatively young. He called his dog to heel and turned to sit at his chair near the fire. Greta was nowhere in sight; she'd gone home earlier to take care of her own children. A barman had taken her place.

Heath was sipping ale and still reading the newspaper when he heard a gaggle of shrieking teenagers who instantly irritated him. It was legal to drink at eighteen but he wondered why - girls dressed like tramps in denim shorts and black tights chugging down alcohol was a negative result. He should have imposed a dress code, he thought gruffly. Society had really gone downhill since the nineties. Then he remembered some of the looks of that era were pretty bad, too. He must be getting old, he thought, although no one would have known it. His face was harder but retained the handsome, boyish features of his youth. Recently, since turning thirty-nine, he'd felt quite ancient. Yet many of his business associates assumed he was much younger than he really was. There was no point in an explanation, revealing the secret of his youth.

He resigned to gruffly patting his dog and when he looked up the teenaged girls began joking around, making more noise than before. One of them, with long blonde hair and too much black mascara, waved at him. He turned away and stoked the fire. He wondered where their parents were and felt annoyed that his candle-lit lair was being infiltrated by the local riff raff. He looked back at his paper and shook his head.

His own son, annoyingly public school educated and hopelessly addicted to clubbing and drinking and smart-mouthing him, would no doubt have tried to chat them up. Heath had mostly, throughout his bizarre and unexpected life, been interested in people who at least seemed the same age as he really was. Since school, he'd felt people who hadn't lived as much of the journey as he had, had less to teach him. There was also the inevitable problem of his lack of ageing. People had started to notice. One of his old school acquaintances had asked him if he was on human growth hormones.

Hard living had taken its toll but Heath would never look older than thirty. His specialist told him that, realistically, he shouldn't expect to physically age more than twenty-six years (the age when his bones stopped growing and his venom fully matured). His sleeplessness kept him looking closer to thirty. The only thing that could finish him was a prolonged dose of sunlight or a stake through his heart, but agelessness, immortality was becoming a problem. His friends and associates looked a decade older. The longer he stayed in Hampstead, the more the whispers grew until they became openly hostile questions.

Heath flicked past the entertainment section in the paper, highlighting yet another vapid celebrity. His gaze then rested on the financial columns of the newspaper.

Normally these articles would have bored him but since the most recent financial crisis, he'd found them a lot more interesting. The companies he'd bought and discarded prior to 2008 had made him very rich, even richer than the acquisition of land and residential property. He was so wealthy that he only kept the Hampstead house out of sentiment. Just the thought of being nostalgic at his age, when some were just beginning family life, made him question his own sanity.

The candle on the low table near him flickered and his dog barked, unexpectedly, causing Heath to look up from his paper; what he saw made him catch his breath for the first time in years.

Kate's face.

The hair was lighter and straighter, but the face and body were the same. Her eyes were identical. Dark brown and large with long black lashes, hiding secrets he had only learnt once: same height, same face, same voice. His breath was taken away with a low sigh and he knew if he didn't speak to this woman… who was barely more than a girl, he would regret it forever. Still, it would take another drink to work up the courage.

The girl, in her long cream scarf looked up and matched his gaze. In the minute it took for Heath to decide whether to speak with her, the band played that song Kate loved….

'_It's my favourite,' Kate had said, laughing as she swapped earphones and grabbed Heath's hand in the clandestine meeting they'd had in the ten minutes before morning classes started. 'You can't imagine how much I love this song,' she added, dragging him through the school hall making a sunny spectacle of herself…wearing way too much eyeliner to get through the day without detention._

The girl was the image of Kate, yet not Kate. She ordered a fizzy drink but a pint of ale was placed in front of her. She glanced around the room, noting Heath's drink which had somehow been swapped with hers. The waiter was clearly not paying attention. Heath wondered if he'd finally lost his mind as the girl's stare intensified. She looked back at the barman. Oblivious to being studied, Kate's double wore a jaunty beret on her dark hair and had a colourful smile on her lips as her friends toasted her birthday.

'Happy eighteenth Katarina!' they yelled in unison.

Heath remembered the date. He was reminded every year.

In that moment, he hesitated to approach her and instead, glanced down at his paper. Moments later, as Heath read wearily beside the fire, a voice said, 'I think we've been given the wrong drink.'

Heath could not resist a question as he looked up at her shiny adolescent face and she replaced the cocktail glass in front of him with the ale.

'You're not, it can't be, Kate Spencer's daughter?'

'Kate? Oh, you mean my mother Kate?'

'Yes.'

'I suppose so. I'm Katarina Hunt. This is my birthday, obviously,' the girl said, glancing back at her friends who hovered near the bar.

'I know,' Heath said, surprised anyone would think he could forget such a thing.

'My father and I live just across the Heath. I've seen your photograph in the newspaper. You must be, my uncle?'

Her statement was so loaded Heath didn't know where to begin.

'Yes. You…you are my son's cousin.'

'My cousin… that's right… big family secret, no one speaks about it. None of the family even speaks to each other, clearly. How is it possible you don't look a day over thirty?'

'It's…the dark,' Heath replied.

She made a joke of it as only the young can. She was looming at the table now and had the audacity to pat his dog on its shaggy head. Heath's pet beamed from all her attention, a fact that Heath found mildly irritating.

'Do I… do I look like my mother?' the teenage girl said as the fire flickered.

And then it occurred to Heath, that instead of answering he could make her an offer she'd find difficult to refuse. After all, it was not too late and it was the girl's right to meet her cousin and see her mother's childhood home.

'Why don't you come back with me… to Hareton Hall? Her portrait remains on the wall. I'm headed there now. You can meet your cousin. There are also some photographs you might never have seen from…before. I'm sure your…father…won't mind.'

Katarina's eyes flashed and Heath saw a great deal of Kate's personality once again. It almost scared him, but not quite.

'Heel,' he said to his dog who'd started yapping excitedly (again) and was obviously beside himself at the smell of new company.

'Behave yourself,' Heath growled.

'Well, my friends…'

Katarina glanced back to the bar as the tall girl with blonde hair wandered over and gave Heath a bemused smile. Katarina introduced them to each other.

'Oh, so this is your uncle, Katty?' the girl asked in disbelief, as if to say, _yeah, right, he's way too young and hot._

'Kind of…we've only just met.'

Katarina's friend stifled a giggle as if she didn't believe her but either way, she didn't care. If Katty wanted to chat to this hot older man, that was her affair.

'Well, the night is young and so are we but we have to be going, early game tomorrow and all that. Are you coming with us Kat?'

At that moment Heath wore his most amiable expression.

Katarina knew she might only get this one chance to discover all she could about the people she'd only seen once or twice in old photographs.

The man in front of her was young and extremely handsome, yet so hard and cold. Something in her desired to visit his world, meet the cousin she'd never met as a child, see the house where her mother had been raised, learn the secret her family had kept for a generation.

'No,' Kate said. Then she looked at Heath and added, 'I'm coming with you.'

**Chapter Seven**

_**The Storm **_

His cravings had been less extreme this evening and he was fairly sure the parlour, where he kept his supply of freshly caught game, was locked. He did not wish this stranger to encounter an instant surprise. It would turn her off ever returning and Heath did not want to risk that just yet. He could only imagine the look of horror on her face if she was to discover his secret. They reached the gates through the midnight mist and Heath stopped the car with a jolt. He drove the vehicle fast and hard. He was not used to having guests. Heath had little thought for his passenger. Katarina arrived at the house looking white and surprised.

The girl shivered.

'Are you cold?'

'Yes.'

'Here, take this,' he said absently.

Heath pulled a red shawl out of the glove compartment and handed it to her.

'Who's?'

'It was your mother's,' he added.

Katarina didn't bother to ask what it was doing in his car.

The girl's fingers had practically frozen during the twenty minute drive that took them from icy country lane to mansion gates. Katarina had heard about this place only once during her childhood, had seen it from the heath but had never dared venture into its overrun grounds. They entered the hidden garden through the foggy, wrought iron gates that led to Hareton Hall.

After a few minutes of walking across slippery grounds, strange, open-mouthed statues greeted Katarina at the grand entrance.

Her father had never allowed her to speak of the Spencers and especially not her uncle. But recently, she and her cousin Linus had connected via the web and Katarina was more than a little intrigued about the mysterious 'other half' of her family. The outside lights came on as they walked over the gravel towards the front door which was overrun with creepers.

Her father would be concerned about her late night visit to The Hall but Katarina was fed up with being wrapped in egg shells. She pulled the red shawl round her shoulders and stuffed her curls into her woollen cap, dragging it over her ears.

'Quick,' Heath said, rubbing his hands. 'It's frozen out here. Be careful of the ice.'

She took his arm, surprised at how hard and strong the muscles felt. She hadn't expected her workaholic uncle to be so welcoming.

'I give the staff leave on weekends, can't stand them about me and I usually work on Saturdays anyway,' he added, amiably enough. _Rude, arrogant, reclusive_ were all words she had heard in connection with this man. So far, he was nothing like his press.

Apart from a few cobwebs at the side of the stone entrance, which was covered with climbing plants, the interior of the hall was miraculous; turning a simple switch lit up grand chandeliers that led to a parlour, kitchen and vast hall and dining room. There was a series of ancestral portraits lining the walls to the right of the entrance - one of her mother. The interiors were lush but tasteful.

Heath wandered into the kitchen after they'd walked the length of the entrance.

Katarina was agog. She was used to being the richest girl at her all-girls' school but she had never seen such opulence. Her hand brushed the entrance hall side table and wall

of mirrors as they walked towards the drawing room.

'Ah, I see Greta's left a note. Greta was my housekeeper and she used to look after your mother and me…when we were little. She was not much older than we were. Seems funny now,' he mused as he found the key to the cabinet.

'Greta locks it, she gets worried when I drink alone,' Heath said, 'but I know where she hides the key.'

Katarina looked around her.

'Another drink?' Heath asked.

'Yes,' Katarina said.

'Something stronger?'

'Yes, please.'

'Brandy?'

'Okay.'

'Brandy is best on cold winter nights,' Heath chuckled to himself, pouring her less than he normally would, though she had officially reached legal drinking age. Katarina wondered if he was over the limit but his hand was steady as he carried the decanter into the Edwardian drawing room. Drinking brandy in the evenings was as normal to Heath as breathing.

'Was this once…a ballroom?' Katarina asked as she unwound her red scarf with the graceful moves of a ballet dancer.

'It was not,' Heath said, sitting easily on the black leather sofa.

'It is definitely big enough.'

'Funny. I remember thinking that when I arrived here the first time. Actually, the ballroom was upstairs. For some reason, the children's rooms were built connecting to it, so we often heard dancing - "partying" as you'd put it - loud noises, fighting. He noticed the look of surprise on Kate's face.

'Where's Linus?'

'Not home yet, apparently. Probably at a dance club.'

'Oh. I met him once, online.'

'How modern,' Heath mused.

Heath checked his text as the wind started to howl and announce its presence in a storm. The rain trickled down slowly at first, like water on tin, then the storm gushed through the

open window, spraying its fury over the low table and threatening a vase of flowers. Katarina moved to hold it upright.

Heath's phone beeped, relaying a text.

'That's Linus. He won't be home for an hour or so; nice of him to let me know. To be honest Katarina, I thought you might be a…good influence on my son.'

Heath pulled the window down as far as it would go, shutting out most of the storm.

'Why? Is he out of control?' Katarina joked.

Heath turned to look at the girl squarely.

'He is spoiled, Katarina, and weak. I fear I may have indulged him.'

Katarina glanced at the photographs on the wall. She wasn't sure how to respond to his directness.

'But you have another…son?'

'Oh, that's Harrison's wife's brother, Hinton. He lives here and works in the evenings. You may have already met him. He studies at the same college,' Heath said, starting to feel the familiar tightness in his arms. He'd need to feed and take his medication soon.

Katarina had told Heath during the car trip all about where she studied.

'I've heard about him,' she said, reluctant to tell Heath about his nephew's reputation. The girl looked around and sighed as the storm and the darkness swamping the confines of The Hall seemed to embrace her. Heath was taken aback at the image she made in the half-light, so similar to the photographs he had of Kate, tucked away in his wardrobe. The need to take his vitamins and drink Magenta overcame Heath. He quickly excused himself and began to walk out of the room.

'I'll get some photographs,' he offered. 'Should keep you busy until Linus returns at some unearthly hour. I'm not even sure which club he's gone to but once he's out he doesn't come home until late. I could drive you back to The Grange, but to be honest, we should wait for the weather to clear.'

'Of course,' Katarina said. There was obviously no choice since storm warning, news flashes were being broadcast. Heath turned to leave the room and Katarina flicked the switch on the flat screen and turned on some music instead. Something old and classical, Katarina thought. The low lighting flashed once and then the power went completely: no television, no CD, no sound except the thrashing of water on trees.

'I'll get the candles,' Heath offered. 'I know where Greta keeps them,' he added.

'Okay.'

Kate froze. The house was way creepier in the dark.

Moments later, Heath came back with lamps for each of them.

'Old-fashioned, I know, but they work.'

It occurred to Heath that from outside the window any stranger could see him entertaining a young female. Of course, they'd have to make it past the vast security on the neighbouring property, which he also owned, to find this place. Still, the thought suddenly bothered him as he pulled the curtains. His intentions for this girl had nothing to do with forming any kind of connection with her. She was merely the final piece in the jigsaw puzzle that formed his bizarre life, if that's what it was called.

He was determined not to let her realize she was trapped. The girl must want to stay, he thought, at least for now. He wondered how to get her to agree, as he stopped in the kitchen and took his medication mixed with protein powder. Heath was able to drink a variety of blood but tonight he felt like 0-negative. He glanced out the window as he guzzled, noting the heaviness of the rain. The dark, vicious winters fuelled his fantasies… and his nightmares. When he finished drinking, he thought he should find the photographs first - distract the girl.

He'd heard the neighbours at the pub gossiping about Hareton Hall but their stories had never bothered him until now.

He ventured into Kate's old room in the half-light and opened the door to her wardrobe which was a converted spare room. Her things had barely been touched since they'd been packed away when Kate had left The Hall forever. He was tall and could easily reach the top shelf but her many shoes had been piled together. There was a loud crash as some folders tumbled down in front of him.

_Blast that boy_, he thought. Of course Hinton had been in here rummaging through their old school texts and files. People often wondered why he'd adopted Hinton from Harrison as a six year old, but he never liked to comment publicly on family matters. He didn't believe in filling the gossip columns with his motives and every minute detail of his family

life though people in cyberspace now did. It was bad enough that the many girlfriends he'd had over the years since his wife left him had talked about him publicly. Heath felt social networking sometimes degenerated into an excuse for public one-upmanship and he wanted no part of that. But then, he had more than most to hide.

He wondered what the boy could possibly have been looking for in the room that now housed a filing cabinet in the corner. He recalled a recent conversation with Greta as he rummaged…

'Let's be honest Heath, I'm fed up with your haphazard lifestyle. I promised to stay until the children were raised and they're grown up now…almost. They don't need me anymore and nor do you. Everything's under control.'

'Don't leave us, Greta.'

'That's not the point Heath. The place itself is just _filled _with ghosts. I don't mean literally, I mean from the past…and you should think about selling it…for your own good. I have my own children to raise, Heath. Move on. Get married again. Start anew. Put away the old ways, Heath. Revive yourself. That's my advice, for all the good it will do…'

Heath had looked at her as if she were mad. He'd even had the house redecorated just to please her and had converted the drawing room into a room of Edwardian taste bathed in blue light, a blue-seeming flame in the fireplace, candles and candelabras and lush crystal chandeliers. The lounge room had been updated from its 80's look to the modern era with sunken leather furniture and various reference journals and magazines lining the covered shelves. Heath had always refused to take down the portraits.

'I tell you Heath, living in the past is no good for anyone,' Greta had told him.

'You don't know the half,' he'd said dismissively as he walked down the stairs and out the door to the office building he worked in (and owned) deep in the City of London.

On this night, he turned up the paraffin lamp to find what he was seeking and reached to grasp it.

Meanwhile, Katarina, who felt a little like a trapped bird waiting out the storm which had begun in earnest, wandered over to the fire and started going through a pile of old CDs (there were even some old vinyl albums!) which lay around the edges of the brick. Her cousins mostly liked the same music although both of them seemed to be more into "house" than she was.

She was glad her father, a kind man, had taught her to appreciate all musical styles over the years even though he'd insisted on piano lessons to fill The Grange with the music that had left it, along with her mother. Katarina noticed the grand piano gathering dust in the corner and imagined her mother, Kate, once playing it.

Katarina remembered her mother's face from photographs. She had been so young when she had Katarina, only eighteen. Katarina glanced into the glass above the fire. The girl realised, as she rubbed the life back into her cold cheeks, that her mother had been the same age as she was now; the same age as her uncle would remember her.

Weary from the long day and warmed with brandy, Katarina slumped on the couch. It was a good thing she didn't need to go back to college tomorrow, or anywhere, really. The rain and hail began to pelt down forming sleet outside the window. She texted her father, so he wouldn't worry. There was no need to fill him in on the details. He'd assume she was with friends. Besides, it would be foolhardy to travel on the country roads just now, though the haunted interiors of this opulent palace made her feel like a trapped bird.

**Chapter Eight**

_**Winter Nights**_

Finally, Heath shone the torch on the dusty old shoe box he was looking for.

'This should satisfy her imagination,' he thought.

Inside lay a pile of photographs, taken pre-digitally, tied in a bundle with a red ribbon. The photographs were of the Spencers, as children, at the local primary school and playing together on Hampstead Heath. There were more taken at boarding school in Scotland. They had not been looked at or moved for almost twenty years and the top of the box was thick with dust, but other than that, the photographs were in remarkably good condition.

Heath rubbed his arms. He could anticipate need now, the need for his medication, the need for blood. Heath could feel the surge of want and desire in his venom. The tightness in his calves and wrists would move through his body as his strength seemed to decrease physically. He'd neglected his pint of blood this evening, which he always drank before eight pm, but then he'd never had visitors to distract him. He looked at the photograph in his hand.

'Your beautiful face,' Heath whispered, fingers tracing the paper outline of her jaw as he held the edge of the torch in his mouth He dropped it when he heard the dog bark and the girl cry out. He rushed down the stairs to the drawing room.

Rain streamed in through the broken window creating a fast-growing puddle of water in the drawing room. He walked over to block the window with a chest of drawers as the girl shrank into the corner of the wall…

'I… I went to close the shutter and someone tried to grab my hand.'

Heath paused.

'You must have imagined it Katarina. It was the wind and the rain. The winds are strong; it's so isolated out here. A noise sounds louder than it really is. Shadows seem like people. Now, calm yourself. Here, take a seat and have a sip of your drink. I'll make some tea.

Katarina sat on the couch, shocked and shaken.

'How did you do that? Move the chest so easily? Pull down the window as if it was as light as a feather?'

Heath finished his drink and paused.

'It's not as heavy as it looks'

The answer seemed to satisfy Katarina who continued, 'The fingers, they were so cold…her skin was…white. She wore a nightgown.'

'Honestly Katarina, you sound like you've read too many horror stories…'

'Suddenly, I feel like I'm living one.'

'Only suddenly?' Heath said sarcastically. 'You wouldn't be the first to say that. I'm thinking of selling it…. But nevertheless, it's not safe to leave now.'

'It's not safe to stay…'

'Nonsense…mind plays tricks in here. I'll take you home the minute the storm finishes or morning comes…whichever arrives first.'

Katarina sighed as Heath smiled and helped her to her feet. Her father had clearly exaggerated. No stranger could have been more welcoming.

Heath smiled again as he settled a mohair rug around the girl. Katarina accidentally touched his hand and was shocked. His palm was as cold as ice. He withdrew his hand quickly and rubbed his fingers together.

'Thank you,' Katarina said, pretending not to notice. Little did she know what an effort it was to play nice. Heath had managed to take a few more sips of blood in his bedroom before going to find the photos and was feeling somewhat revived. He had no attraction to this girl's blood. In any case, it was strange. He hadn't even thought of drinking her, especially as he was hungry. He'd trained himself to withhold when it came to people he liked or met as friends. Perhaps this came from being "mixed-race". Heath's specialist had once considered him that rarest of things; a vampire-human hybrid. Now, he felt more vampire than hybrid.

'I aim to please,' he said cheerily, aware how bland he sounded. He handed her the photograph album as he spoke. 'We open the grounds to visitors in the summer now that…my wife has left and the children have grown up. I usually move to the Southern Hemisphere and enjoy the winter in New Zealand (Heath wanted to add, _'It's cold there when it's hot here and there's an endless supply of animal protein and blood and no one asks any questions_.') Instead, he used the open house story as an excuse, adding, 'I was…opposed to it at first, but the visitors bring in extra revenue and I don't have to put up with them… and, it all goes to a good cause - my charity for abandoned children…'

Her uncle sat opposite her now, sipping his brandy as he discussed the plight of orphans.

How could a man who was involved in charitable causes be as bad as her father had said?

The phone rang. Heath picked up the receiver. He spoke curtly as Katarina poured over the photographs on her lap.

'That was Linus,' Heath added, after he hung up. 'He's been caught up in the West End and Hinton is working late at the studio. He goes to evening classes sometimes. I just got a text. They don't speak to me usually. Apparently, I spent too much of my energy on work when they were growing up and now they don't want to know me.' Heath rationalized this partial lie as easier than the truth.

Katarina looked intently at the photographs of two children dressed up formally for a family function in the grounds of Hareton Hall. They looked like twins apart from the fact that one was a little taller than the other.

'That's us, when I first came to live with the Spencers,' Heath said.

'You both look…so sweet,' Katarina said. 'I was wondering…why didn't my father like you?'

Heath paused, wondering how much to tell the girl.

'He didn't like me because he thought he was better than me…it's as simple as that.'

The girl shook her head incredulously. 'Oh…but my father would never…'

'It…was different then. Everything was different.'

Heath smiled. Katarina noticed his perfect, white teeth.

'It's late, we can continue our discussion at a later date,' Heath added, rising from his chair.

It bothered him slightly to have her in the house all night, not because he cared what anyone would think but… well, for reasons which had already become obvious. The house itself…was unreliable, strange… creepy. His desires were manageable. He was determined she would not discover his secret but the girl had made an accurate assessment of hidden forces that swirled through the hall like ghosts.

'When was this taken?' Katarina asked as Heath stood up.

The girl held the photograph of two children, the boy with an untucked shirt, messy hair and wayward striped tie, and the girl, standing up straight with knee high white socks and braids. The boater hat sat atop her perfectly styled hair.

Heath looked at the photo dismissively.

'First day of boarding school, Greta took us to the train. We each had trunks with our names engraved on them in gold.' Heath smiled at the memory.

'Really…I didn't know you and mother went to school together.'

'We didn't…not really. There was a boys' school and a girls' school. They shared the same playing fields.'

'Did you meet up in secret then?'

He suddenly tired of Katarina's constant questions and wanted someone else to distract her. He didn't expect her to be so smart, or to like her, even a little. Perhaps she had more of her mother in her than her father.

'Sometimes,' he said warily, 'Kate…your mother…came to my football games.'

The storm howled outside as if to prove a point. Heath walked heavily over to the bay windows and checked the locks from the inside to prevent the incessant rattle which shook the room in the dark. Usually, it drizzled here but tonight was different. Tonight reminded him of Scotland and the stormy night his band played in the school hall for the first time.

'I like this photograph,' Katarina said. 'I've never seen it before. Where did she get the outfit?'

Kate stood on the stairs of a ballroom in a beautiful, low-cut, pink satin drop-waisted dress wearing high heels, tassels on the knee length hem and a sequinned choker around her head. 'It was the school formal, I suppose they call it a "prom" on those American TV shows,' he said dismissively. 'The theme of the occasion was 1920s,' he warmed to the memory, 'The band I was in tried playing jazz, dressed as gangsters. We thought we were so cool. Your mother, Kate, was determined to be the centre of attention that night…' Heath looked at the photograph and smiled.

As if reading his thoughts, Katarina said, 'Wearing that dress, I bet she succeeded.'

**Chapter Nine**

_**Sixteen**_

Kate had gone to buy the dress on one of their rare Saturday mornings in Edinburgh. They were sixteen and Kate was determined to drag Heath into town with her to pick up the dress. He pretended not to care because he hated shopping but secretly enjoyed having Kate as his exclusive companion during their journey. He'd grown older and stronger in their years at boarding school. He was managing his condition, and no one except Kate had ever guessed.

The boy enjoyed any excuse for freedom outside the school grounds. He didn't see Kate at all during school hours. Although he'd hated being sent away at first, he found the regimented atmosphere of sports and lessons suited him more than he ever imagined it would. Being able to climb higher, jump faster, bat harder and kick longer in games gave him an edge and made him popular with other boys, but it wasn't them he wanted to impress most.

Heath pretended it was an imposition as the note was delivered to his class. He and Kate arranged to meet, catch the bus and have lunch in an old-fashioned tea room (Heath would have preferred lunch at the pub, obviously, but this compromise meant he'd just have to pick the meat off the sandwiches). Besides, to impress Kate, he wanted to go along with her wishes.

Edinburgh on Saturday morning in April was a jostling, architecturally spectacular city. The light was low, like London but the open wind made it pleasantly colder. Heath wished he could have driven the car he'd been saving to buy from the "business" he ran after lights out. All of the boys from his boarding house were involved in a betting game related to the school fixtures. Heath would have been suspended, or worse, if it was discovered they were using real money to bet. The game had been running for more than a year and Heath, as bookmaker, was making a handsome profit. With his winnings, Heath and Kate could have taken a car if he'd been allowed to drive but the school (stupid school that it was in relation to rules) forbade it.

Heath would have ignored the rule, like most of the other rules at the school, if it hadn't been so difficult to break without being noticed. He was careful not to draw too much attention to himself. Being taller, faster, smarter and better looking (according to Kate) than other boys, made this difficult. Because boys placed less value on looks and more on accomplishment, they didn't dislike him as much as they would have if they'd all been girls and one outshone the others. Really, his mates looked up to him in a way he was sure they wouldn't, if they knew the truth. He kept his medication hidden. He kept his drinking supplies (type O in secluded plastic packages from the blood bank) in a locked, private fridge that (as house captain) he had exclusive access to. The school nurse was told as little as possible. She thought Heath had a rare condition and relayed instructions from his doctor without telling anyone or asking too many questions.

Edinburgh wasn't home to him but he had grown fond of the city. He thought one day he and Kate might live there or maybe New York or London if she had a preference. Anywhere dark and cold but populated would be good. They both liked entertainment and crowds they could blend in to. He glanced at Kate sitting beside him on the bus. Neither of them had their head phones on, preferring each other's silences to music. He looked at her profile, her perfect features and warm smile, her fragile collarbones leading to her neck.

He tried to stop the thought. Yes, her smile was beautiful, though he'd never told Kate this but it was her body and soul he wanted to possess, just as she possessed his, in theory. The warmth of her skin, her blood - intangible and unknown - was a perfect mystery to him. He tried to avoid staring longingly at the tiny rippled vein above her shirt collar. Heath inched his hand across without looking at her. When she laced her warm fingers around his gloved ones, as they approached the main cobbled street, the venom in his veins pulsed.

Kate always asked after him in a whisper. _How was he feeling? Not too weak or strong? Not tired or sleepy? Weird? _(Always weird!) _Did he need her to go with him to see a specialist? No_.

Heath insisted he was as normal as possible. He wanted no fuss. They were discovering new treatments constantly and he was perfectly fine; he'd be okay…just like her. Only, he knew he was nothing like her. Not really - apart from their obvious physical resemblance which, creepily, made others assume a biological connection that didn't exist.

Kate smiled. She loved the fact that, lately, her attention seemed to make Heath nervous. It was strange and unexpected and thrilling; he'd agreed to come with her to pick up her dress. They came into town only when they got a leave pass, and she knew Heath disliked shops. There was no way he'd do this for just anyone, least of all Annabelle Hunt. To say Kate wasn't really fond of Annabelle was an understatement. Kate did not place huge value on female friendship and Annabelle had a job ahead of her trying to befriend Kate. Kate often outshone other girls her age and had been brought up around boys. Besides, Kate was still getting over the fact that the Hunts had been sent to the same boarding school. In any case, Kate felt she had little in common with other teenage girls. Many had tried to befriend her, briefly, only for Kate to discover their real desire was to become close to Heath.

It had taken Kate ages to get used to seeing the Hunts every day at school. She suspected it was harder for Heath who understandably harboured a grudge against them. Kate knew if they ever found out who… or what Heath really was, they'd be shocked. They might even shun him. Kate didn't want Heath to have to go through that. She didn't want to give the other girls and boys a chance to reject him. He was hers, Kate thought possessively as she linked her arm through his.

One day he would be fierce and fully grown. By then, there might not be laws discriminating against vampires. One day, Heath might be able to be honest about who he really was. But until then, it would be easier to stay in the shadows. Kate often read marginalized news items with titles like, _Blood Stocks Low_, and stories about the "threats on the London tube," and the "new hybrid species of humans" with "unidentifiable blood types", rumoured to exist. No one had ever come out as a hybrid…or a vampire, for fear of being ostracised.

The pair rounded the corner from the main street to the bus stop.

'C'mon,' Heath said, pulling Kate's hand. 'Let's get off here and walk the rest of the way.'

'Okay,' Kate replied. She wondered if he ever noticed how adoring she was in his company. Kate certainly hoped not. They had never kissed. Heath was worried it might get out of hand and he'd fang her before he controlled himself. He was not yet fully grown and might be so out of control he couldn't resist and Kate could end up missing a chunk out of her neck or worse.

Kate was secretive about her feelings for him or as secretive as she could be. How could he not notice that she worshipped every step he took, to a degree that both excited and scared her? She was glad to be wearing the jeans and new jumper she'd ordered from a London catalogue. She was dressed fashionably but Heath barely looked. He was too busy hungrily glancing into the eyes of strangers.

Together, they reached the shops in double quick time. These days, Heath seemed to almost merge through crowds. He could look into her eyes, and she would know what he wanted before he'd even said it. They were becoming twin souls.

'This is good,' Heath said. 'The people traffic isn't too dense. We can get this over with and then have some lunch before they call out the search and rescue dogs for us.'

Heath was always hungry.

'I thought you got…permission to come,' Kate said.

'No…ah, not exactly,' Heath said. He'd handed in an unfinished assignment and had been asked to stay back on Saturday and complete it. Heath liked to bend the rules and had climbed out the window. Kate shrugged, knowing the teachers liked him too much for him to ever get into serious trouble. She was secretly thrilled he'd risked a further detention for her.

Together, they rounded the corner of a laneway and walked past a fish and chip shop that sold deep fried fish, chicken and… chocolate bars?

'I've always wanted to try one of those,' Kate said as she walked into the boutique next door.

'Your every wish must be granted. Wait there,' he said.

Kate loved it when Heath said things like that, flattered her and made a joke of her vanity. He ran into the shop and ordered two battered treats; he returned minutes later as Kate wrapped tightly in her long coat, hovered outside the shop. Heath held two wrapped packages. He gave Kate the first one; a battered chocolate bar with soft caramel oozing in the centre, whilst he chomped on the other - deep fried chicken. Kate's coat bag was draped carefully over her arm as they sat in the bus shelter and ate hungrily.

'Mmm… yummy,' Kate said.

'Like I said, your every wish is my command.'

'Nothing but the best for me, hey Heath…' Kate joked.

'I thought that was what you wanted…' the boy said, suddenly worried he had misread her.

'Of course, this is one of the highlights of my sixteen years…'

'Mine too…' Heath said, smiling. Heath had the nicest smile Kate had ever seen, the thickest brown hair and the kindest eyes. His teeth were perfect, (although she missed his little fangs, retracted so long she hadn't seen them in years). Kate looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring at his mouth.

Moments later, Kate screamed as a bus sped by and the water in the gutter splashed them. In seconds, water pools swirled around their feet and the edges of their jeans were soaked in muddy rain.

'Oh well,' Kate said, 'I suppose they can be dry cleaned…'

Heath looked at her, the warmth of his smile suddenly making even the cold weather feel less inclement. He moved closer. Kate could nearly feel his breath. The boy opened up his coat, snug and larger than hers and enveloped her in its dry warmth. Rain tumbled down from the sky. Heath's body temperature these days was not cold but he always seemed to need an extra jumper.

'This is Edinburgh for you,' Heath said. 'Quick…'

They moved from the bus stop, which was largely uncovered, to the shelter of the shop front. In the fading afternoon sun, Kate leaned in and kissed Heath, softly on the mouth. Heath was surprised and soon they were covering each other in sweet, warm kisses.

At first, Heath was reluctant. After Kate kissed him he leaned back hesitantly. Heath managed to kiss Kate again without wanting to drain the blood from her neck and felt only mild discomfort in his veins.

The discomfort soon turned to bliss. Being around her for so many years made control possible…just; he'd taken his medication while he waited for her. This "control" was a revelation to him. They kissed again. Heath suddenly pushed her away, feeling the tiny pang of his extending incisors.

'I'm…sorry,' Kate said.

'It's…it's not your fault. I'm just…'

'I know,' Kate whispered, turning his face to hers.

The boy shyly reached his gloved hands under her coat. Heath pulled Kate closer to him - so close she felt, for a moment, unable to breath. The depth of their affection scared her. She lowered her arms into him, stayed locked in his embrace and just as quickly pushed him away.

'I…I didn't expect us to be so…'

'What?' Heath said, unsurprised by the extraordinary feelings he felt. Alarmed she might be rejecting him, he suddenly felt his incisors extending again and turned his face away, ashamed.

'Look at me,' Kate said. He retracted his fangs fully in that moment before doing so, proving to himself that control was completely possible.

'I don't want us to have any secrets. I was going to say…good. Together we are so…'

'Bad?' he smiled. Heath leaned in towards her as they waited for the downpour to stop. Wrapped in each other's arms, they were glad to miss the first bus back to school.

**Chapter Ten**

_**Hinton**_

'It's late… ' Heath said, changing the subject as Katarina took another sip of tea.

It was past midnight and the storm hadn't subsided.

'Do you mind if I stay the night?'

Heath was mildly surprised but glad he hadn't had to make the suggestion.

'Of course not, I don't know when or even if the boys will be home, but there are six guest rooms and Greta should be in at eight in the morning. Take your pick. I'm just going to stay here by the fire, go through a few papers. I have a business meeting in the City tomorrow. Even though it's Saturday, some of the foreign markets don't sleep.'

'Mmm…' Katarina said. Normally she would have felt odd staying in a stranger's house. Before it was her uncle's it had, after all, been her mother's. Katarina was surprised Heath had become so traditional. He'd once dreamed of being a rock star according to a letter her mother had written (the only one that she had been allowed to read and keep).

Katarina gazed at her mother's portrait in the hallway. How was it possible to look so similar to a person you didn't know?

'Thank you. I just texted my father and he thinks I'm staying with my friend - the girl you met in the pub.'

'Blonde one, long hair?'

'Yes, that one,' Kate regularly excused Stacey's flirtatious behaviour.

Heath nodded, making himself seem more amiable than he was. He tried to imagine he hadn't dreamed of sinking his teeth into the blonde girl's neck and draining her until she shuddered.

'I was wondering if I could sleep in my mother's old room?'

Heath hesitated, but he knew refusal would put her off guard.

'Well…um, I don't think Greta has the bed made up.'

'Which one is it?'

'First right, top of the stairs, but…' He could feel his muscles tightening; he needed his medication and perhaps some protein from the larder…

'That's okay; I'll just take this…' Katarina gestured to the checked mohair blanket that had been wrapped around her. Before Heath could utter another word, she said good night and was bounding half way up the creaking staircase, two steps at a time, revealing her youth.

It would be a long night, Heath thought, as he finished his pint of Magenta and took some extra capsules. The storm water pelted down on the sill in the drawing room as the lights suddenly flashed. The dog jumped up and howled. His ears were alert to the unfamiliar sound of music playing from Kate's old bedroom.

'Settle,' Heath warned.

The dog nuzzled his head under his paws and softly growled instead. He sensed a person approaching.

Outside, Hinton, Heath's adopted son, walked alone towards the house. He was grown now, hunched over his plastic-wrapped package. It was his latest completed canvas, carefully covered. Hinton had lived at Hareton Hall since his sister, Frances, had arrived with him in tow eighteen years ago. Now he had no family but Heath and Linus. The boy wore a blue scarf, brown coat and ski hat pulled down over his ears. He'd been in central London finishing his Art History class and then he'd stayed on to assist the tutor during a photography lesson. Hinton was one of the best students at Art College and made extra cash tutoring. The class had been developing film (in a dark room during their lesson in pre-digital camera work) and some students had then decided to go into the West End for drinks. Before he knew, it was almost daybreak.

The boy hated going home. His uncle was legally his adopted father but Hinton always called him Heath. Before Hinton went off to class, Heath had been in a surlier mood than usual and was always on at him about "making something of his life" and going to work in the City at the family firm. Hinton couldn't believe he expected so much of him when he expected absolutely nothing of his own son. Linus, who was blonde like his mother, did little else except socialize and run dance parties in abandoned fields.

Heath and Hinton had countless arguments about Hinton's "lack of direction." Hinton knew Heath liked to keep his family close by and didn't want either of his sons to leave home before they had finished studying. He was a difficult and unsociable parent but he was the only parent Hinton had since his own had died shortly after his birth. Franny had raised him until her desire to flee The Hall after Harrison's death overcame her. Hinton was in school then and The Hall became his holiday home. Greta, who had children of her own to care for, only came in three days a week now.

Heath rarely trusted new people enough to actually employ them so when staff left, they were not replaced. Over the years only Greta remained. Hinton couldn't really believe how he'd been trapped into his adopted father's lair, especially since Heath had never actually been demonstrative towards him during his childhood. But then, he'd never shown much love to his own son, either. Slowly, Hareton Hall had become his home. And it was all because of _her,_ Hinton thought. As he neared the house, the first picture to greet him in the hallway would be Kate Spencer's.

Hinton was sceptical about love partly because of the rumours that connected her to his adopted father. Besides, Hinton was nineteen and had a reputation to uphold. He enjoyed "playing the field" as Heath used to say in the old days. Since Art College had more female students than males, the odds were definitely in his favour. Even so, Hinton couldn't wait to get out of Hampstead for good. As he walked up the drive, along the old stone road, shivering in the early hours of the morning, he considered the merits of leaving London. The borough was freezing and the cab from the station would only take him so far along the icy road now that the storm was subsiding. He often took the bus. There was nowhere to park in central London anyway and he hated asking Heath for money.

**Chapter Eleven**

_**Remember **_

Hinton was surprised that the lights were still on in the drawing room as he entered the house. The dog had slept by the fire until everyone else had gone to sleep. Then, he'd done as usual and wandered upstairs to lie at the foot of his master's bed.

The boy had removed his coat; he wore the latest sneakers and low rise jeans. Hinton wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. He hoped Greta had left something since. He was very hungry after hours of clubbing in Soho. He was often photographed there with various girlfriends, but lately, his shallow existence had begun to bother him. Perhaps he was more like his adopted father than he thought. The family photographs that filled the drawing room told barely half the story of its dysfunction.

Hinton shook his head at the pictures on the wall as he climbed the stairs. It was funny to him that Heath could give himself airs and graces but no one knew where he came from either. Heath could use the title bestowed upon him for "services to the economy" but that didn't make him a Lord, not in Hinton's eyes. He couldn't have cared less about titles but he thought it almost funny that he had to practically ask permission to live in his own house when his sister had more rights to it than Heath (who only owned the house because of a swindle…) but that was another story.

The boy was aware there were two sides to the family history. In the first version, Heath had "saved" him as a child from a vicious beating by his drunkard brother-in-law, Harrison. The other was contained in an apologetic note from Harrison years later. Truth lay somewhere in between. One thing Hinton knew for sure; Heath cheated Harrison out of his own home during a game of high-stakes poker.

There are always more sides to a story but this was the particular side that Hinton chose to believe. Before the bet, papers had been signed. Heath, the foundling child, had risen to become the rightful owner of Hareton Hall. Hinton grimaced in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth and splashed his face. His image was hazy with condensation. He rubbed the mirror with a towel and wiped his face dry. Hinton turned off the light and walked quietly to his room. Heath's light was on. As usual Hinton didn't bother to say goodnight. Instead, he flopped on his own bed fully clothed.

Heath wasn't so bad. He'd been more of a father than Harrison and treated him more like a biological son than the father he'd never met. Besides, unless he won the annual Art Prize at his college, he had nowhere else to go.

Hinton had flicked on the television news in his bedroom and was chugging orange juice and eating what was left of some roasted chicken, when he heard a piercing screech that made him walk into the hallway.

Doors flung open and Heath's dog bounded out of the main bedroom towards a room with blazing light under the door; a room that had never been used since his teenage aunt had inhabited it more than twenty years ago.

A dark-haired girl flung open the door and stood on the landing, looking pale and frightened in the half light. Hinton Spencer froze on the spot.

'Who are you?'

'I'm… I'm Katarina Hunt. You must be…'

'Hinton, your cousin by marriage, for all intents and purposes. I was adopted. Are you okay?'

'I don't know… I think I will be. Someone tried to get into my room.'

The boy, mesmerized by her white skin and red lips, stared at her longer than was necessary, then apologized, adding, 'sorry…it's just that you are identical to my…adopted Aunt…' He gestured to Kate's picture on the wall.

'May I?' Hinton said.

'Yes…come in, please.' Kate said with desperation in her voice. Hinton checked the cupboards and behind the curtains, even under the bed.

'There's nothing in here…'

A slight breeze wafted through the room, seemingly from nowhere.

'I…I met your Uncle, um Heath and I wanted to come back to see some old photos and the house my mother grew up in. Then the storm set in so I asked if I could stay the night and…I don't think Heath wanted me to stay and someone tried to get into my room."

Hinton looked around.

'The door was shut when I came up.'

Almost speechless, Katarina whispered, 'not through the door, through the window.'

Hinton wandered past the bed and towards the upstairs bay window. It was unlocked and unopened. He pulled it up. They were on the upper floor. Below, lay a stone pathway. The flower beds were a metre away from the walls and the trees even farther. It would not have been possible for anyone to climb up.

'There is no one there now,' Hinton said. 'Are you sure you didn't have too much to drink?'

'Are you serious? I know what I saw.'

Outside, the wind started to pelt down onto the trees. In the distance, an icy storm began to howl again.

'Tell you what,' Hinton said, smiling, 'Why don't you come into my room? I'll take the floor, of course, and you'll be safe until morning when I drive you home.'

Katarina looked at him hesitantly. This wasn't the cousin she was supposed to meet, though she'd heard about him often enough at Art College. Hinton was known as a real ladies' man, a guy who failed his A-levels and only got into college because of the brilliance of his drawings and a scholarship. Everyone knew his family were loaded. Hinton was a year ahead of her, so they'd seen each other in the halls but never spoken. He'd dated more than his share of girls at the college, and dumped them just as quickly.

Katarina reluctantly dragged her checked blanket off the bed and pulled on her jeans over her underwear as Hinton pretended to look away.

'C'mon, then,' Katarina said, as the storm raged outside.

Hinton couldn't believe his luck. He started walking towards his room when he realised the girl had taken a wrong turn.

'I'm going to sleep in the drawing room,' Katarina said. 'Perhaps, you could come with me?' She was still pretty scared after the earlier incident, though she'd never admit it and Hinton had all but convinced her she was dreaming.

"Mmm, give up my bed for a hard couch?" For a minute she thought he was going to refuse.

'Why not?' he said with his most affable smile. 'We can pretend we're on a camping holiday.' Although her likeness to her mother threw him momentarily, Hinton was beginning to like this new cousin.

Heath was able to sleep through practically anything but lately he'd been woken up at all hours. He'd drunk three glasses of brandy before bed and fallen into an almost trancelike state reading the stock reports and going through some important files in relation to an upcoming merger. He'd been out hunting squirrels and rabbits again. He'd swiftly scaled the outside wall so no one would notice him coming back or leaving. Disgusted, he wiped the blood from his mouth, rinsed and brushed his teeth before bed.

Though he dimly heard the sound of a woman's scream it faded just as quickly and the only change in his vast, kingly bedroom was the blurry sight of his dog's ears standing up. He crawled under his duvet. Heath slept a few hours every night. After his maturity, at twenty-one, he hadn't slept at all. But recently, he'd started falling into a deep slumber in the early hours of the morning. He reached over for his newly prescribed elixir. There were many underground markets now and different products for both vampires and hybrids that hadn't been available to Heath in his youth. After he chugged some Magenta (a new elixir), he fell back into a deep sleep. The dog whimpered and snuggled at his feet like she always did when he woke.

In the dark he heard a woman's voice, clear as glass.

"Heath… Heath…" the girl whispered to him. Then, her hand reached over and shook him awake.

Dark hair fanned across his ear, irritating him and interrupting his dream, which was more than a dream. Heath opened his eyes and saw the perfect brown eyes of another and heard Kate's pleading voice as he reached out to touch her cheek.

'Heath,' the girl said. 'Forgive me for what I did. I've been away for eighteen years. Please come back to me, I have missed you. It's so cold out here…come back to me…come back…Let me in. I've been in the in-between for so long…'

**Chapter Twelve **

_**The Cottage**_

Heath disappeared most evenings at school. Kate knew he went hunting. He'd be back for band rehearsals, he had promised her. He'd been counselled by his doctor. Kate was sure he practised being 'safe', which meant only drinking wild animals and never more than he needed to survive. Magenta, drunk in the interim, ensured he was not tempted by humans; nor would he be, unless his vampiricism developed fully. This was a roll of the dice, according to his specialist. They wouldn't know if he was a full bloodsucker until he reached eighteen. In the meantime, his diet subsisted only of protein, citrus, Magenta and plasma delivered via special order from London once a week. Blood oranges were still his favourites.

Tomorrow night, the inter-school Battle of the Bands competition was to be held as part of the Sixth Form dance. Kate and a few others, including Annabelle Hunt, were factored into the front row as audience members or "fake fans", as Kate joked. Annabelle had made such an effort to be friends with Kate that the girls were now talking and Annabelle had hesitantly been accepted into Kate's circle of popular girls.

Those girls were sitting in the front row. The band hoped they wouldn't be sitting there long. Tonight, they wanted everyone in the room up dancing. Heath would be lying if he said he didn't like the fact that a lot of girls paid him attention. He was tall with dark hair and had a "mysterious" look about him. He'd heard Annabelle giggling and whispering about him to his friends once. He still disliked the Hunts but he enjoyed female attention in all its forms and it didn't pay to display open warfare towards Annabelle's older brother, Edmund. He'd tried that in his first year at boarding school and all his privileges had been withdrawn. He hadn't seen Kate in over a week.

There was only one girl whose opinion truly mattered to him and she sat front row centre as the band played her favourite cover. Afterwards, everyone rushed off to supper but Heath and Kate had plans.

As Heath packed away his guitar, the drummer, who fancied Kate, smiled at her.

'Did you like your song, Kate? We played it especially for you…'

Heath rolled his eyes, jealously.

'I more than enjoyed it,' Kate replied but she was looking straight at Heath when she spoke.

Heath had a good singing voice. He and his band were the coolest – some said most dangerous boys at school – by far. Although Kate was proud of Heath's ability to assimilate, it had begun to annoy her to see other girls paying Heath so much attention and the last thing she wanted to do was let him know how great he was. That would create too much of an ego problem.

'I mean, it was better than okay,' she covered.

'That was your song,' Heath said.

Kate couldn't help but smile. Heath knew what she liked so well.

Heath pretended not to care and smiled at Annabelle Hunt as she gathered her things, much to Kate's annoyance. Heath made sure Kate noticed how much Annabelle Hunt flirted with him. When he became bored with Annabelle's conversation mid-sentence, Heath turned from her and walked over to demand Kate's undivided attention. Kate paused and glanced into Heath's eyes. It was obvious to strangers they had a connection that went beyond words.

When they were alone, Kate tugged at Heath's shirt and gave him the lamb sandwich she'd made in the kitchen especially for him. They were having a roast today at the girl's school and Kate knew it was Heath's favourite. He thanked her, pulled off the lamb, wolfed it down then left the bread. Heath was always starving these days. It was as if none of the food he ate satisfied him.

'C'mon, I also bought us tea…' Kate had her flask and some more lamb and chicken wrapped in a satchel. Heath grimaced, but realised weak tea kept him hydrated. Kate was always trying to look after him, even though they'd be seeing each other less now that they were both studying for half-term finals.

'You really did rock, Heath,' she whispered, looking up at him when she said it. He tried not to beam so hard. He grew happy and less prideful under her gaze but he held back from saying what he wanted to say. Heath wanted to tell Kate Spencer how much he loved her but he couldn't. If he told her, he felt sure that she would torture him, use it against him and tease him more than she usually did. It was in her nature to be both a chameleon and contrite. He wouldn't say the words until he was sure she felt the same.

They agreed to meet at the cottage to study for their exams. They enjoyed meeting up, just to read and talk like they used to when they lived in London.

The cottage was a secret meeting place that had been used for decades by the students from both schools. Built into a stone wall that marked the outside gate of the shared sporting grounds, it could only be reached by running (or walking very quickly) far out of sight across the never ending playing fields and through a kind of dugout that led to an even more lush pasture.

The dwelling had been uninhabited for at least a decade. The hut had been built in the curve. High on the hill, it lay abandoned when no one had bothered to demolish it. Most of the students knew of its existence and it was the "go to" place for midnight feasts… and lover's meetings.

By the time Kate arrived, windswept and dishevelled, Heath had caught her up.

The interior of the cottage had recently been renovated by teenagers. There was evidence of junk food and discarded games, posters tagged on walls, various blankets and duvets rolled into a cupboard, and a well-used fireplace. It was the perfect spot for a winter picnic.

'Reminds me a little bit of Hampstead,' Kate said, looking out the window.

'Scotland reminds me of nothing in the South. It's…lonelier…wilder,' he said, rubbing his mouth when Kate couldn't see. He suddenly needed his incisors filed but he wasn't going to admit it. Only Heath could feel the sharp tips of the teeth inside his mouth, reminding him of his true nature. Kate placed the food on the red checked table cloth over the low coffee table as Heath lit the fire. The boy hungrily demolished the roast chicken from Kate's satchel as the girl looked on in amusement. She spread out the board game on the floor. The pair of them began playing Scrabble in their usual competitive way until Kate, bored with the game, messed up her side with the pieces tumbling across the floor amidst a cloud of laughter.

'This is such a boring game,' she said. 'I've never understood why I can't make up words… '

She leaned over towards him. Heath felt unexpectedly nervous, but tried to act cool.

'What sort of words?'

'Oh, you know. Words they don't teach us at school…' Kate smiled wickedly then changed the subject.

'I am so bored with classes but I can't wait to see your band perform tomorrow night. I miss Hampstead. I miss the glass house where we used to go… to hunt for food…and flowers…'

Kate loved flowers. She'd even given Heath some edible ones once, when he was little, which he'd duly tried to eat. Kate rolled onto her back and stared up at the low beamed roof. Heath looked bashful. The fire flickered, creating artistic shadows of the pair on the inside of the cottage.

'I think we should play a different game…' Kate said.

Heath looked at Kate incredulously, as he turned the page of his History text. He hadn't expected this.

Kate reached over and stroked his hair. He could still feel the touch of her fingers, moments later. Overwhelmed, he took her hand in his and used all of his willpower to stop himself pulling her to him and fanging her. He didn't want to mess things up with Kate before they were ready. Heath ached for her loveliness; she was part of him more than anything or anyone ever could be or would be. When he thought of his biological family, he was dismissive of them. He didn't remember their faces. Besides, they had abandoned him when they discovered he was a bloodsucking freak; just as his friends would probably turn on him, if they knew the truth.

He dropped his pen and changed the subject. 'What…what are your plans for next year?'

Kate laughed… 'Okay, we'll play your way. Let's see, if I wasn't going to be a famous painter, do you know what I'd be?'

'I don't,' Heath replied as she plaited her hair into a braid.

'Well, I love my horse so…I'd be a vet…and save the animals…'

'You'd have to study hard for that,' Heath said sarcastically, glancing back at the words on his page.

'What, don't you think I'm capable?'

Heath knew Kate could do anything she set her mind to, starting with gaining access to the school kitchen when he couldn't, but it wouldn't pay to compliment her right now. She was far more confident than he was.

'It's not that,' he hedged. 'I'm just not sure if you have the dedication,' he replied, turning his head so she couldn't see his smile.

'Oh, you…'

He reached over and caught her hand. Kate looked up at Heath with a devotion she quickly hid with words.

'Let me get closer to the fire. It's freezing in here…' Kate said.

Heath moved closer to her, closer to the flames which were weak, but turned and crackled forming a strong light.

Heath made the first move. He put his hand on Kate's hair and she held his gaze.

'Run away with me Kate.'

Kate laughed.

'When? Where to?'

'When we've finished school, after we turn eighteen. We could go to Prague or Paris or Spain.'

'What with?'

'We'll get jobs…'

'I can't just abandon everything…my family…'

'Apart from your father, they've abandoned us…

Kate considered this for a moment.

'I know. Harrison is…not to be trusted and mother lets him sign everything. He controls all her assets after she and father separated. She even signed half of the house into his name. Mother never did like responsibility.' Kate reached out to Heath and he leant over and kissed her wrist, softly, again.

Kate opened her eyes wide, suddenly seeing the future.

'Yes, let's do it. Let's go to Spain. I'll study art and design, though I once thought Paris might be the place for that. Never mind, I'm sure they have good design schools in Spain and you can…start a band… only we've no money, not a cent. It's just a fantasy, Heath. Ten minutes in another country without a roof over our heads and we'd be fighting all the time. And…'

'What?' He wanted her to say it but she wouldn't.

'…and liking each other less…'

'I could never like you less, Kate. There is no such possibility.'

'Why?'

'Because I love you.'

Kate liked it when he spoke like this, but it worried her. 'I know,' was all she said.

What she should have said, and what she later regretted not saying was that she also loved him. It was obvious. Her journals were testament to this. Each one covering a year in their lives together, written in schoolgirl writing, with train tickets and photographs taken on her polaroid when Heath was least expecting it, pasted into the pages. She kept the most recent one hidden under her bed. Her favourite photograph was one she took of Heath in his navy blue school blazer standing on the playing fields with a bemused look on his face, just as he realised she was the culprit – the school photo journalist.

Kate glanced longingly at Heath after he'd kissed her again. She looked into his perfect eyes and felt the hard cut of his arm muscles. This boy, soon to be a man, was everything to her. He was her whole life, the male version of herself. She knew to be wary, though - family neglect had taught her this; not to let him know her entire being was his to do with as he pleased. Kate sat up and glanced down at her shoe, resolving to change the subject.

Heath loved that about her - the two versions. In this version, Kate had fresh colour rising in her cheeks. He wanted to be closer to her, to touch the vein in her wrist, her neck, to kiss her lips, but he didn't dare move.

'I think you should take your studies more seriously, never mind about me. I could never love a man, who didn't know at least as much as me,' she joked as she packed up the chess pieces.

'Well, then, there are a great many men for you to love,' Heath replied with a raised eyebrow.

'Oh, you…' Kate threw one of the Scrabble pieces his way.

Heath laughed in return, loving that he could get to her so easily.

He had applied to various universities but he wasn't sure what he wanted. Beyond Kate's love, nothing. He'd gone through the motions, telling no one before now that he'd considered applying to Oxford. He'd organised teachers he knew would give him good references and because his marks were flawless, he had a reasonable chance of being accepted. He just had to pass the interviews. He'd studied every evening when he wasn't with Kate, and when he was, he studied late into the night. He wanted to achieve more than anyone he knew. More than anything, he wanted Kate to be proud of him.

They read some more and fell asleep beside the fire. When they woke the next morning, fully clothed, wrapped together under a pile of blankets, it was morning.

'C'mon,' Kate said, dusting off bread crumbs from her skirt, 'we don't want to miss chapel or they will notice and maybe stop me going to the gig tonight. Someone could report us…'

Heath rolled his eyes. 'You mean Hunt.'

'Really, he's not that bad. I think he wants to be your friend. Actually I think Annabelle is quite keen on you. You better be careful, Heath. Those secretive, silent girls are the worst with their little schoolgirl crushes…'

'Is that what you have on me?'

'Silly, I'm not the silent, secretive type,' Kate said.

It wasn't the answer Heath wanted to hear.

'Well, you never had to be.'

Heath turned with the coat and handed Kate her scarf.

'How can you joke like that Kate?'

'What? I'm just kidding.'

'How could you think there is anyone for me apart from you?'

'I…I think you like me too much. It will distract you from getting good marks in your finals.'

'Am I hearing things? Listen to yourself Kate. I don't "like" you too much. There is no "like" here.

Kate looked away, aware of the depth of her feelings for the handsome boy that stood opposite her. Over the past year, he'd grown a head taller than her. She had to look up in the morning half-light to meet his eyes. Again, she looked away.

'Look at me Kate.'

'I know most girls think you're hot.'

'Oh, so you're saying you don't?'

'Those girls don't know you, like I know you,' Kate said slowly. Before Kate was forced to answer, the door blew open as one of the younger students arrived, out of breath. 'Come quick,' he said, '… they're taking the register. They know someone broke into the kitchen last night and stole some chickens and the headmaster is going ballistic.'

Kate giggled while Heath grabbed their coats as they prepared to run. It would be wiser to attend roll call, or else it would be completely obvious they'd been out all night; and then Mr Spencer would be informed, or worse.

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**Linus**_

Katarina woke in the living room but she did not feel refreshed. The girl stepped quietly past her sleeping cousin and headed upstairs to retrieve her shoes. Much to her surprise, a shard of sunlight was shining through the floor length window of the room. The storm had subsided, leaving a wreck of mud and branches across the grounds of the estate. The girl pulled on her jumper and brushed her hair. The ancient brush looked like it had been passed down through many generations of the Spencer family. Katarina discovered some toothpaste in an old-fashioned bathroom. Upon scrutiny of her image in the mirror, she changed her mind and decided to take a shower. Katarina leaned in closely to the mirror, noticing the dark circles under her brown eyes, betraying her lack of sleep.

'Hello, how are you?'

The voice made her jump.

'You might have knocked.'

'Oh, no need to cover up. I've seen it all before,' Linus said breezily. 'I work in a theatre – stage management. You look as if you've seen a ghost.'

'Is that meant to be a joke?'

'Oh, you noticed it too…'

'What?'

'Last night, curtains moving, lights flickering, noises in the dark…' He made a strange horror movie noise and laughed.

'There was a woman…a stranger trying to get into my room…'

'Oh people have been saying stuff like that for years…'

'You're not going to tell me…'

'Oh, I'm here to tell you, it's all true. I'd never bring my friends home. Place is seriously haunted…'

Katarina didn't know if he was joking or not, nor did she know what to say in response to Linus' quick wit and even quicker turn of phrase. She decided she had no choice but to run with it. She smiled - at least it felt safer with another human being in the room.

'But enough of the gloom and doom, I'm interning in a theatre on the West End. I'll get you a ticket to come and see the latest show if you like. It's pretty good. I also organise dance parties on the weekends. Father does not approve, as you can imagine. What about you?'

'I like music and painting. I go to Art College and take photographs.'

'Cool.'

Linus held out his hand to Katarina, and she shook it.

A boy with what could only be described as wild hair and the appearance of an 80's punk, smiled back at her in the mirror. He messed his hair with his hands.

'So, do you like my new look?' Linus asked.

'It's…interesting but I never saw your old one.' Katarina replied.

'You must be Kat, Heath's niece, the one we've never met. I have the illustrious honour of being Heath's son. How is the old man?'

'Well, he's not very…old.'

'No, I know. But I'm guessing he's still pretty grumpy.' He pulled a face. 'I always try to get out of the house early. Father hates the fact that I go off to Brighton with my mates every weekend and can't stand the thought of working in his stuffy financial firm. But he was so young when he had me. Really, his idea of becoming a parent at this point in my life is a bit of a joke… Mind?' Linus took Kat's tube of toothpaste.

'I brought my own toothbrush,' Linus said reassuringly.

Katarina laughed.

'Oh, I'm going to write down my web page. We should stay in touch. Heath is sure to lose it at some point this morning, or he might already be out with the horses. In any case, you're going to want to run away from this house and never return…just like all the women in this family do.'

'Surely, they didn't all run away. Not all of them.'

'Yes, all of them,' the boy said regretfully.

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.'

Linus quickly changed the subject.

'Get dressed. We're meeting Hinton for breakfast; he likes to sketch in the cafe. Sometimes I think he's aiming to draw every nook and cranny in Hampstead. He and I don't really get on. So, it'll be quite funny to turn up at his favourite breakfast hangout with you in tow. He takes all his notes and paper to draw people there. He's obsessed with capturing their images. I'm sure I can't see any point in that…' Linus said breezily.

Linus talked on and it was hard not to like him, with his easy way and humorous take on the world.

Greta called upstairs, 'and what would you both like for breakfast?'

'Nothing darling,' Linus said theatrically. 'I'm taking my cousin out. You're welcome to join us,' he added.

'No Linus, I only popped in to drop off the groceries,' Greta said warily.

'Bring you back one of those lovely frosted buns from the French bakery for morning tea, then, eh?' Linus said, dragging Katarina down the stairs with him.

'Oh, have you said goodbye to your father?'

'Goodbye? We haven't said good morning. He's out with the horses. Tell him I'll see him tonight.'

Greta rolled her eyes.

'And with a bit of luck,' Linus said under his breath, 'he'll be asleep by nine pm.'

Katarina laughed.

'He was…quite the gentleman around me.'

'Oh, that's just because you don't know him, yet.'

'I get the feeling our families never wanted us to meet,' Katarina said as they walked down the sunny driveway, slippery from last night's hail storm.

'Here, take these.'

Linus handed Katarina a pair of gumboots. They both carried their shoes in their hands.

'The calm after the storm. C'mon, I know a shortcut,' Linus said enthusiastically.

'Near my house?'

'Something like that,' the boy said as they walked through the sunken garden, across the heath, towards The Grange and past the private, hidden glass conservatory that was tucked behind the Summer House.

'My father used to come here… with your mother, when they were children.'

'I know,' Katarina said. 'I'm reading her journal. I found it under the bed last night.'

Linus looked shocked. 'Oh, that must be another one,' he said, reaching for the diary.

'Not until I've read this one,' Katarina replied. 'I'm only on page eighteen…but sometimes I think this is the place she was happiest.'

Her cousin shrugged. 'Just up ahead, past the conservatory on our left, past the fancy house on the corner, is our café.'

Linus took Katarina's arm and she suddenly felt adopted by her cousin, like a new best friend.

Linus pulled a face as they removed their muddy boots at the door of the café and replaced them with their own shoes. 'There he is, sitting all sullen in the corner table. And in about ten seconds, Hinton will… look up.' As if on cue, that's what happened. Linus and Katarina laughed. Hinton didn't smile. He scowled and hastily gathered his sketches.

Hinton was just as unwelcoming and monosyllabic when they sat at the table with him. He'd already eaten a plate of bacon which Katarina thought was really unhealthy. Katarina ordered tea and poached eggs with toast and Linus ordered muesli with strawberries and yoghurt. A jug of blood orange juice was placed on the table and Hinton guzzled two glasses. He then proceeded to wolf down a second breakfast of eggs (he left the toast on the side) as he sketched the interior of the café, practically ignoring Linus and Katarina, who couldn't get over the difference in his personality from the previous night.

As he looked up briefly from his sketches, Hinton barely nodded. Nevertheless, Katarina, was in her element, surrounded by new family. Her two cousins seemed to be far more interested in themselves and their plans that her, but Katarina didn't mind. Hinton had an exhibition to prepare and Linus started chatting about the play he was stage managing. When the sun shone through the window, Hinton shifted from the direct light and began to get restless as he shuffled his papers. Katarina was keen to get back to her mother's diary, but was wary of appearing (unlike her cousins) rude. Besides, it felt nice to be amongst what were for all intents and purposes, her family.

As they finished their breakfasts and she read the paper, Katarina noticed Hinton peering at the words on her page. She looked up and sounded out the word, incandescent. Hinton looked away.

'Do you wear glasses, Hinton?'

'No,' Hinton replied taking offence through a mouthful of bacon. He chugged down the rest of his orange juice then began gulping his coffee. His hunger seemed to have no end.

'Oh, don't mind him Katarina. Hinton always wolfs down his food, don't you Hinton?' Linus said with a mocking smile.

Hinton raised an eyebrow, apparently used to his cousin's humour. Meanwhile it was obvious Hinton had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or couch as was the case the previous night. Katarina tried to make small talk but Hinton stopped drawing, folded his sketches and announced quietly that he had to go to college to work on his portfolio.

Katarina wanted to say, 'I'll come with you,' because she had planned to do the same, but she felt she didn't really know him well enough (except by reputation). From the way he was behaving it appeared he would not want her to accompany him. Hinton got up so quickly, he even left the scarf he was wearing, (her scarf, strangely enough), by her seat. He didn't want to give her an excuse to return to Hareton Hall.

After he left, Linus stirred his coffee as he spoke. "Oh, never mind him, Katarina. He's always more sociable in the evenings. Take no notice. I'm glad we met. Besides, it's obvious he likes you. I would too if we weren't related…' Linus smiled dramatically.

'Well, I suppose I should also be going…'

"Nonsense, you're coming with me to Portobello Road to buy new outfits before I go to my rehearsal. Then we're off to Camden town tomorrow and tomorrow night, in honour of having found you again, we're going to cook a feast and have some friends over for dinner. I have it on good authority that father will be out.'

Linus opened up the newspaper and sure enough, inside the lift out, there was a picture of Heath, in a dinner suit standing with his most recent girlfriend. She was also a company director and the daughter of a media mogul. Heath was announcing a charity ball that would be sponsored by the family company, _Heath & Sons,_ that evening.

'Mmm… sons,' Linus mused, 'how optimistic. I think that means me… and Hinton, though I don't think we were quite what father was expecting.'

Linus leaned in close 'You know Hinton can barely read, don't you? That's probably why he left suddenly.'

Katarina looked surprised. 'What? I thought there might be something wrong with his eyesight…'

'Oh, he sees clear as day; he can practically see in the dark. It's just that father was… well, he raised him to ride and take care of the animals. He was home schooled by Greta when we realised everyone was just going to make fun of him at regular school. It was terrible. Keep this to yourself. Father hates it when I talk about the family publicly but there's always been a lot of tension between us,' Linus stated matter-of-factly. 'I mean, he's not exactly thrilled with my choice of…career but at least I'm literate.'

Linus went beyond the insinuation that Hinton was not. 'Oh, he's clever. It's just that he has dyslexia and never really had it diagnosed properly and now… he's too embarrassed to ask for lessons.'

'Well, I was good at English at school. Maybe I could help him. He seems so clever. It's hard to believe he can't read…' Katarina said.

'Maybe. Hinton's unsociable. I've tried and he won't talk to me. We just don't really like each other, I suppose. I mean, we're not blood relations but we were raised together. Sometimes it's just the way things are…'

Katarina resolved in some way to help her adopted cousin as she sipped her tea, constantly entertained by quips from Linus.

When the waiter came and Linus, ever the gentleman, reached for the bill, Katarina couldn't resist.

'By the way, last night, I saw something… well, someone. It was a person, I'm sure of it. A woman tried to get into the room as I slept. I didn't see her face clearly in the dark but…'

'Is that why you screamed?'

'Yes… '

'Perhaps it was a nightmare. Being too much in father's company will do that to a person.' Linus replied, always the joker.

'No… I mean… a woman… I didn't see her face. I saw her hand reach through the window. It was so real, I could almost touch her fingers…'

Linus shivered. He let the silence hang between them for a moment until he spoke…

'It's her again.'

'Who?'

'C'mon, we'll talk outside.'

Linus offered to pay the bill and they walked out towards the tube station on Hampstead High Street.

'I'm not sure it's really my place to say and I'm not exactly sure what you saw but…' Linus glanced over at his cousin with a serious expression on his face…

'Go on…'

'Well, Father should have warned you… but it looks like it's up to me, as usual. Hareton Hall is a freak show.'

Katarina just looked at her cousin; she didn't know what to say. Of course, she hadn't believed in haunted houses before. But then, she had never confronted the possibility of their existence until last night. She suspected some more answers might be locked inside the cover of the diary she now kept. They changed trains. The underground was semi-empty this morning. When the tube stopped at Notting Hill, they walked to Linus' car. He'd parked it outside the station when he couldn't drive home the previous night.

'Jump in, we'll go to the markets then I'll drop you home. Oh, I almost forgot, there's an old school yearbook with empty pages at the back that your mother wrote in extensively. I'd been putting my stuff in storage, preparing to move into a flat in Bayswater but I took this by mistake from the wardrobe. I was going to put it back but I think you might like it. It's in the back seat. I found it a while ago and kept it, so it wouldn't be amongst the things you already have. You could add it to your… investigation. I was never terribly interested, to be honest, so I didn't bother reading it. I just flicked through the photos. Oh, but I wouldn't tell father. He's very secretive about that part of his life, the part he spent with… your mother.'

He reached in and handed Katarina the package.

Katarina took the album possessively and opened a page that contained letters stuck into opened envelopes. They were undated and the post stamp was unclear. Kate's childish handwriting but sophisticated language described a pre-holiday dance where Heath's band was due to perform. _I'm so excited for The Battle of the Bands, _was a sentence that stood out. Her mother had even stuck a small piece of the pink voile from her dress on the page as a keepsake. Katarina ran her fingers over the material. After the first ten pages, which were obviously written by her mother, there was another letter signed by Heath.

'Does your father know we have this?'

'I doubt it,' Linus said. 'All of this was so long ago. Most of it is undated but they must have been written over twenty years ago - way back in the nineties. Anyway, father has no idea what is in every nook and cranny of the house. Probably forgot he ever wrote this stuff. It's bizarre to read. Your mother must've stuck the letters in there. Hard to believe people actually _wrote_ letters back then…' Her cousin trailed off.

Katarina, finding them impossible to resist, stuffed the notes in her bag.

As Linus turned on the ignition, Katarina suddenly wished she was alone at The Grange to ponder her mother's words in detail.

**Chapter Fourteen **

_**Letters **_

_From Kate to Heath _

_Dearest Heath_

_It's the night after the dance and I've been told to pack and be ready to leave in an hour. No one will tell me why I'm wanted at The Hall. It may be something to do with Harrison. No one can find you. I think you must be out hunting. Father insists I am to return home on the next train. My bags are packed and I'm writing this to you in case you don't arrive in time to catch the train with me. I want you to know what I have never told you enough - how much I love you. I am leaving this under your door to read when you return. _

_I keep thinking of the events that led to me being separated from you and wanted to clear up the misunderstanding that occurred… I'm going back to the beginning…_

_Annabelle stopped by (such a swat) on her way from the school library, to show me her dress. Don't ask me how we've become friends but I suppose that's what you could call us, until tonight. Anyway, I'd been trying to get her to wear contacts for ages, and finally she'd agreed. It was like a new person greeted me at the door._

'_Kate, you look beautiful,' she said. I felt it was my turn to repay her compliment._

_We sat together at my dresser, me in my pink satin slip, bought especially to go with my dress for the occasion (I can't believe I'm writing this down!) to impress you later as we planned! Annabelle had draped my dressing gown over her clothes and was trying on my slippers. We painted our nails to match our dresses. Afterwards, I did Annabelle's makeup. I was quite thrilled to have made Belle my personal project as I felt her transformation on the surface would lead to a more profound transformation of her personality._

_I was so excited to see your band play in front of a real audience for the first time. I knew you'd rock the place out; you're so hot and talented, how could you be anything but amazing? And you were amazing, Heath. Don't ever let anyone make you feel different, just because you are. _

_When Annabelle emerged from my bathroom transformed in a cream and silver tasselled dress, I was surprised. Then I complimented my new friend._

'_Wow,' I said, 'you look completely amazing!'_

'_Do you think so? Do you think anyone will notice?'_

_By "anyone" I was pretty sure she meant you and I ignored the insinuation. _

'_Of course, you look beautiful Annabelle,' I said, and meant it._

_Annabelle smiled. She said she knew her pale, icy prettiness wouldn't last. 'I have a slim figure but I know I lack the… specialness that would make a boy like Heath, for example, sit up and take notice.'_

_I knew she wanted me to disagree, but I could never just let her think you were hers for the taking. Instead, I told her any guy would be lucky to have her. And I believed it, (unless that guy was you, of course). Annabelle was, or rather is, perfect girlfriend material, more perfect than me. She's perfectly boring, perfectly spoken and perfectly nice. How could you not like her Heath? Tell me what I saw never happened! Do you remember how much we hated the Hunts as children? How we used to laugh at them?_

_Of course, Edmund has always disliked you because you were braver than him – or so I thought. He called you "rough" but I know Annabelle secretly had a crush on you from the time we all met up at Hareton Hall during summer holidays and I put on a fashion show. Remember? _

_The fashion show began and ended with me showing off my new sports uniform. All of our school friends came and it was my idea to donate the door money to charity! Annabelle was invited to model also, but I went first. Edmund and Annabelle took their seats, open mouthed, on the floor. I'd set up the old ballroom like a theatre and forced you to grudgingly hold the curtains and shine the spotlight. You studied our neighbouring friends without hiding your irritation. You still hadn't forgiven their father for accusing you of harming their dog when we were small, and I don't blame you. You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but inside The Hall that day but this was a chance to "let bygones be bygones," as Greta once said._

'_May I take your coat, Annabelle?' I remember Greta asking. _

'_Yes, thank you very much,' the girl with milk skin answered. You must have found her vaguely pretty, I'm sure, even though you barely showed her any attention when she modelled and clapped loudly when I did. If both she and her brother hadn't irritated us so much with their bland, insipid privilege, perhaps we would all have been friends, earlier. But we always preferred being outside when we were children, didn't we? Playing on Hampstead Heath in the wind, remember?_

_Anyway, earlier tonight Annabelle continued to blabber on as we got ready. _

'_I honestly think Heath is the most handsome boy I've ever met.'_

_I couldn't disagree. I sometimes wonder if Annabelle's plan to befriend me had something to do with wanting to be near you. She stood up and hovered at the entrance to my room when she was nearly ready as if she wanted to share more unasked for information. _

_I turned around from my dressing table._

'_You look like… a princess,' she gasped. It was her turn to flatter me. Annabelle was still gawping at my darkly made up eyes, long gloves, low-cut dress and glitter eye shadow. 'Although I'm not sure the school…' _

'_Oh, I couldn't care less if I get a stupid demerit for wearing a revealing outfit…' I said. 'Don't look so shocked, Annabelle. Come over here and help me tease my hair. It is a 1960's theme after all!'_

'_You look…amazing,' she said as I applied my pale, pink lipstick. _

_It was eight in the evening and the Battle of the Bands Dance had been going for at least half an hour when we arrived. We stood at the top of the stairs surveying the scene we helped create, glitter ball and all. It was spectacular. I knew you were on last and your band was the only one I wanted to cheer for Heath. I thought the school hall, lit up with disco lights, looked amazing, didn't you? I took Annabelle's cream gloved hand in my pink gloved one as we casually walked down the staircase towards the cloak room and saw the whole school lit up with a banner that read Sixth Form Dance._

_When your band played, you guys were awesome. We clapped wildly so you would hear us but you looked straight past me and smiled at Annabelle! She smiled back! I happen to know you'd barely said more than two words to her in all your life, yet she was convinced you were in love with her after that. How could this be so, Heath? I am sorry for doubting you but as her obsession seemed to know no limits. I couldn't help but wonder if you had ever done anything at all to encourage her. _

_The lights were lowered as the heating and the energy in the room warmed and I noticed you pour something from a flask into your water bottle. I think, maybe, you had forgotten your Magenta. You looked hungry. _

_The band started playing again and you were amazing as I always knew you would be. Annabelle's face lit up and I would have started laughing if it wasn't so annoying. I suppose I just decided to fight fire with fire. _

_Soon I was surrounded by a group of boys and some of them started dancing and thrashing to the music and I was caught up in the throng of activity. Food was passed around, teachers stood back and hovered, talking amongst themselves, finally letting everyone dance without bothering to interrupt. _

_The set stopped and afterwards, I saw you attempt to move towards me as Annabelle headed in the opposite direction. You didn't push past her as I expected you to and I refused to show anyone I'd noticed. You looked embarrassed when she clutched your arm and told you how great you were but perhaps you had matured too much to be openly rude as you once might have been. I could barely hear your voices above the dance music but the conversation went something like this: _

'_Hi. The band was amazing,' Annabelle said. _

_You were flattered. I could tell by the careful way you smiled and said, 'Thanks Annabelle.' _

'_It reminds me of the music we played when Kate and I used to make up dances and modelling shows… remember when we lived next door to each other.'_

_How interesting, I thought, when Annabelle knew the dances and fashion shows were entirely directed by me._

'_Of course,' you said, 'how could I forget? You were always so creative,' I could not believe what I was hearing. I also couldn't believe any girl could be quite so…obvious or that you could flatter her so easily. You started packing your guitar in its case and you didn't even give me a second glance. _

_I admit I was occupied with a group of friends by this point but that was because I was so annoyed that you had all but ignored me. How could you, Heath? Finally, you glanced over at me but I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of realising that I'd noticed. I realise now, you were mad at me for not telling you I loved you in return in the cottage the day before. But did you have to pay me back by flirting with Annabelle? It worked. _

_In fact, I barely gave a second to look in your direction. The look on your face said it all. I admit, I was wondering if you were having second thoughts about us. It is true that you are from another world but that is not why I love you, I know that. I know that you would love me even if we'd been brought up together on the street. Games are for other people, Heath, not us. _

_You only have to be yourself with me and I love you completely, for that alone. You once told me you could do anything you wanted, be anyone you wanted and so could I. I am so much like you; I am you. You left too early from the dance, if you heard my reply to Edmund's question but not my true answer. Please come back to me. Save me from whatever fate has in store for me without you. If you are reading this, I am on the train alone and you did not return in time to come with me. I shall wait for you at Hareton Hall…almost as if, although separate, we are one. _

_I love you more than words can ever say._

_Yours forever,_

_Kate _

_The second letter was in Heath's handwriting, dated that night:_

_Dearest Kate_

_Love and loyalty forever, without one the other doesn't exist! How could you imagine otherwise? I have not stopped thinking about you since we parted tonight and I'm writing this now, to give to you in the morning since the house mistress said you could not see me tonight. I walked over to the girls' school to find you but the teachers wouldn't tell me where you had gone. Someone said you had been taken back to London and that because no one could locate me, I am to leave on the morning train. They won't tell me why either, just that I am wanted at home. _

_I feel the need to set things straight between us, since this is our first quarrel and I could not go to sleep angry – or go to sleep at all knowing you are on your way to Hareton Hall without me. I shall give this to you when I see you since it will be easier than spoken words. _

_I hope father is okay. You know I love him as if he were my own, and I have a strange feeling something is up from the way the school counsellor has been speaking to me with added empathy. No one will tell me anything. _

_I hope you at least decide to open this because I know you were angry with me last night. In light of what has happened, our quarrel seems pointless, so please, when you receive this, don't just throw it out the window. You know I never write letters, never, but I am making the exception for you, because you are special Kate and always will be, because I love you forever and you know I always will._

_I'm going to start at the beginning and I'm warning you, this letter is going to be more than a few pages long…_

_Okay, it's true that I was deeply embarrassed by Annabelle being "all over me" as you put it. In my defence, it was past eight and I hadn't been able to get to my supplies and I felt strangely weakened, my desire for blood stronger than ever. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but it is the truth. I won't go on about it but I was feeling less than my best which may have added to the perception that I was ignoring you. Remember Kate, it is hard to be the one saying "I love you," and not hearing those words in return. _

_As for the Band Battle, I think we were attracting a few fans (this bit is supposed to make you laugh!) but I admit Annabelle was very obvious tonight. Even our drummer noticed her behaviour. She credited you with her makeover! Perhaps you should have given her a make-under - just kidding. Yes, I smiled back at her as I glanced around the room, waiting for YOU who seemed to be ignoring me! We had agreed to meet outside after the set had finished, to continue the party…elsewhere. But the scout from London was here and the band wanted me to put in an appearance. After he left, Mr Jones was on the war path trying to round up the boys who spiked the punch …guess who? Annabelle was a decoy, someone to hide behind. I am ashamed to say that is why I went outside with her and this is what happened next…_

_Annabelle sipped her drink and tried to make conversation, thrilling lines such as:_

'_Do you have plans, Heath, for when school ends?'_

_I replied, 'yes,' wondering how long before it would be safe to go inside._

'_I don't… not really. Father wants me to apply for university. I thought I might like to go to Art College in London instead.'_

_I nodded, still waiting for you, feigning interest in her vapid conversation. I glanced through the glass doors and saw you and the moronic Edmund Hunt, dancing. Great choice if you wanted to make me jealous Kate, it worked._

_Annabelle looked up and said, 'My brother seems to have taken a shine to…your sister.'_

_I gulped my drink as one of the band made a secretive gesture in his direction indicating more alcohol would be forthcoming. _

'_She's… not my sister,' I said quickly (because you aren't!)_

'_No… I'm sorry, of course not, but you were raised together…' Annabelle added, more annoyingly than ever. _

'_Only until we came here…almost six years ago now,' I replied, setting the record straight. _

_Annabelle then changed the subject._

'_I thought I'd hate it here but sometimes I prefer the school to home. I like having friends of my own.'_

_(I'm not sure what you said to her that afternoon, Kate, but she was under the impression you were her new best friend!)_

_I admit, it's true, this next part makes me seem inconsiderate but I was bored by her conversation and looked around the room. I became even more annoyed by your flirty behaviour with rich boy Edmund. Annabelle was all…wobbly by then. I think she'd been drinking too much punch even though it was never designed for her! She kept putting her hand on my shoulder to steady herself and at one point I returned the gesture to hold her up!_

_I looked across the room and there you were, beautiful in your pink dress, glaring at me. You turned your head (to listen to Edmund's scintillating conversation, no doubt). _

_Annabelle said, 'Oh look, Kate's dress fans out in waves across the floor, in waves at her feet like the ocean…'_

_And at that moment, that's exactly where I wanted to be with you. As far away from that school and our families and all the people who ever knew us, because I only want you, Kate, forever. _

_Then, the music reached a fever pitch and Annabelle was jumping up and down and you were in the middle of the group and I was watching you and then you…fell down._

'_Oh,' Annabelle said, suddenly still, 'I hope Kate's okay.'_

_I moved towards you but Edmund Hunt got there first. _

_Annabelle looked at me all gaga by then. It's true that I glanced at her, but more like she was a consolation prize! This was just as you turned heads paying Edmund your undivided attention! (One of my teammates once walked in on the pair of them – brother and sister – trying to teach each other to dance in the student common room!) Honestly, Kate, we should never let either of them get between us. They are not worth it! (Jealous? Yes, at least I admit it!) I turned away as Edmund was helping you up. _

'_Do you want to go outside?' Annabelle asked me, unexpectedly. _

_What was I supposed to say? I suppose I could have declined and stormed off like a girl but I wanted to make you pay. I'm sorry, I know that love is patient and kind; I know that is what we are taught but you and I are different. Words are not enough. I just want to be with you…impatiently, all the time. And sometimes I want to suck the vein in your wrist but I hold back because I'm trying to be better than that for you Kate, I'm trying not to have to be what I was born to be. You make me try to be a better man. Tonight I was less than my best, I know…_

_The balcony was divided into sections for groups to talk and socialize. _

_I made sure rich boy saw me as you told Edmund you were okay while he helped you outside. I wanted to make you jealous so I put my arm around Annabelle then released her moments later. _

'_Wait here,' I told Annabelle, 'I'm going to get you some water. I'll be back in a moment.' That's when I heard you. Rich boy spoke first._

'_Are you sure you're okay?'_

'_Ah, I think it might be some kind of… minor sprain,' you said. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to… ?'_

'_No, I like the fresh air.'_

_I could hear your words clearly Kate as I went to get Annabelle's drink. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to your room? Or would you like me to get…your friend, the one you're always hanging out with,' Edmund said jealously I might add. _

'_That is not necessary, I do some things by myself you know… and we are not always together.' I could hear those words Kate! You spoke them!_

'_Well, certainly, people don't see you together but I've heard…' he went on._

'_Perhaps you listen to too much student gossip…' you sounded mortified that people might guess we were together!_

'_No…not at all,' Edmund said, 'I just thought you were with…'_

_I was standing outside the balcony tent by then, hidden from view, but once I heard the topic of conversation I couldn't resist pausing. Trust is fragile Kate! You need to explain the rest to me because I never stop loving you no matter what you do…you added these words: _

'_There is nothing to think… I'm my own person. I'm not with…anyone. I don't have a boyfriend…'_

_I admit I freaked out standing there in the shadows like a stranger to your life. Hadn't we just spent the morning together? Hadn't we been closer to each other than anyone else in this life? I wanted to teach you a lesson for being disloyal, so I stormed off through the crowd._

_By now you must know, Annabelle means nothing to me, nothing. YOU ARE MY LIFE KATE SPENCER._

_Later_

_Then I woke up this morning to hear your father had died suddenly. I am on the morning train to London, drinking my supply. Honestly, I feel completely lost and only want to see your face again. Our petty argument seems just that. He was the only father I ever knew, too, Kate. I never met a kinder more sincere man in my life. I'm so sorry, Kate. _

_I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER. _

_I will be at Hareton Hall as soon as possible _

_Hxxxxxxxxxxxx. (and here the page was smothered in at least a dozen kisses and hugs and what looked like the smudge of tears…) _

I read over the childish letters in the dark. It seemed plausible that Kate and Heath were separated as part of a plan Harrison was forming.

Soon after, Kate was sent to Finishing School in Switzerland, where she stayed for three months until her eighteenth birthday. Both sets of school fees were cancelled and Heath was thrown out of the house, onto the street, his inheritance "absorbed" in the family trust and expenditure – justified by Harrison's appointment as the executor of the family estate. Neither of the younger Spencers appears to have completed secondary school in Scotland. A final letter from Kate (written in Switzerland) filled me in on some of the missing details.

_Dear Heath _

_By now you will know where I am and why and I wait patiently to join you. _

_How typical of Harrison to have tricked the school into separating us, and how alone and terrible I feel without you now. I wait for you and please know everything that happened at the dance is ancient history; it all means nothing in light of recent events. I still cannot believe father is gone. _

_Greta is taking this with her and has promised to give it only to you. Harrison, as you know, confined me to my room before I was packed off to Switzerland. He locked the door and barred the window after he dragged me from your path and would not let me leave this room. He says my place is with my family and not with "a freak". But you are my family Heath, and if that makes us freaks together, so be it. We will meet as planned and Harrison will never separate us again. _

_You won't believe what he has done! His new girlfriend, Frances (we call her Franny and so far she is a good natured sort of person, trying to bring me food and drink when Harrison is not about) is soon to be his wife! The little boy (a mere toddler) is her brother. His name is Hinton. They allowed him into my room to give me company before I was packed off to Finishing School. How kind of them. He too is a good natured little boy, with a face like a cherub. He likes to play with his toys and offers them to me to "make me better". I hate to imagine how Harrison's influence could change him since he is such a sweet child. I have tried to warn Frances but she is so "in love" she refuses to listen, and so far, Harrison has only presented his nicer side. He insists I am in my room for my own good and I barely have the energy to resist any more. With you gone, I have nowhere to turn. I have enclosed half the money we saved together in my piggy bank as children. I'd hidden it and you will need it more than me. Please don't send it back! _

_This will be shorter than the last letter. I just want to clear up what happened at the stupid Battle of the Bands and we can talk when I finally see you. Greta has promised to send you the details and I know you will contact her; I just know it. _

_Our school days seem pretty aimless in light of what has happened. Father died in my arms just before you arrived home. It was horrible, Heath. I miss him so much. I think he was our only ally. _

_Back to our stupid misunderstanding; I know my thoughtless behaviour hurt you more than any beating or withdrawal of privileges we ever received from Harrison, just as yours did me; so not worth it. I love you, too, more than anything or anyone else. You should know, before we make plans, that this is what happened after you left the ball room that night. _

_I told Edmund that I couldn't ever go out with him. He asked me if I was "attached" to anyone (which I found old fashioned and funny although I hardly imagine myself laughing ever again right now.)_

'_I can't go out with you, Edmund,' I said._

'_But, you just told me you are not attached to anyone,' he replied._

_**That's because I'm… more than attached**__. Those were my exact words, but you didn't stay in the room long enough to hear them. _

_I added, 'It is true that you don't see Heath and I together… in public or at school much but… we are more__** than attached**__. We are together in secret. We plan to move to London next year but of course my older brother would never approve so we just keep it to ourselves. It is true we are young but we are like, __**the same person. **__I could never imagine being without Heath.' And blah blah blah I went on, embarrassed to be relaying those words now, but they are TRUE. _

'_I see,' Edmund replied. Pale and dorky though he is; I think he meant us both well. 'I knew you were close… Anyway, I'm going up to Cambridge next year….' And after I had assured him there was no hope we would ever be more than friends, Edmund looked away, hurt. So please don't hate him for liking me because I think he is actually a good person. He seemed to understand and asked if we could remain friends. I didn't know what else to say so I said "yes", but truly, it all meant nothing. I tried to get up but the pain in my ankle made me hesitate. I looked for you but you were NOWHERE. That night I dreamt that we were parted and I begged you to come back to me. _

_Tell me this isn't true! _

_COME BACK TO ME NOW HEATH. I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER AND EVER._

_Love Kate (sealed with a thousand kisses)_

**Chapter Fifteen**

_**Shadows **_

And here I sat, the daughter of such a woman. I was quite surprised, I admit, at the evident depth of affection between her and Heath and quite annoyed at how meanly Heath had spoken of my loyal, kind and loving father. It was hard to get over the disloyalty in my mother's letters, but I tried to justify my reading of them in the name of "research".

Greta walked into the kitchen light and she relayed to me the story of Kate and Heath's parting. As we sipped tea and I waited for my cousin Hinton to emerge so we could go and work at the studio like we planned.

This is what Greta told me:

'When Heath arrived home he was ignored by Harrison who had brought his new girlfriend with him. Heath was just counting down the days until he and Kate could go back to school. Harrison had other plans. He'd withdrawn the fees for both children for their final semester of school. They had no say in the matter.

Heath couldn't have cared less about boarding without Kate close by and Kate had never been academic. When we arrived back at The Hall, Heath discovered Kate in a heap, on the couch, crying over her father's old photographs. When I went in to take them some tea, they were huddled together so close; I thought no one would ever tear them apart. Heath was also distraught. Your grandfather had been the only adult (apart from me) to love him and take care of him.

When the news had arrived, the worst, Kate and Heath were left alone. Heath hugged Kate in the child's playroom while she wept and he unsuccessfully tried to hold back tears for the only man who had ever been a parent to him.

After, we all sat in the old playroom as the news from a television blared on in the background giving us all a good excuse not to talk. Repeat images of political unrest in other parts of the world were on replay in a documentary. It was an irony not lost on any of us, for it was obvious, our world within Hareton Hall was crumbling.

I agreed to stay on to try to protect the youngster Hinton and Harrison was seemingly civil to Kate throughout that week. He had more important plans to occupy his mind. We were stunned to discover he intended to install his new girlfriend Frances, as his wife, (they married at a registry office the following Saturday).

At first, Franny was warm towards Kate and barely civil to Heath, (taking her cue from Harrison). Once she'd married Harrison, she lost interest in everyone else in the house, including her younger brother, and took to going on long walks across the heath. Hareton Hall has that strange effect on people or maybe it was the revelation that her new husband wasn't all he seemed. Sometimes I'd hear him yelling at her in the night and would place my hands over young Hinton's ears. I thought it a blessing that Kate was to be sent away but it was mean of Harrison to cancel their fees for the final term.

Kate's older brother had made plans to conquer and divide the two younger "shareholders" as he thought of them. He'd never really been able to control Kate. Although there had been a vast inheritance left to both the younger Spencers, Harrison made sure that Heath's share was written off to various expenses. Heath and Kate were still minors, after all. The shares that remained were left to be invested in the family trust and managed by Harrison on behalf of the two teenagers.

Harrison insisted that Heath make his room in the basement and groom the horses every morning. Heath did so, happily in fact, preferring to be outside rather than anywhere near Harrison. I asked when Heath would be enrolled back in school but Harrison seemed to think that was nothing to be concerned about. I feared the worst; that he intended to throw Heath on the street the moment he turned eighteen the following week.

Both Heath and Kate were not unaware of the plot against them as they took the horses to be exercised on the heath that last cold, autumn day when Heath was still in my care. Kate was in a near dreamlike state with her grief having marked a serious return to study as nearly pointless. 'After all, how many artists need an academic education, Greta?' she asked me. Really, Kate was delusional.

Instinctively, Heath, who had never trusted Harrison, knew there would be changes at Hareton Hall and he suspected his plans for university would be delayed in some way without access to the necessary funds. He needed money to hire a lawyer and by the time he had that he knew the funds would be siphoned off. He just hung on, taking his medication as scheduled, accessing his secret supplies to normalize his blood, and all the time wanting to rip Harrison to shreds. He hung on for Kate, waiting for her to turn eighteen so they could run away and never be under the control of Harrison again. If they ran off too soon, Harrison would inform the authorities that he suspected Heath was a vampire. Though not illegal, it would officially be a mark against him for life. There was so much discrimination. For example, vampires had to get permission to hold certain jobs and human-vampire marriage was discouraged.

Meanwhile, Harrison had cancelled the cheques Heath had sent to apply for university and it was too late for him to enrol to finish the school term at the local comprehensive. A scholarship was out of the question until the following year. Heath turned eighteen in a matter of days and Harrison would no longer be his court appointed guardian. Kate and Heath tried not to think about the family tensions as they rode together that day.

Kate had started eating again, having lost her appetite for a week and I had wisely packed the picnic basket with a lunch of their favourite things. Kate had put in a bottle of apple cider for after and her favourite mohair red checked blanket. Harrison was busy planning his next party for his new wife and to impress future investors in the various businesses he had purchased. He'd also taken to drinking in the afternoons (not a good sign). Kate's older brother was only too happy not to be bothered with the younger members of the household as long as they were out of his sight.

Hampstead Heath was dotted with people on that autumnal Saturday; mother's pushing babies in prams, small children running and playing games with kites, picnicking groups. These appeared to be fully functioning families, Kate was thinking, unlike hers. The pergola offered beautiful views across Hampstead and there were artists sketching near The Hill Garden as Kate and Heath strolled. They walked with their horses for about thirty minutes to reach the hidden garden and Glass House. Near the fish pond at the far end of a small alcove, there was a lovers' bench with panoramic views of North London.

They placed a blanket on the ground after they'd found water for the animals. Kate placed the food in the centre, while they talked and enjoyed the spread of chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, tea and crusty French bread that lay before them. Well, Kate did. Heath only ate the chicken – all of it. It was to be their last carefree day. As if to recognize that fact the sun hid in shadows behind the clouds as they talked, finally spitting down in tiny drops of rain. They had to quickly pack up all their belongings and head for the hidden, glass arboretum. As children, escorted to a night fair, they had once seen the stars in the evening sky from the same spot.

'Do you forgive me for what I said, the night of the dance?' Kate asked. 'You should have stayed to hear the rest.'

'Of course, Kate, tell me again,' Heath said as he brushed her hair with his fingers.

'Well,' Kate said, sitting up. 'I added, after you left, that actually, you are rather…strange looking and maybe not quite my type…'

Heath laughed, looked irritated, then despondent but as he got up Kate pleaded with him, 'I'm joking. Look, I found our initials that we marked into the tree when we were children. Here they are, bigger than before, clear as if they were carved yesterday.'

Sure enough, the initials of the pair were hidden at the base of the tree in a place only they knew to look. The letters were a legacy of their youth.

'You see, I knew even then. There is no one else for me and it is true. In this world or any other, I have known we were meant for each other, forever.'

Kate placed her finger to his lips.

'We don't know what will happen, yet. We'll find out tomorrow.'

Tomorrow was Heath's eighteenth birthday. Kate's was three months later. After that, they planned to run away together and get married. They thought by making it all official, it would be difficult for Harrison to separate them. As the rain spat down upon the glass roof, Heath leant over the seat they shared and kissed Kate, pulling her closer.

'Kate Spencer, will you marry me?'

'Yes,' she said, confidently, after they kissed.

'I don't have the ring with me. It's being made…so this is the informal proposal part…' They'd been whispering about getting married for weeks. Once they were of age, they could sever all ties with Harrison and make their own decisions. Kate had already spoken to the vicar who had known her since childhood.

Heath and Kate had been planning to elope for weeks but recent family events had hastened the proceedings. Kate put her arms around him and they hugged. Together, they fell onto the ground, laughing. The girl rolled on top of him; she was very strong and athletic and had him in a gridlock, on his back as he tried to shake her off, all the time trying to kiss her beautiful neck.

Later that night, Kate wrote in her diary that her wedding to Heath would be a triumph of love and hope over reality.

'I need to hear you say it, Heath. What I'm about to do - run away with you - means my family will disown me and we can't ever behave like we did at the dance. There can never be…misunderstandings that we can't fix.'

'How can you doubt me for a second, Kate? You are my family now and I am yours. I have never loved nor will I love anyone the way I love you. You are everything to me. You are my world…and the only reason I'm here. I would have bolted a million miles away from Harrison by now if it didn't mean I'd miss you so much…' Suddenly the blood in Heath's veins surged. His mouth felt dry. He recognized the taste of venom in his mouth.

'Of course, I'm worried. Dr Vincent has told me that it's unlikely I will revert but I may evolve. On my birthday, the day I reach 'full maturity' as he put it, we don't know what will happen.'

'Whatever happens,' Kate said, 'I promise to be there.'

'Kate, I could start off mild…and then if I transition, I may become… uncontrollable.'

'I love you, Heath.'

'I love you too, Kate.'

'That's all I need to know.'

Heath covered Kate in kisses as she laughed and brushed the ground off their clothes.

'I'm glad we're making it official,' Heath said.

Kate smiled.

'We only have to wait until three months after your birthday, it's all arranged.' Kate said.

Heath hesitated, 'Remember, neither of us knows what…my condition will mean…' Just now, he'd nearly lost control and kissed her a little too close, too deep.

'I accept you, no matter what. But,' she joked, 'if you think we're too young…'

Heath's face dropped. 'You mean you're not sure?'

'Yes, of course I'm sure. I just want to try to smooth things over with Harrison. It will be easier on us.'

'Listen to me Kate, there is no "smoothing things over" with Harrison. He means to make our lives as difficult as possible. Harrison cannot be trusted. He will not help us and he will not help you if you try to make it up with him. You remember how he used to treat us as children? The hours where he would lock me in the basement and put you in a cupboard before father came home and discovered him? Don't you remember his callous behaviour, the cruel beatings?'

'Yes, of course I do. He was always jealous of how much father doted on us. He was jealous of how much you and I loved each other. He called our desires…unnatural. I often wondered what he meant since he was never told about your…condition.'

'I assumed he meant because we were raised together, but that hardly applies now.'

'Harrison is practically my only family… apart from you. I always thought once he got over his teenage phase… you know he really went off the rails at boarding school, going to wild parties, indulging in bad behaviour. He brought all of that home with him. I just thought he might change.'

'It's his nature, Kate. Some people don't change.'

'It would be easier… if he did.'

'You mean, it would be easier for us… financially.'

'Well, yes. I am used to having nice things and a comfortable house…'

'Those things aren't important…'

'I know but…'

'You're not listening to me, Kate. I will give you all of those things… and more…just not yet.'

'We're so young, Heath.'

'Do you doubt me Kate?'

'No, no I could never… I love you Heath. I would run away to the moon with you, but just give me these few days to try to smooth things over. We'll leave the moment I turn eighteen, either way. I promise.'

Heath looked down at his shoes as Kate stood up and shook the blanket. She reached over and kissed him softly then ruffled his hair like she used to when they were children. He took her wrist and kissed it as if he would never release her from his touch.

'I am yours, forever,' Kate whispered. 'Sometimes it scares me how much I love you. It is as if I have left my own self and you and I are complete, only when we are together.'

They merged under the fading clouds as the shadows of two lovers became one in the dark.

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**Escape – Present Day**_

'Breakfast!' Greta called to the inhabitant upstairs. Heath was hurriedly dressing and came bounding down the stairs looking like a much younger man with his riding boots in hand, ready to go out.

'Not going to the office this morning?' Greta asked as she handed Heath his coffee which he hurriedly gulped down.

'I'm going riding, if the stables are still standing.'

'Well, the storm stopped about a week ago, but it's been raining ever since so I'm not sure it's the best weather for riding. Mud everywhere.'

'It'll be fine,' Heath assured her. 'Oh, I see we have a visitor.'

'Yes…your, er… niece, Katarina. She seems to have become quite fond of her cousins.'

Heath looked at Greta blankly. 'Where are they?'

'They've left already. Katarina and Linus went out to find props and attend a dress rehearsal for the play. What are you getting yourself into Heath?'

'Nothing I can't get out of. She has a right to know her cousins. They have a right to know her.'

Greta raised an eyebrow. 'This isn't more…vengeance, is it Heath? Because, you know, you already fought that war.'

'Did I Greta? I'm not so sure.' Heath, in a rare show of affection (he was in a surprisingly good mood this morning), leant over and pecked Greta on the cheek.

'Don't worry so much Greta. It's time I had some more young people about me. The place seems a lot sunnier this morning.'

'Oh, you and your "young people", Greta smiled. 'You don't look a day over twenty-six. I wish you could give me the secret to your eternal youth.'

'You don't know the half,' It was a strange comment, Greta thought, since Heath had shared his secret with her long ago.

The wind had flattened the heather outside. A slight trick of sunlight shone across the park turning the other side of the field gold.

Greta shrugged. 'Trying to stop Heath getting involved in something he wanted had been almost pointless, from the time he was a little boy.' She wrote in her journal. _'I knew I could do nothing to persuade him against his plan…' _

_**Twenty Years Ago**_

Kate crept into Hareton Hall when it was way past dinner the night Heath had proposed to her. There was lightness in her step as she moved upstairs to pack her things. In the dark, she heard breathing. At first she thought it was just Frances, who had fallen asleep soundly on the couch but it was also her older brother, Harrison. He flicked the switch on above the couch and all of the chandeliers shone at once, creating a halo above Kate's head. Her brother stared at her menacingly from the corner of the drawing room.

Meanwhile, Heath was delayed. He'd taken the horses to the stables to wash them down. Kate dodged Harrison and wandered over to pat Hinton's head and carry him to his room. He was curled up asleep in a lounge chair with his puppy and she hesitated to wake him. Hinton was always content to play with his animals. Today it was a new pet, but as often he picked up a lost kitten outside in the garden and took it inside to feed. There were always small creatures that found their way into Hareton Hall and Hinton's menagerie.

Hinton stirred awake just as Franny, snuggled into Harrison's shoulder, opened her eyes. Kate realised her sister-in-law must still be delusional about Harrison's true nature.

Harrison had, these past few days, mostly ignored Heath and tried to curry favour with Kate. Greta wrote in her diary that she wondered what new scheme he was planning.

'Kate,' he said out of the blue. 'Welcome home. You've returned.' He nudged Frances. 'Franny wondered if you'd like to go on a shopping trip with her…to Paris.'

Kate tried to ignore Harrison's bribe.

'Dearest Kate, I want you and Frances to be friends. Paris is close to Switzerland where Franny and I will be skiing. The trip is on me.' Harrison had decided it would help to have Kate on side, less hassle when he needed her to sign legal documents.

'When?'

'Next week.'

Kate nodded, although she and Heath would be far away by then.

Since Oxford, Harrison had worked at the family firm and in the weeks since her father had died, Harrison had taken over not just her finances, but control of the entire estate. Until she was eighteen, he had all the power.

'I've been thinking, Kate… and your mother agrees, it's time for you to go back to school. Father would have wanted you to complete your education.'

'And Heath?' Kate added.

'Oh, well, that's up to him.'

Harrison basically ignored the question. 'That boarding school in Scotland was always useless. It's where I went after all and I doubt things have improved and…I'm concerned that you spend too much time doing nothing meaningful there. You can finish your studies in Switzerland, visit your mother and also learn something useful at the same time.' Harrison looked at the kitchen disdainfully, 'like how to cook for your future husband.'

Frances smiled as Harrison sniggered.

Kate knew without asking that he did not factor Heath into his statement and their plan would have to go into full swing. Kate was angry, however, and she couldn't resist a retort.

'You went to university. Why shouldn't I have that opportunity?'

'Dear Kate, you will be rich. What do you need university for? You'll only marry and have children like all the women before you. Oh, and let me give you some advice, no man wants a wife who… talks back.'

Kate couldn't believe Harrison's disturbing psychological argument. It was the 1990s after all. Harrison had always been poison; she should never have even bothered trying to reason with him.

'And to be honest, Kate, father's contacts helped me achieve, not my marks at school. We don't have him to help us anymore,' Harrison said, just to rub it in.

Meanwhile, Greta stirred the pot in the kitchen, going over her written instructions to the cook regarding the lunch for the meeting of twelve Board members that Harrison had called. Heath was still in the stables grooming the horses. Greta raised an eyebrow.

Harrison continued. 'As you know, you are not yet eighteen, so you are still legally under my care. The truth is Kate, unless you want to be out on the street, you have no choice but to comply with my wishes or…'

'Or?'

'If you run off with Heath, I'll call the police and have you both brought back and the "charity case" arrested.'

'On what grounds?'

'Oh, I'll make something up. I'm far more creative than you realize. I have friends in high places. I'm sure we can accuse him of something…freakish or financial. Dipping into charitable funds? Being a vampire? That could keep him detained for a while.'

'You have no proof.'

'My suspicions are enough to make an awful lot of trouble for you both. Besides, you are under age…'

'By three months…'

Harrison's wife, who had been curled up in the corner of the couch, stretched and went upstairs. Before she left she kissed her husband's cheek, oblivious to the shouting or his true nature. After all, she had a family fortune to protect as well and the merging of both family companies could only be profitable for both families. As Frances left, she smiled at Kate with an almost pitying look. In that moment, Kate realised she was all but alone. If she ran to the stables where Heath was washing the horses and they went away somewhere with what little funds they had, they would be running forever if Harrison had his way.

Well, they'd just have to take that risk.

'I don't want to go to Switzerland, Harrison.'

'It's all arranged Kate. The driver will take you to the airport in about ten minutes. Don't worry, Franny will meet you in Paris the first weekend. Mmm…I sense your hesitation. I feel Heath has brought you quite low in the world. You are to leave this afternoon. Go upstairs and pack your things. Oh, and don't fret. The Hunts have a chalet for the holidays. You are invited to stay for the season. You should be happy. Six months will go in six weeks. Then, when you've finished school, if you want to throw your life away on the charity case, who am I to stop you?'

'No. Father would have wanted us to stay together.'

'Father isn't here now. I'm the head of this household and you have nothing unless I give it to you. Learn to obey me Kate, at least until you can earn your own living.' Harrison looked around him and added as an afterthought, 'although the women in this household have never been very good at doing that.'

'Maybe that's because the men in the family refuse to educate them.'

'Excuse me?' Harrison said.

'And Heath?'

'Heath is eighteen at midnight Kate. What he does is no business of ours. I have sent a messenger to encourage him to leave the property at once. I shall send him packing with plenty of cash, Kate. No need to worry.'

'That's a lie! You've always been jealous of him!' Kate yelled at her older brother from the top of the stairs.

'Even so,' Harrison said coolly. 'We'll see who has the last laugh now.'

'Where is he?'

'I have a police officer outside in the stables waiting to explain his rights to him. I expect he will choose to leave sooner rather than…later. He should have turned eighteen by the time he…chooses to go.'

'Another lie…he'd never leave without telling me…'

'Well, after he's been told about your decision, he's sure to want to leave. It's almost midnight after all. What were you both doing out in the park so late? Never mind, don't answer that.' Harrison said smugly.

'Heath knows it would not be my decision…that I didn't have a choice.'

'Mmm…' Harrison said with a smile. 'Well, we didn't really explain it to him like that.'

'I will not leave without seeing him.'

'Heath took his bags and left a few minutes ago. He'd be half way down the road by now.' Kate moved to the front door but Harrison warned her with his words. 'If he wants you, I'm sure he'll write. I must tell you Kate, this teenage passion you have for him seems to me to be very one-sided.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I have it on good authority…'

'Whose?'

'Edmund Hunt's since you're so interested.'

'What has he been telling you?'

'Well, he happened to mention to the son of a colleague of mine, that Heath and his sister had been quite close…'

'Another lie.'

'Is it?'

'You know Heath can't stand her.'

'Really? Well in my experience where there's smoke, there's fire. Go and pack your bags and stop behaving like a moron. A few months in Switzerland will do you the world of good. You can leave in the morning. And I'm warning you, Kate, you don't actually have a choice.'

Kate turned to go up the stairs, holding back tears.

'Haven't you forgotten something?'

'What?'

'Say thank you.'

Kate ignored him. She ran up the staircase. When she reached her bedroom Kate looked through the windows. The stables were quiet, the horses almost silently eating hay. Heath was nowhere to be seen. He must have been dragged off the property. Kate moved through the connecting door to the playroom, the place in which she once gained many hours of solace. The door slammed shut and Harrison locked it behind her.

Screaming was useless. Instead, she leaned against the door, slumped to the carpet and cried.

After a few minutes, Kate sighed. Harrison had not barred the windows. She was wrong to try to reason with her brother. This was all her fault for not running away sooner.

The girl picked herself up, went to her secret hiding place under the floorboards and found the documents she needed. Quickly, she threw her passport and some belongings into a bag and crawled out of the window like she used to when she was a child. She scraped her arm sliding down the scaffolding outside the building, flung her things into the car (she'd hidden a spare set of keys in the stables), and sped down the road towards the intersection. She was sure Heath could not have gone too far; then she remembered how fast he could run. The car shuddered and ground to a halt. The petrol gauge came up empty. Harrison must have emptied most of the tank, suspecting she'd try to escape. She would have to go by foot across the heath.

**Chapter Seventeen**

_**Midnight**_

The boy was walking quickly. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder full of supplies and the fruits of his gambling stuffed into the back pocket of his black jeans. Kate caught up with him and flung her arms around him.

He kissed and hugged her in return.

'I was going to wait for you, here,' he said. Kate looked closely at his face. The skin around his right eye was turning black…

'The police officer did that?'

'He wasn't a policeman. Just a thug Harrison hired,' Heath said bitterly.

'I'm so sorry. We should have left sooner,' Kate said, kissing him. His lips were still warm. 'It was foolish of me to try to find the good in Harrison where there is so little.' Kate added regretfully.

They hid behind the shelter of the bus shed as the weather turned and rain spat from the dark sky. Soon it would be midnight and they'd have to hide until morning. They were together now and immune to the outside world.

'This is all that matters,' Kate said as she hugged Heath for warmth.

'C'mon,' the boy said, releasing her. 'There won't be any buses until morning. We must find warmer shelter. Harrison is probably in an alcoholic stupor by now so there's no need for us to freeze to death.'

They trudged across the ground in the dark.

It was almost midnight when Heath began to feel a stirring in his arms. Exhausted, they rested at the base of an oak tree. The muscles in Heath's legs tightened and he was woken by the strong and sweet scent of human blood. Kate was bundled up in her coat next to him. She had scratched her arm, climbing down the side of Hareton Hall and Heath had a strong desire to lick the scratch. He stretched, resisting the almost irresistible. He knew he had to get to his vampire specialist in London, today if possible. He felt sure Kate would understand. The muscles in his body thumped and tightened. The need to drink blood overwhelmed him.

He quickly grabbed a packet of Magenta from his backpack. It was the new product his specialist had urged him to take a sample of during his last visit. This liquid sated him, momentarily, and he fell asleep again next to Kate as the snow began to fall on the glass roof above them.

They'd had no choice but to wait out the storm in the glass house, the place where he and Kate had once loved to visit, loved to be together, just seated side by side, barely bold enough to touch. Heath remembered best those moments of wonder and they only added to his love for her. Meanwhile, his desire to plunge his fangs into her neck was becoming more intense by the minute.

'Heath?' the girl asked sleepily.

'Kate?'

He nudged her awake. The blue coat she hid under was long and heavy, made for stronger weather and travel.

Kate opened her red eyes. He could see she had cried herself to sleep. 'We can never go back,' she whispered. 'He threatened to tell everyone about you or worse… have you framed for some fake financial crime… and he'd be capable of doing it, you know. He can forge your signature on documents…'

Heath looked away.

'I doubt he'd go through with it. He doesn't want to publicly besmirch the family name. Wipe away your tears, Kate. We have each other.'

Kate put her arms around him, but for the first time, he pushed her back.

'Don't Kate,'

'Why not?'

'I can feel a change tonight. I need to go to Harley Street…'

'We'll go together,' Kate said.

They huddled on the bench as Heath started to sweat. The girl spread her coat over the boy.

'You should leave me Kate; I don't know what is going to happen next. I want you to be safe. Safe, from me.'

'You can't be serious. You can't seriously… I could never love anyone as I have loved you… all my life you are the only one for me.'

'And you for me.'

'What has happened? What did Harrison say to you?'

Heath looked away.

'He told me I'm a…freak. That he didn't want my blood tainting this family…'

'That's not true! I love you. If you are a freak then I'm one too and I don't care what the world says…'

'Kate, listen to me. On the street, being pursued, we are nothing. Give me time. I shall get my antidotes, supplies, a job, make some money and…come for you.'

'No. Don't.'

Heath got up.

'No. I will come to you. I'm writing down this address, in London. It's a little café where I once visited with father in Covent Garden when I was small, before he brought me home that night to meet you. I went there once a few months ago with Greta. I kept the business card. Here, I've written all the details. Meet me there, eight am in three months on the twenty-eighth. The day you turn eighteen, you will be free of him. We will meet there and be together, forever.'

'Promise me.'

'I promise to find you again, if we are ever parted. But we are not going to be parted.'

The lovers embraced.

Heath's hearing had sharpened. 'I sense they are near…'

'No, I cannot let you go,' Kate said. 'I cannot live without you.'

'Kate!' He whispered, his desire to fang her was stronger than ever. Heath whispered softly as his knees fell to the ground 'I love you.'

A shout could be heard in the distance, then a whistle and a voice, 'She's in there!' Headlights shone in through the glass.

'Careful officer, he's got a gun,' Harrison said. 'He took it from the stables. He tried to kill me and he's abducted my sister…'

Momentarily, Heath slumped from the light which imitated the sun. Heath had his arm around what looked like Kate's neck and the police officer must have misconstrued what he saw.

'Don't shoot!' Kate yelled.

It was too late.

The shot ran out in the cold night air and went right through Heath's chest, barely missing his heart.

He shuddered and writhed in pain. It was a shot no human being could survive.

Kate was stunned. Motionless, she barely made a sound.

The police officer stared in horror at the lifeless young male. He was speechless as he bent over Heath's ashen body. The policeman checked the packet in the boy's lifeless fingers. His fist contained nothing but a water bottle inside a brown paper bag. No weapon existed on his body.

Kate screamed hysterically and placed her head upon her loved one's chest as she sobbed.

'Heath, Heath!'

Moments passed.

Harrison took Kate's arm and dragged her to her feet. She fought him all the way to the car and finally broke free of him, turning and running back to Heath's body.

The police officer, chilled from the night air and the shock of what he'd done, began dialling emergency from his car radio.

Kate screamed again as Harrison took a swipe at her. He forcibly dragged her back to the car but she punched Harrison and kicked him twice as hard. She ran back to Heath and flung herself upon him. In that moment, he was cold and still as she sobbed in the shadows. There was not another human in sight of the distraught girl.

'And then,' Greta added casually, 'the bullet holes started to heal. The flesh grew upon itself until not a mark could be seen through the holes in his shirt. Heath's chest began to rise and fall, his fingers moved, his warm, brown eyes opened.' Greta looked at me as she finished her tea. 'The last words from Heath before he got up and fled were, 'I will pay Harrison back for what he's done.'

Greta sighed. 'And sure enough, he did.'

**Chapter Eighteen **

_**London**_

Kate whispered in his ear, before he'd disappeared into the night, 'I'll pretend to go along with his plan - three months from now. The twenty-eighth like we planned.'

He kissed her forehead and fled.

Heath's disappearance was a mystery. Where a body had lain in the dark only mist seeped through the glass house as the solitary, crying girl was dragged forcibly back to Hareton Hall and then packed off to Switzerland.

The streets of Soho had been very cold at one am - summer, winter or any other season. It had been two days since he had been shot during his transition (and revived). When he fled Hampstead, after Kate was dragged from him, after she'd whispered the time and date of their wedding, he was speechless. Intent on survival, he disappeared into the Hampstead mist. Heath gorged himself on squirrels and hoped it would tide him over until he could get in to see his specialist, Dr Vincent.

Driving back to The Hall, Harrison was sure he'd seen the last of Heath. Although he suspected a vampire variation, he was sure he'd imagined, in his near drunken stupor, the events that had occurred in the early hours of that morning. It was, of course, Heath's eighteenth birthday. As midnight bells rang out, Heath was becoming immortal, shy of sunlight, wary of mirrors and gradually non-existent in photographs. Fearful of dawn and what he might do, the rest would evolve instinctively, over time. He would forge his own path.

After Kate was sent kicking and screaming to Switzerland, Heath's fees were withdrawn as Harrison had promised and the school was notified that Heath would not be returning.

Meanwhile, Heath's friends from Scotland were in school and he had no local acquaintances in Hampstead or the surrounding boroughs and even if he did, he wanted to get as far away from what he remembered of his childhood, as he could. He had the small amount of money he'd saved from running his school fixtures racket (and winning), as well as the cash Kate had placed in her letter.

'I do remember that,' Greta laughed and then let the story continue as if telling itself…

Heath had a small amount of cash plus the money Harrison had given him "what remained of his father's wish", as a "do not return gift" - one hundred pounds – an insult. It was a great deal less than he'd actually been owed; and none of the legacy left to him by his adopted father.

Heath used the money for supplies. He then spent the second night after riding the tube and sleeping rough in St James Park, in a backpacker's hostel near the West End. He now had real empathy for the homeless and resolved that when he became rich and powerful he would help those less fortunate.

As Heath was transitioning, his body was changing inside, but he never gave up hope that he would land on his feet. He was almost glad to be free of Harrison and The Hall but it was Kate's promise of love that kept him going through those cold, desperate nights.

On the third morning he emptied his pockets and realised just how short of cash he would be, once he'd put down a payment on a room for the week. He went to stay with the older brother of one of his school team mates but it soon became clear after a few nights that he couldn't hide his needs from that family and he'd outstayed his welcome. He slept in the park again but it was freezing. The humanity left in him ensured he still felt very cold.

By now, he'd managed to see his specialist, who'd commiserated with him and congratulated him on his eighteenth birthday. The tests showed a major change in his chemical make-up and it would take a few days for his medication to settle his imbalance. Heath still saw his own reflection in the mirror, still ate food and continued to try to live as normal a life as possible. He slept in more than he used to, the craving for human blood was stronger. The promise of Kate was enough, and all he survived for.

Heath was sufficiently recovered from the first step in his transformation. He'd experienced all of the symptoms: major light sensitivity, pain raging through his veins so badly that he curled up under a tree in St James Park and whimpered in daylight, cravings, chills and sweats. He found a tiny bedsit room in Soho. It wasn't long before he discovered, along with the bad side-effects of transition, that he'd developed the power to move quicker and think faster. He could literally see a massive series of complex numbers and add them up to get the correct result. His mathematics skills had always been excellent but now they were computer-like in their accuracy.

Heath resolved to find a job, perhaps two. He could always work in a restaurant, and then look for something else that would utilize his other skills.

He'd always been good at mathematics at school but now his mind worked like a computer. He thought working in a bank might be a good direction to take. He would apply for an entry level job that required no formal qualifications. First, he needed some fast cash since he'd nearly used up all he had. London was a huge place and although young and now partially a vampire, he did not allow this to deter him. Heath went to a hotel and merged so quickly through the lobby that they didn't notice his trip to the men's room. He used the shower and towels and cleaned himself up. He went outside and walked towards Piccadilly via Regent Street and into Soho, leaving his name at various cafes and pubs along the way.

Although he had no experience, someone was sure to need a kitchen hand. As long as the fumes from the cooking didn't get the best of him, he thought he might actually enjoy working with food. He realised, at least for the moment, night work would be best.

The first time he'd walked out in broad daylight (and London was mostly overcast, even in summer), his skin crackled, far worse than it had when he was a child. Then, he realised he'd forgotten to wear his medallion. He placed it around his neck after that, never taking it off, realising it contained the power to help him live a relatively normal life.

After he'd secured a job in a café, he applied for a job as office cleaner in one of the huge banks in the City. It wasn't much but both jobs gave Heath hope.

Meanwhile, he studied the stock market, hoping to one day make enough money to put a deposit on a flat. In those weeks, applying to finish school by correspondence, (something Heath once planned to do), went by the wayside.

It was during this transition phase in his life that he turned a corner one day and walked straight into Annabelle Hunt, rugged up in a cherry red overcoat exiting the building where her Soho art class was held. Displaying a previously unrecognised knack for rebellion, Annabelle had insisted on attending day school in London so she could go to Art classes at college in the evening. Her family had relented because Annabelle had so rarely been passionate about anything (apart from Heath) in her young life. As the girl had turned eighteen she had some say in the matter.

'Anyway,' Annabelle said, 'school was so lame once you and Kate were gone. There was no one interesting to talk to at all, except my brother, and he's hardly exciting.' Annabelle added in a rare display of personality as they sat together in the student coffee shop where Annabelle had insisted on dragging Heath.

Heath nodded. 'Ah, something we both agree on,' he added sarcastically.

Annabelle smiled self-consciously.

Heath had been resistant to sit with her at first, but strangely, seeing Annabelle reminded him of Kate, and talking to her was like old times.

'You look so different,' Annabelle said, peering into his eyes. Heath looked away.

'I have her address, you know,' Annabelle added as she stuffed her contact details into Heath's palm and kissed him on both cheeks in her European way. Heath agreed to stay in touch and that is how Annabelle became Heath's unlikely ally.

In his spare moments, Heath studied the stock markets. He learned a lot from the discarded ledgers thrown in the waste paper baskets he emptied at the firm where he worked on week nights.

After working in a pub during the day, he managed to put a deposit on a tiny bedsit. The plan was to save enough money to finish school at a Sixth Form College the following term then fill out his university entrance forms for the next year.

Annabelle had contact with Kate through mutual school friends and reconnected with Heath to let him know she would be delivering the cards and letters Kate posted to him, care of her. These postcards would have gone "missing" if they'd been posted from Switzerland because Kate was not allowed to send mail to anyone that Harrison, her guardian, hadn't agreed to. The "society" Hunts, were on his list.

Surprisingly, Annabelle had agreed to act as a go-between for the lovers. Heath hoped Kate would go to university with him. Although he knew she had her heart set on Art School in Florence, London was 'a better option' she had written, 'considering their finances.' Heath smiled when he read her note, as Annabelle looked on pensively. She quite liked playing the go-between. It suited her surprisingly humble nature, Heath thought, underestimating her, not for the first time. He knew Kate would be making the best of a presumably bad situation in Switzerland and he worked away the days before he'd get the chance to see her again. They re-confirmed the date of their rendezvous in their letters.

Sleeping rough in St James, hunting squirrels for food - those days were a distant memory - yet hard living had almost suited him.

He was young, verging on immortal. He could easily stay out all night and work all day but he rarely spoke to other people nor was he interested in other girls. He'd taken Kate's red scarf; she'd left it in the stables in a rush, and now Heath kept it in his pocket. The wool was warm and smelt of her perfume.

His own bedsit, although grungy, was like a palace to Heath after the turmoil of Hareton Hall. In preparation for Kate's visit, Annabelle had insisted on buying lengths of material and decorating the windows. Occasionally, she wondered what it would have been like had Heath returned her infatuation at school but her new boyfriend, Toby, was good for her. He was also studying Art History. She knew she was in a better place with a man who could reciprocate her feelings. It was enough, she thought, just to be near Heath but Annabelle did not underestimate how important his new friendship was to her.

Heath was excited as the day drew nearer. He walked past the place Kate had arranged to meet him many times that week. On the second occasion he was sure he'd seen her, but then the girl turned around and her eyes were nothing like those of the woman he loved. Kate had promised him. Kate would be there. Promises were everything. A promise was all they had. The walls of his room were pasted with the old-fashioned post cards Kate had sent him every day for a week.

Through all of this, Annabelle had been the conduit. A secretive message relayed from a secret meeting in St James Park. She had even tried to stuff money in Heath's pocket while he waited for his first pay cheque. It was enough to give Heath and Kate hope since neither of them had telephones and the internet was barely in use.

The sun shone in London as Heath waited for Kate and their reunion drew near. He'd been holding down two jobs and with a roof over his head, was filled with hope for the future.

**Chapter Nineteen**

_**Promises**_

Meanwhile, Kate was unreasonably cold in the Alps.

Her roommates were chattering away by the fire, three to a room. They'd only known each other for a few months but already they were friendly, Kate thought, especially after she'd shown them the picture of her and Heath. On cold afternoons after deportment class and flower arranging and French cooking and "How to Entertain Diplomats" or "How to Behave When Greeting the Royal Family" tutorials were over, the girls socialized.

They turned their iron upside down, pulled out the small milk pan they hoarded for this very occasion, and made hot chocolates by pouring milk into the pan and sitting the pan on the underside of the iron to heat the milk. Their drinks were laced with the cream and marsh mellows they bought in the tiny convenience store in town. The girls sipped hot chocolate as they talked. The topic of discussion was usually Kate, Heath and their "everlasting love".

One of Kate's roommates, Tracey, was from California. She spoke in an accent Kate loved and made LA seem like a place Kate would definitely like to go one day. Daisy, the shorter one with dark hair, was from London.

'Oh, he's really cute,' Daisy said.

'Yes, he's hot. I would…definitely,' Trace replied with a wicked smile.

Kate smiled. 'Well, neither of you can have him, he's all mine,' Kate said, snatching the photograph, knowing she'd probably never have the pleasure of another image now that Heath was in the process of transition.

'Are you sure?' Tracey asked mischievously. 'All alone in London after your brother treated him so…scandalously?'

'Yes, it really was terrible to throw the _foster _child…out like that,' Daisy added. 'My mother would never treat a foundling that way. It just looks really bad to the outside world…'

Kate had told them the whole story (well, the parts she could repeat – nothing about Heath's transition) but they somehow always got the details wrong.

'Heath is so hot,' Daisy said, glancing at the photograph of Kate and Heath taken just days before they ran away from Hareton Hall. Kate looked at the picture nostalgically.

'Gosh your house sounds so romantic, tucked away opposite a frozen park…' Daisy added.

Kate unfolded the letter she had received from Heath by way of Annabelle and re-read it as she stirred the milk pan, making sure a plastic skin didn't form.

'Only one more week,' she thought '…before I'm free of this place forever.'

The girls had been sworn to secrecy and Kate had worked out the route she would take from the school, down to the convenience store across the sleet road to the bus stop, down the mountain road to the train station, through the tunnel in the mountain…across the channel then on to London.

The café was in Dean Street. From the corner table you could see the cobbled pathway that led towards Covent Garden. Art students and opera singers busked there in the hub of shops and cafes and people.

It had been a long three months and in that time Heath and Kate had communicated using letters and postcards.

In the pre-internet nineties, Kate and Heath needed Annabelle as their intermediary.

The cards and letters Kate wrote Heath during their enforced separation lined the wall of the tiny room he'd taken. They began to arrive less than a week after Heath and Kate separated. Kate found a local bakery near the school where she walked to in her lunch hours and religiously posted a card to Heath using Annabelle's address. Sometimes at night after Heath had eaten food brought home with him from the pub (always some kind of red meat or chicken), he fell asleep reading the names of the cards on the wall.

The words: _holiday, skiing_ and _Switzerland_ became a kind of pattern in his mind; a pathway out of the daily grind he told himself was only temporary. He recognised a stronger desire for blood (and always the desire for revenge on Harrison) the closer he got to midnight.

His love for Kate tempered him. He was sure it made him a better person to know he had to be the best he could, for her. He resisted the evils lurking in St James. Daily, he was tempted by the homeless people on the street, the women in expensive coats, business men in even more expensive suits. Their veins pulsed at him like light if he was even a few minutes late taking his medication. He'd explained all of this to Kate in a letter; the one in ten thousand chance he'd had of being born a hybrid, then turning into a vampire; how his biological father must have carried the gene but not necessarily suffered from its affliction.

The night he was due to see Kate, Annabelle and some of her Art School friends took Heath out to celebrate the fact that he had applied and been accepted into a training program at the firm where he cleaned. His brilliance with numbers and ability to stay up all night studying ensured him the highest marks in the exam. They went to a restaurant in the centre of town where Annabelle, who had pretty much given up on Heath as anything but a friend, had arranged a surprise for Heath. Kate's arrival was not supposed to be until the next day, Saturday, but she'd managed to "escape" early, as she put it.

Kate waited for Heath expectantly. She wore a scarlet coat and a matching scarf and her hair was swept up in a winter woollen cap, making her appear sophisticated beyond her years. Annabelle arrived with a group of friends from Art School and headed to the reserved table.

'Kate! It's so wonderful to see you. I cannot believe you are back in London for good! Don't worry; everyone thinks you are staying with me. They won't notice you've gone missing until Tuesday - plenty of time for you and Heath…'

'I can't thank you enough, Annabelle.' Kate said.

'Well,' Annabelle replied, 'I hope we can be friends now, as we were always meant to be.' Annabelle glanced over at the handsome Art School student she was dating and Kate realised Annabelle was finally over Heath. Maybe it was true they could at last be friendly. Without her cover, she would never have been able to escape the day before her birthday.

'Thank you so much for being such a true friend to me Annabelle.'

'Not at all, it's about time Harrison got some of his own medicine. I've always liked Heath… as you know, but let's face it, he only ever had eyes for you,' Anne added.

When Heath arrived, expecting to see Annabelle and her other friends (who were now his friends) he was completely floored.

'Kate! You changed your mind and arrived early!' he said as she shyly kissed him on both cheeks.

'I wish. Tomorrow,' she whispered in his ear, 'I'm yours forever.'

Kate flung her arms around him and together they sat with the group while they all decided where to go for dinner. Something cheap but cheerful in Soho was the general consensus. Heath chatted excitedly about his new job opportunity and Kate told him about her plans to enrol in Art College with Annabelle.

Kate leaned in toward Heath and took his hand under the table. 'I don't care what happens now as long as I'm with you,' she said. 'Finishing School was a nightmare.'

Heath smiled back with his eyes and whispered to her, 'I love you.' He had invested his stock market winnings and had managed to double the money in a month. It was enough for them to have their deposit on a flat.

'The room in Covent Garden, it's tiny, it's not much, but soon I'll be making so much money. In a few years you'll be able to choose the finest house in London - or, who knows, we could move to America. I've always wanted to go there.'

They talked this way all night, making plans for their future. They couldn't tell anyone about their plans for the next morning, not even Annabelle. It was too risky to involve others. They intended to stay up all night until their wedding day which would be the following morning.

'New York is supposed to be brilliant,' Kate said as she ate the salad off her plate and passed Heath the chicken.  
'It is for artists,' Toby said. Kate was keen to meet Toby, Annabelle's boyfriend. Belle had been secretly seeing him for months. It was the reason for her move to London. Annabelle's father didn't approve of her dating an artist. In defiance Annabelle had run away from home. Her father had not dared to cut her off financially though, as Heath and Kate had been. Annabelle was in love (for the second time, Kate thought with a smile). Belle's new passion finally took the heat off Heath, although he'd obviously grown to like Annabelle. They'd made better friends than he'd anticipated. Unexpectedly, Annabelle dragged Toby up off his seat and they began to dance to some random eighties song together.

Kate leant in, 'Wow Art School has certainly changed Annabelle …"

Heath replied, 'For the better, I'd say. By the way, how long before they notice you're missing and phone the authorities?'

Kate said, 'You mean Harrison …'

'Yes.'

'Well, they think I'm staying with Annabelle until Tuesday. By tomorrow, I'll be eighteen and they won't have any say in the matter.'

Kate leant in and Heath kissed her, the strobe lighting played tricks with their shadows as he whispered, 'I'm under control. I just thought you should know. I've been to the specialist and he says I may not devolve any further as long as I stay on my…'

Kate put her finger to his lips, 'We love each other. That is all that matters.'

At midnight, Heath replayed those words many times in his head. He could see Kate's expectant face as Annabelle and Toby wandered off to another club. Heath and Kate hailed a taxi.

'I want you so much,' Kate whispered to Heath in the back of the London cab.

'Me too, but we should wait until morning.'

'What do you mean?' Kate smiled.

'By morning, the transition for me will be almost complete. My specialist told me the first phase takes three months, unless there is a relapse. I've been taking my medication now for almost three months and I'm… stable. I won't be tempted to…drain you…' Heath then looked away as he said this and pulled out of his jacket the ring he'd been carrying in his pocket since his first pay cheque. He'd lived on nothing and saved every cent to buy Kate the style of ring that he thought she deserved. The diamond was larger and more expensive than a young man in his position would have been able to afford, but it was a token of his trust in their future and his faith in Kate's complete love. The diamond shone.

'Oh, Heath, it's beautiful.'

Kate slipped it on her finger.

'Happy birthday Kate.'

'It fits perfectly,' Kate said as she slid her arms around Heath's broad shoulders and kissed him passionately.

'Oh, we need to do this properly,' Kate whispered, coming up for breath.

'Driver, pull over please,' Heath said.

The cab pulled up on the curb near the well-heeled part of Kensington where the shops were freshly painted.

Heath asked the driver to wait, while he opened the door and helped Kate out.

In the street lights, Kate walked with Heath towards a clothing shop.

'Wait outside,' she warned, 'I had access to some money for the ski trip I'm meant to go on. I ordered something from this store in Switzerland. The store had it packed up and sent to the London shop. You're not allowed to see it yet.'

Kate returned with a large bag. Inside was her wedding dress. It had been packaged up for her collection, all arranged weeks ago.

Before she could add anything in words, Heath kissed her.

'Kate, you have made me the happiest person in London.'

'And you have made me the happiest woman in the world, in the universe,' Kate said. It was first light as they drove towards the tiny church in Chelsea; Kate recalled scrawling the words _Katherine & Heath own the universe…_all over her school texts when she was younger. Soon those words would be a reality. Kate knew they belonged together - her dream was coming true.

It was freezing; flakes of snow began to fall from the sky as they walked up the steps. Kate emerged from a side room dressed in her cream lace vintage gown. Heath was talking with the vicar. They'd bought flowers from a street seller on the way and Kate held a large bouquet of tulips.

Together they said their traditional vows and both embraced on their promise. Kate shivered as they kissed.

They exchanged words of thanks with the vicar who remarked on their youth. After the promise of their love, they signed the registry.

Outside as they hailed a cab, Kate and Heath kissed again with an intensity that made people on the footpath stare.

Heath smiled, filled with love for his beautiful new wife. He had wanted her from the first moment they had kissed, yet they had waited to be free. They reached for each other in the back seat of the London cab as they headed towards Soho. Heath had spent his whole pay cheque on a suite at the best hotel in Covent Garden. The exquisite room with the Queen sized double bed and fresh sheets was strewn with the petals of Kate's favourite flowers as Heath carried his young wife over the threshold. For the first time in months, as they kissed passionately and undid the buttons on lace and silk, their lives seemed rich with possibility.

The afternoon had been perfect. The transitions occurred in the shadows, in the early hours, as Kate lay sleeping. She woke and hugged Heath to her, nursing him through his night terrors, checking they had all the necessary supplies of Type A, plasma, elixir, medication. The final part of the six-month process was the worst, they'd been told. Kate soothed Heath as he fell back into a trancelike sleep.

In the early morning, a knock at the door woke Heath. Kate had risen earlier and was using the hair dryer. A messenger delivered a note addressed to Heath who read it quickly.

'I'm just going outside for a moment,' he said through the gap in the bathroom door.

'Uh, okay,' she called out to him. Silence was the response.

Kate wrapped her dressing gown around her and padded into the room with wet feet. She searched the hallway of the hotel; nothing. It worried her that the messenger and Heath had disappeared into dawn.

Heath had hastily scribbled a note for her and left it on the bed.

**Forget me until I find you. Wait for me, I'll return. I'm sorry H.**

Kate was shocked. It couldn't be Heath's writing, but it was. Kate dropped the note on the floor, pulled on her clothes hastily and ran out onto the street, bare foot, to look for him. After an hour on the street, searching through the crowds, it was hopeless. Her feet, bloodied and bruised, were the least of her troubles. Heath had disappeared into thin air. All Kate had left was the memory of the first night they'd spent together, blissfully entwined in each other's arms.

**Chapter Twenty**

**London**

_**Three Years Later **_

Heath was walking home from work after he'd been photographed for the cover of New Business Magazine. The journalist was writing about Financial Whizz Kids – the title chosen for the article. Heath tried to remain himself but the art director had insisted on having his hair messed, his tie skewed and his jacket open, giving him the appearance of a rock star and making him more famous amongst his colleagues in a week than he had been in a year. Women he'd never met messaged him. Heath told them he was married and most of them stopped. He was too young to be married but then he explained he'd met his wife when they were teenagers and they just raised their eyebrows.

Soho on Friday night was lit up with music and lights, like a buzzing carnival act. The West End was busy every night of the week. Heath had been working in the City making more money in his first year as a stock trader than he'd dreamt possible. Through extreme luck and, some might say, mathematical genius, financial fortune came his way. He was a mystery to his co-workers, but Heath knew the truth; that he never slept, that he was able to do in one day what took others a week; he could stay awake and trade in every time zone.

After trawling the usual after-work bars with work colleagues (referred to euphemistically as "friends"), Heath often ended up near his home in Chelsea at a small cafe, drinking elixir from a flask and checking the Asian markets as he waited for his supper of rare roasted lamb, occasionally fish, sometimes chicken – always protein. He usually arrived at his house in the early hours of the morning and was up again and seated at his desk by six in the morning.

He was aware that more than a decade of living this lifestyle would take its toll on his family, yet he existed in the moment. Money markets and stockbroking firms were where traders like him could make a huge profit and get out by the time they hit thirty, which gave him about nine years until burn out. And then some, because he'd been warned now, he wouldn't appear to age more than twenty-six years. He had made a full transition, immortality beckoned. He loved the feeling money and this new vampirical power gave him. It had taken him less than a year to turn his life around and he couldn't help but congratulate himself on his good fortune. He never had any doubt that he was as good as anyone else, as capable as any person.

Heath stayed out late to avoid going home. It was true their house was envied in a street full of beautiful homes and families, but it was all surface. To the outside world, they seemed so perfect. Still, he knew he'd made this "fast money" by doing things he never dreamt he'd do – marrying into wealth, identifying the weaknesses of other men and preying on them. As he made money, others lost it.

When the waiter brought the tall, striking young man in the dark suit another coffee as he'd requested, Heath remembered the request from his wife. She had asked him to bring groceries home - milk, bread, mundane things, nothing special. The message had been given to him in his office six hours ago. She's added love and kisses as she always did, revealing her true self with each forgotten word. It had all become a bit old to Heath. He flinched when he recalled the embarrassing note.

Familiar music played in the café; a beautiful song, sung by a band Kate had liked, all about the perfection of a day. For evening, it couldn't have been a more inappropriate song. Nevertheless, the music played as Heath drank his coffee and went over the business transactions on his laptop as the wait staff began to clear up and wonder when the last customer would leave.

The words of the song played over and over in his mind.

Heath sighed, wondering why Kate always came back to him when he was alone. He wished she could be erased from his memory, forever. Any good psychologist would tell him he was better off without her. Heath finished his drink, and then went to the street to hail a cab. Of course, he wasn't far from the bedsit they'd shared briefly after they'd married. The West End was filled with his memory of her.

Meanwhile, Kate was at home at The Grange wondering how it had all gone so wrong. She sat in the window seat in the moonlight, doing some sketches under a lamp for the theatre design she was drafting. The drawings were a welcome distraction from her personal life and she'd grown to enjoy the drawing and planning along with the productions she worked on at the theatre with Annabelle; at twenty-one, she felt old.

_**Two years previously**_

Kate gave birth to a girl, Katarina.

The baby's birth was premature, yet she survived. Kate and the baby's nanny were waving toys above Katarina's crib in the nursery at The Grange, six months later. It was a lighter, airier room than the one at Hareton Hall, decorated with pink curtains at Annabelle's insistence. There was a familiarity at The Grange which led to a certain type of contentment as Kate soothed her baby. Just as she was about to sing Katarina her favourite lullaby, Annabelle ran breathlessly into the room.

'Kate, I have to tell you something,' Belle whispered. 'The detective contacted me this morning; he's discovered money being deposited into Heath's bank account; they traced it to New York. Heath's been living over there.'

Kate was silent.

'Don't you see what that means, Kate?' she whispered. 'He's alive! We thought the worst when his bank account hadn't been touched.'

'Yes,' Kate said. 'I felt he was alive. What am I supposed to say? He abandoned me.' She turned and walked purposefully up the stairs. The wild haired girl she had once been was prematurely replaced by a grown up wife. Kate looked at herself in the mirror as she dressed in her old jeans, red sweater and expensive winter coat. All she saw in the reflection was a miserable young woman, a terrible mistake. What choice did she have? Kate had wanted a father for her child.

Months of wondering and searching for Heath who was untraceable had been hard on her. The man she loved had proved himself worse than unreliable. She knew she should be forgiving as Annabelle would no doubt be, yet she found it difficult to smile. If Heath did return, he was sure to be angry.

'He'll come to visit you, I know he will,' Annabelle said as she walked into Kate's room.

Kate just looked at her, barely smiling. They walked downstairs.

'Well it won't do much good now, will it? I'm going to see what Greta has made for lunch.' Kate glanced briefly at the parcel Annabelle had left for her on the dining room table.

'These are the photographs I took,' Annabelle added.

Annabelle had taken photography as one of her core subjects at Art College. She had a job as a gallery assistant in a Soho studio. Her photographs were artistically lit but practically framed, perfect for advertising a production such as the one Kate was now co-designing in the West End.

Kate's passion for painting had not subsided. She'd also completed a theatre design course and her sketches were much in demand. Motherhood, and the beginnings of her artistic career, had gone part way to rectifying the monotony of her days. Katarina and painting made her focus on the future.

That week, Harrison, his wife Frances and her young brother Hinton, had gone to Ireland to visit the premises of a new company. Edmund Hunt, Kate's husband, was spending the day at his office in the City. Kate had agreed to house sit at Hareton Hall that night with the baby and her nanny, but only to satisfy her sister-in-law's wishes.

Kate was working on one of her final designs for the play due to open the following month, and feeding Katarina, when she rushed up to the kitchen and hung her head over the sink. Though her stomach was flat, she felt unsettled and nauseated, again. The thought of bringing a new life into her world was quite shocking although she knew Edmund would be happy about it. Kate put the symptoms of pregnancy out of her mind. After Katarina and her nanny were settled upstairs, Kate decided to explore.

It was strange to pad around Hareton Hall in bare feet and her dressing gown for the first time in years. The memories were provoking a strong reaction in her.

The mansion was quiet but it still felt more like home than The Grange. She felt the absence of Heath and her father, everywhere she wandered. The usual staff had Sunday afternoon off, including Greta. Kate had turned all the chandelier lights on (the electricity bill was sure to annoy Harrison) and turned the downstairs music up. She wasn't that far away from being a teenager even though she was now a mother; she felt like softly dancing the roof off, if only to forget how much of a mess she'd made of everything.

When she finished moving to the music, she decided to explore the upper floors. She peeked into the playroom where Katarina was soundly asleep. The nanny, whom Edmund had insisted on employing (she had raised both him and Annabelle), was knitting a cardigan in the comfortable arm chair and placed her fingers to her lips. Kate quietly shut the door. Although the nanny was brilliant, Kate sometimes thought the woman considered her too young to be an adequate mother.

Wandering alone through the top floors, she was surprised to find her former bedroom was similar to the way she had left it. Her school mementos had been placed in boxes high in the cupboard and labelled in Franny's neat, clear, handwriting. Photographs from every year of her childhood and adolescence, as well as old videos, were stacked side by side.

It was kind of Frances not to have thrown them out, Kate thought. Previously, she'd had little to do with her sister-in-law though they now lived ten minutes apart. There was even a box of old school uniforms. Kate took out her blue blazer with red piping around the edges, the one she'd worn to boarding school in Scotland. Then she pulled a large, woven basket towards her. She intended to have a huge throw out, to leave the past behind her once and for all.

Cleaning up was busy work and mid-morning; half way through throwing out her old clothes, Kate became bored. She checked on Katarina, kissed her precious face, fed her, and then considered her clothing options. Kate dragged her old riding clothes from her wardrobe and pulled on high, polished black boots that matched her long, curly dark hair. Kate twisted her curls into a loose bun and grabbed her coat. It was true that Harrison had maintained the house but it was sure to be chaotic again soon with the imminent return of the rambunctious yet adorable Hinton.

On occasion she had found Hinton, a few years older than Katarina, standing by her cot and attempting to hold hands with the baby or teach her words she didn't know. He was a very protective, sweet natured child, although Kate constantly worried for his future in the care of Harrison. Yet Hinton's good nature seemed to bring out the best in everyone around him, including her brother.

Thirsty, she stomped to the kitchen, aware of her noisy feet on the polished floors. The music had stopped and the place was almost eerie. Kate missed her father, but not enough to live in the house that held the memory of him, Heath and of their shared childhood. Kate poured herself a large glass of water and drank it quickly. Almost as quickly, she grabbed her scarf and went outside to the stables, pulling the door shut behind her. The wind, which was rising across the Heath in the distance, along the walking tracks and riding trails, was harsh. Her lips were red and her cheeks flushed with cold and exercise.

Kate patted, brushed and saddled her horse but she decided to walk alongside Hero through the park trail. It was not a great day for riding in her possible condition. Although it started out sunny, it became cool, windy and overcast. Kate knew exactly where to find shelter when the storm that had earlier threatened to interrupt her afternoon, finally arrived, after she'd been walking Hero for half an hour. Kate removed her wedding ring, the one that rubbed on her finger with the reigns and placed it in her pocket. She wore her first one around her neck, close to her heart.

**Chapter Twenty-one**

_**Revenge**_

Hampstead Heath had a thin film of lavender mist hanging over it during winter as she headed for the Glass House. There were very few people in the meadow at this hour of the day. Kate was invigorated from the cool air in a way she wouldn't have been had she stayed inside. Her usual routine - a light lunch, nurse Katarina, read or do some yoga - before wading through the play script that lay in wait for her had been replaced by her ramble. She had more ideas about the design of the play she was working on and had brought paper with her to sketch the arboretum. The garden was the central motif in the play and she wanted to take another look at the architecture.

Kate tied her horse up and got him some water. As she did this, a familiar horse rode towards her, or maybe she just thought his markings were familiar. As she looked closer through the clearing, it was the rider she recognised. He was slightly older, leaner, yet unmistakably the man who had filled her every waking dream and now her nightmares.

Heath alighted from his horse in the easy manner of a country squire.

Kate looked over at him. Even from a distance, she could hardly believe he was real.

He walked towards her, slowly, with purpose.

Before they spoke she reached over when he paused to touch his face as if to ask the vision before her if he even existed.

'Heath?' She whispered.

'Yes,' he replied. 'It's me.'

'But…you've been gone…for three years. I tried to find you. What happened? How did you come to be here?'

'Perhaps I should be the one asking questions. I saw your marriage notice in the paper not long after we parted.'

Kate was silent for a moment.

'You left me,' she said.

Heath's face displayed a knowing, hardened expression with more than a twinge of anger.

'I am staying at the pub. I have business with Harrison in relation to Hareton Hall. I went around looking for him but there was no one at home. I saw your car in the driveway and I didn't think you'd be far. The horses were there - all except Hero. One of them was practically biting his way out of the stable, so I thought I'd take him out. He seems to remember me.'

Heath patted the animal and went to tie the reigns.

'Business… with Harrison?'

'Yes. Greta told me you'd be here. You might be interested to know that I am soon to be the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

'How?'

'Harrison mortgaged it to my company; he lost his money gambling. The house was going cheap and I put a down payment on it. I officially own it as of…about three minutes ago. '

Heath smiled. Kate knew she didn't have the full details of the matter but suddenly realized how good he must feel.

She visibly shivered as Heath took her gloved hand in his.

'I am to be your new neighbour Mrs Hunt.'

Kate sighed, never having doubted, in the faint possibility if he ever revealed himself to her again, Heath would one day be the stronger of them.

'And what of Harrison?'

'Oh, he can remain in the guest cottage until he's found another place to stay. It's all arranged.'

Together they walked in breathless silence towards the glass house where they had met as children. There were overgrown hothouse flowers and benches and comfortable chairs for lovers. The chairs had been unused all winter until Kate and Heath rested upon them, side by side. Again they sat in silence for what seemed the longest stretch of time. Actually it was only a few minutes.

Both former lovers were angry. Kate was almost speechless.

'Did you read the note I left?'

'Yes, you said you'd find me,' Kate replied softly. 'It wasn't enough. All those legal terms…none of them true.'

'I needed proof. Harrison told me we shared the same biological father…' He showed Kate the note.

_Forget your unnatural desires, _it read_. Apart from the fact that you are a monster there are few grounds for an annulment and marrying a close relative is one of them. I tried to keep you both apart for a reason. Kate is your half-sister. Mother left because she knew! That's what they were fighting about that night, more than ten years ago. I heard them! You are father's biological child. He said so himself…Do Kate a favour and leave her. I'll arrange an annulment at this end. We'll tell her you changed your mind. I'm sure she'll understand once she knows the truth. I tried to warn you. Thank me later, Harrison._

Kate shook her head after she read it.

'I am not surprise. Harrison told me of the supposed connection. I suspected he was lying.'

Heath was silent. Kate tore the letter up.

'Later, after I married Edmund he admitted it was another of his lies, designed to tear us apart - only this one worked,' Kate said regretfully.

Heath noticed Kate's scarlet riding jacket. It contrasted with her black riding boots and reminded him of blood. The colours suited her well. Blood reminded him of betrayal.

He would never admit that he envied her marriage and longed for revenge upon her family that went further than just the ownership of Hareton Hall. In any case, Kate must have expected the foreclosure on her childhood home since there had been talk all over town for months that Harrison was going broke and had dragged the family name into disrepute. Then he remembered that it was likely Kate barely knew anything. She rarely spoke to her brother.

'What have we done Heath?' she said after a long silence.

He could see her breath, cold in the air and longed more than ever to do what he'd always resisted doing; to do what he'd done in the endless nights of travel, parks and animal blood. Then, after he had money, there had been the empty living of hotel suites, women and elixir to help drown his misery. It had taken him months to trace his mother, to find out the truth. The specialist had told him he could be fairly sure Harrison's allegation was untrue but for total confirmation he'd have to locate his biological mother and trace some evidence of his biological father. It had all taken so much longer than he'd expected, several weeks. He'd been in virtual limbo in the meantime, not wanting to burden Kate with his misery after he'd tried to find her. He'd seen her through the windows of The Grange that night, looking so content.

He felt more empowered inside than ever since he'd allowed his true nature to emerge. Once he'd stopped worrying about Kate's thoughts he could begin to live the life he was born to live. He looked at her again, the veins in her wrist and neck, thumping, tormenting him.

Her hand moved to his and she looked at him pleadingly. In that moment, he was sure he hated her unfairly. The glimpse of the wedding ring near her neck convinced him he was right. His plan for vengeance had stirred in him ever since he'd seen Edmund kissing Kate in the window seat that night. Weeks after Heath and Kate married; Heath's transition phase began to stabilize. He wanted her back.

Kate looked at him accusingly.

'How can you look at me like that? You married another. You didn't wait as I asked you to. Harrison had drained the family funds and I now see what a good idea it was for you to marry richly and quickly and…to that spoilt brat Hunt. I see how easily an annulment was arranged, given the feigned reasoning that we were biologically…related. I can't believe you actually went through with the new marriage. Of course, it all makes perfect sense, given the way you were raised and your brother's distorted value system…'

'In my defence, there was a good reason. You abandoned me. Harrison finally admitted it wasn't true but by then I couldn't…locate you.'

'I came to find you, weeks later, after I'd made sure…everything was as it needed to be.'

'I was dragged to Verbier to recover from my broken heart. I had a skiing accident. I was unconscious for three days! I couldn't get a message to you. I looked for you everywhere. I tried to find you but you had…disappeared. I waited for you… long enough. You had simply, vanished. It was…logical for me to…marry Edmund, I had no choice…I never believed you would ever come back to me. Not after the note Harrison wrote.'

'I said I would return. Love is not logical Kate. I'm sure your mother taught you that…' He coughed into the sleeve of his jacket as he said this. Kate was alarmed by his thinness and pallor. He looked hungry.

'You are so cruel Heath. You know my mother taught me very little except how to leave.' The woman stood, but she did not move away from him. Just being near him gave her strength and courage. The scent of Kate's perfume was an elixir to Heath, as magical as her blood which he longed to drink. He moved closer.

'Stay,' Heath said. 'Please stay. No piece of paper should separate us.' He took her gloved hand, looking desperate for the first time and slumped into her shoulder. 'Please, get me my…drink. It's in the saddle bag.'

Kate got up and grabbed a flask, taking off the top and poured Heath some amber liquid.

'How is your…condition?'

Heath took a sip and looked at her as if he might eat her.

'Manageable.'

He'd torn the leg off a turkey and eaten it before he'd come to find her. At least the leg was cooked. He hadn't stooped to raw meat yet, unless it was a fresh animal kill.

By then, from the look on her face, Heath knew he had gone too far. Kate, like him, had had very little parental guidance. The girl turned on him as he regained his strength, lashing out…

'You don't know everything…you don't know anything! You went missing after our wedding, remember? I thought you'd abandoned me or worse, that you were dead! What did you expect?'

'I… I didn't want to hurt you with the truth about our family… what I've since learnt was false. I went for a walk to clear my head but the transition caused me to collapse in a gutter. I woke up three days later in a police station…'

'You should have known…Harrison would do anything to separate us.'

Kate looked away.

'I know… for that I owe you an apology.' Heath said. 'Harrison's lie was a shock to say the least. Something I wanted to spare you. To do that, I needed the truth. I needed to find my…birth mother.'

He did not wish to elaborate upon the murkier details of the conversation he'd had when Harrison had inferred Kate was a blood relation.

Kate looked away, 'I know,' was all she said.

'When I had proof, I contacted Greta. She begged me not to make trouble but I had to find you anyway. Then I learnt you'd gone skiing…with the Hunts.'

'You had disappeared. Annabelle offered comfort and support…'

'Yes, I know, and her brother…' Heath said sarcastically, 'You've always been perfectly capable of impressing your…admirers, Kate. I hear you are the talk of the theatre world, young designer of the season, your drawings and paintings nominated for an award…'

'Oh, you never cared about me having a career…how dare you joke about it now! We both know all that seems meaningless in relation to…all of this.'

Heath turned and held Kate by the shoulders, 'You're right, I never did care about _your career_ as you put it, because all I wanted was you…'

'And you had me…'

Heath laughed sardonically.

Kate continued '… You were the one who went missing, _remember_.'

'Yes and now look at you, married to someone else with barely three months between us. Harrison must have really pulled strings to have the annulment rushed through.'

Kate looked away.

'The paperwork was destroyed. It was all hushed up. No one except the family knew we were even married.'

**Chapter Twenty-two **

_**Reunion **_

He was tempted to twist her arm with more than a little bit of force. Tempted to kiss her wrist, plunge his teeth into it, suck her blood and drain the life out of her. But he held back. If she'd come too close, he didn't know if he'd be able to control himself. Since he'd turned twenty one, everything had changed. Even with medication, he spent his nights out hunting, baying for blood, preying on animals when he couldn't resist. So far, he'd drawn the line at innocent humans but he craved their energy, especially Kate's. Her blood had always been tempting to him.

'I waited for you to return,' Kate repeated, frustrated with the tone of the conversation, 'until I could wait no longer.' Her words were greeted with stony indifference as they walked together, yet apart. 'I would've waited for you forever, if you'd just sent me some word, a proper explanation.'

'Well, it didn't take you long to make your choice,' Heath said bitterly.

'You gave up too easily…' Kate said incredulously.

Heath continued to talk. 'Stupidly, I left quickly, without talking to you. I went to find the doctor on Harley Street; I thought he would be able to shed some light on Harrison's lies, give me proof we were not brother and sister. My specialist was abroad. By the time I walked back to the bedsit to find you, it was almost midday. I went past that tiny pub near Dean Street where people had already congregated and was caught in the middle of a fight on the footpath. I don't know how it happened but I was knocked out and found myself in the back of a van being taken for questioning by the police. They locked me up that night and as we didn't have the telephone, I couldn't speak to you. I passed out.

Without my supplies, things just went from bad to worse. I became delirious. When I woke, I was desperate to find you.

There was a girl and a man that night as I walked back to our flat, and they were fighting and he brought out a knife. There was no one else around and when he threatened her, then me… I… snapped. I did not know my full strength. It was the first time I ever… fed on a human. The girl fled. The man was alive when I left him but I felt so despicable. Still, I wanted to find you, though I could hardly face you. You weren't at the bedsit and…I believed he would have killed the girl if I hadn't…stopped him - but I was out of control by then. I vowed never to let myself become like that and to find out the truth about…us.'

Kate was shocked; she didn't know what to say.

'Perhaps in some cases…violence is justified. I am not afraid of you, Heath.'

'Their fight started with a few misplaced words and a punch being thrown out on the street…but ours started so much sooner. We were always from two different worlds, Kate, but two halves of the same whole, even so.'

Heath looked embarrassed as he told Kate the rest of the story.

'I tried to contact you. I'd spent the night locked up and a further day talking my way out of everything - it's a long story - there was no match to me on the man's person so they couldn't charge me. Oh, that's the latest thing, my…fingerprints have disappeared. And… when I look in the mirror, I barely see my image. But I'm still okay in the sun, as long as I wear this.' He pulled out the amulet her father had made sure he wore as a young child.

'I was very…angry when I got back to Hampstead. I felt…unworthy of you, but I was determined to find you. I had my answer from Dr Vincent and I was satisfied the necessary tests had been made to ensure we were not related. Then, I made my way back here to Hareton Hall and walked across this park. It was almost exactly three years ago today.

As I approached the house, Hareton Hall was lit up like a Christmas tree. I felt a pang of…envy, jealousy as if I didn't know how I'd react if I saw you. Kate, for the first time in my life, after what had just happened, I didn't trust myself around you. I was determined to demand your whereabouts from Harrison if you had been, as I believed you were…sent back to Switzerland. I'd already contacted the school after I returned to our empty bedsit, but they gave me nothing, because they weren't allowed to tell me anything. Then they suggested you might be at The Hall. I thought maybe Annabelle had told someone… that we planned to run away together…'

'No,' Kate said, 'she was loyal to us both…'

Heath continued…

'When I finally saw the inside of that house, through the big lower floor bay window where you always used to sit and read, I saw Hunt's face, and Annabelle's, laughing. There was a puppy in your arms and you looked happy. Harrison and Frances seemed so… self-satisfied on the couch. Harrison was playing the "good husband" and talking amiably to Frances. I could hardly contain my…rage when I saw your beautiful, smiling face in the corner room looking outside.'

'I was looking…for you.'

'Well…I'm glad you didn't see me.' Heath said resignedly.

'I'm not glad.'

'When I saw Hunt come over and hand you a gift, something inside me, changed.'

'It was Christmas…tradition…'

'I gathered that. But it was unbearable to me. He…kissed you.'

'The party was celebrating my recovery. I could hardly walk after the ski trip. I'd been in a coma and I'd woken up…and you had been missing for so long.'

'I know. But the gloating look on Harrison's face and Hunt's obvious attraction to you, made me angry. I felt like killing him. You kissed him back, Kate.'

'I was acting. I had no choice.'

'I think you were happy with them… with the security Hunt provided for you in that moment …like that. It seemed to be what you had always wanted.'

There was a long silence that hung between them like ice.

'I vowed revenge.'

Kate nodded slowly.

'I have since thought… I may have been…partly…responsible. Heath, I called everywhere asking for you prior to the day of my marriage.'

'I was… not fit for company after that moment. I stayed watching you in the shadows, my anger slowly submerged into whatever is left of my soul, along with the happiness on your face.'

'Like I said, I was pretending. You must have turned away before Hunt carried me to the dining room table. But if you hadn't, you may have realised why I couldn't walk there myself. My foot was bandaged. It had nothing to do with love.'

Heath said, 'I thought you had made your choice.'

'Never, I spent days in the bedsit crying over you before Greta came and found me. I was whisked away to Switzerland that weekend, it's true. But I planned to find you the moment I could walk again.'

Kate looked down at her muddy boots. The horses, sheltered, were ready to move again.

Kate stood up.

Heath grabbed hold of her wrist.

'Leave him. I cannot be without you.'

'Nor I you,' Kate said. 'But I have made a promise and I cannot just walk out on that promise. Not right now.'

'What about your promise to me?'

'You left me. I can't just…abandon the family who have been good to me.' She paused, 'Please, will you come to dinner tonight? We can talk after Hunt has gone to bed. He knows I think of you … fondly.'

Heath laughed.

'Hunt will do anything, at the moment, to please me.'

'Anything? Why?'

He looked at Kate's face.

Kate blinked and sat down.

'I must have stood up too quickly,' she said.

He studied her more closely, blood rising in her cheeks. He'd seen this look before. A girl he'd hung out with in New York, a waitress who became a friend and worked in one of the clubs where he'd played had been dating a guitarist. After they left the club they got married and she had a child six months later.

Perhaps Heath knew Kate so well he knew before she did. She reached out her hand to him and pulled him close to her. His hearing had become extremely good since he'd turned. It was one of the advantages of becoming immortal. He sunk to his knees and pressed his head into her chest. He could hear conversations through walls so why not babies through skin? The two heartbeats pounded his ear as she slumped into him - Kate's and the heartbeat of her unborn child. He felt sick to his stomach and twice as betrayed as she attempted to take his hand.

'Please, come to dinner at The Grange. I have to see you again and I can't put off the dinner party I promised Annabelle we'd have. She will be thrilled that you are to be the guest of honour.'

He flinched and moved away from Kate as she moved closer.

'Annabelle? Is she still living here?'

'Yes, The Grange is half hers, Heath.'

'Oh,' Heath said, disinterestedly.

'She's finished her Art Course and has her first commission to paint some houses in this borough. She's staying with us for a few months.' Kate added.

Heath backed away from the woman he loved more than himself, with a blank expression. He wasn't ready to give her up.

'I'll be over in the car at about eight,' he said dispassionately. 'After all, Hunt should meet his new neighbour.'

**Chapter Twenty-three**

_**Return**_

The car was sleek and black. Heath loved it above the others. He'd made so much money these last few years, more than he could ever need or want and he was surprised it hadn't made him happy.

'_There is nothing in the world that will make up for a lack of real friends and family,'_ Greta said to him once, when he was a child. He knew it to be true as he slumped into his bath, took his plasma capsules and washed them down with red wine. He'd wolfed down a roasted pheasant when he returned from his meeting with Kate, his mind reeling.

The previous week, Harrison was asleep in a heap at the table when a knock on the door woke him. Most of the staff had left by the time Heath arrived at Hareton Hall. He was surprised he'd left for America without telling his sister about the house.

'What are you doing here?' Harrison slurred, surprised when Heath hovered at the doorstep.

'Come in,' Greta said, 'I was just leaving.'

Heath smiled quietly. Harrison could not prevent his entry now that he'd been formally invited in.

'I gave you six weeks to get out, Harrison. You can either stay on and look after the stables or take your stuff and leave.'

'How dare you? I haven't told my wife or Hinton…'

Unbeknownst to them, Harrison had been gambling in a disreputable part of the West End most evenings. Heath and some of his work colleagues had seen him going from one establishment to another until Heath himself had challenged him to a game of poker where the wager on the house had been set in front of at least a dozen witnesses. Still, Heath reasoned, he hadn't forced him to sign the legal documents. Harrison had done that of his own accord.

'Well, you'd better tell them soon. I just came to drop off some belongings and pick up my suit…'

'You mean my father's?'

'He was my father too.'

'Adopted,' Harrison added slyly.

'Yes, and the only father I have known…a quality you would know nothing about. I have no idea how you could possibly imagine I'd be your…blood relation. Oh, that's right, you knew I wasn't. Thank you for finally ruining our happiness. You never heard such a conversation as you detailed to me in that note…did you?'

'Of course not, mother wanted to leave. She knew father had not had an affair with your mother. It was not his way. He was honourable.'

Heath moved quickly this time. Though Harrison was tough he was amazed at the strength in Heath's hands as he had him in a headlock on the kitchen table. Then he moved closer and Heath (although drunk by midday as usual) swore he saw fangs emerge from the man's mouth and moaned and screamed for mercy as Heath threw him, using all the strength he had to resist savaging him, onto the footpath by the scruff of his neck, like an animal.

When Harrison relayed the story to his psychiatrist days later, the doctor recommended stronger medication.

Harrison had been so shocked, he could barely speak. When he did, it was more of a whisper as Heath detailed the terms of his ownership…

'You'll come to a bad end charity case… even with all your new money.'

Heath threw Harrison's suitcase on the landing outside the door.

'That's just the kind of statement I'd expect from a daylight drunk. You have a wife and a child to support. Maybe you should start thinking about how you're going to do that after going through father's millions. Face it Harrison, this day was always going to come…'

'Am I really supposed to believe that you did all this because you lost Kate?' Harrison bawled.

'I'm serving you notice, Harrison. Either accept my offer to stay on as groom until you find a job, something that goes above and beyond what is legally expected of me - and you, Frances and Hinton can have the cottage - or leave. You have two hours to decide.'

Heath brushed past him as he walked to his car.

Harrison banged his fist on the window as Heath placed the keys in the ignition.

'You really are something, aren't you, Heath Spencer. I did you a favour when I kept you away from Kate, when I insinuated the truth of your dubious heritage.'

'You mean, made it up. Yes, something I'm eternally grateful for. You know nothing about my history, as you put it, but the thought of having you as a blood relation made my stomach turn. I got tested. Kate and I share no biological relation but we have always been of like mind. Perhaps that is stronger than biology. All you did Harrison, was spend enough energy to keep Kate and me apart… for a while, but not forever.'

'She's married to someone else.'

'Not for long. Get your stuff and take it to the guest house. You're lucky Hinton's so young or I'd show no mercy and throw you out on the street.'

Harrison pitched a rock at Heath's car but the alcohol had damaged his balance and it missed, smashing a window of the house instead.

'You nearly hit me,' Heath said, rolling down the window. 'I'll add that to your debts, shall I?'

Harrison slumped to the gravel.

'It's mid-afternoon Harrison,' Heath said. 'Get yourself sobered up.'

'You…you clean yourself up!' Harrison bawled.

Heath heard the older man screaming at him as he drove off in his sleek sports car. Harrison wobbled out of the house with a shot gun that he was too drunk to point in the right direction. Threats hardly bothered Heath. He'd proved himself impervious to bullets. Heath considered feeling bad for Harrison as he drove off, but he couldn't. The years of cruelty Harrison had inflicted on him as a child made pity impossible. Now the captive would become the captor. He did not worry for his own soul or for Kate's anymore. Their fates were linked, he was sure of it.

**Chapter Twenty-four**

_**Dinner Party **_

Heath stayed in Hampstead that night, at the pub he later bought.

I had the dated receipt amongst his letters**.** Harrison had agreed to leave The Hall the next day. He'd delivered a note to Heath at the pub and was taking the family on a trip, with what remained of his assets. They would arrange to have their belongings collected. Heath was officially the owner of Hareton Hall and Harrison had finally woken up sober.

In any case, Heath did not wish to return to his home that night. He'd always liked the old pub overlooking the grounds of Hampstead Heath and had a notion, with his new found wealth, to buy it.

He pulled a Savile Row suit, newly tailored, from the wardrobe. Heath needed to look his best tonight. He showered, combed his hair, drank some Magenta and cleaned his teeth. There were few things that interested him less than fashion but he was determined to make an effort for this dinner party. He felt good to go as he grabbed his room key and walked down the stairs to his car.

Heath arrived at The Grange soon after to find it lit up magnificently. The Georgian house was as fine as Kenwood House but The Grange, being tucked behind a veil of trees, was more secure and not open to the public. It was the palace Heath and Kate had grown up alongside, but Heath thought, with some minor alterations, Hareton Hall would be grander.

The invitation was for a dinner party of sorts. Kate, Hunt, Annabelle and himself were to be the only guests.

Heath was the last to arrive.

Annabelle had spent hours getting ready that night. She wore a long, blue, figure hugging dress that reached to her ankles. To match her sparkling designer heels, she wore an expensive diamond necklace that had been handed down through generations of Hunts.

The round dining room table was set grandly as though they were entertaining a guest of honour rather than an old friend. The chandeliers were on full power and candles were lit in rows on the wall, highlighting the minimalist design. The interiorshad been recently renovated. It was a house that had always haunted Heath and compelled Kate.

When Heath rang the doorbell, expecting the butler or housekeeper to greet him, he was surprised that Kate opened the door herself and invited him in. She stood there, in a red velvet jacket, black jeans and fresh boots. Her hair hung in ringlets down her back and she looked like a girl who'd just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Kate's stomach was flat and there was not a hint of her pregnancy, although she realised she should probably have warned Heath about Katarina, since there were family photographs all over the lounge room.

'Being richer suits you,' Heath said, pushing past her and making his way into the hallway.

Kate looked at Heath and smiled, ignoring his insinuation. The girl greeted him like an old friend, a little too warmly to be a favourite brother and a little too enthusiastically for Hunt's liking.

Edmund Hunt, seated in the drawing room, was finalizing his applications to law school and reading over the notes he'd written. He had been warned by Kate to be civil. His marriage, still in its early days, was fragile. Their child, Katarina, lay sleeping upstairs. Kate had not mentioned her to Heath but her photographs were dotted all over the drawing room. Edmund Hunt, desperate to please his wife, was on his best behaviour. Hunt was aware that of the two of them, he was the one who loved more.

Edmund still couldn't believe Kate had agreed to marry him. He knew banning her from seeing Heath at this point would never work. Trying to convince Kate the man was beneath her would also be hopeless. Kate, although raised with generations of old money, had never really set aside her obsession with Heath. Hunt was aware that his money and class would never be enough to compete with Kate's childhood obsession. In Hunt's view, possession was nine tenths of the law and Kate was his now. Their soon to be born child made him sure of this.

Annabelle had dressed formally for the occasion, Kate noticed. Whilst it had recently been no surprise to see her in jeans and an old, paint-splattered shirt, her sister-in-law was dressed to kill. Belle had also spent the afternoon at the hairdresser's having her blonde hair foiled and waved in the latest celebrity style.

Kate worried about her, and not for the reasons Annabelle suspected. Jealousy was not an emotion Kate felt easily and certainly not in the direction of Annabelle. But she suspected, or really had always known that Annabelle remained infatuated with Heath. His contempt for all her sister-in-law stood for (inherited wealth, class distinction, the divide between him and Kate) would run deeper and extend to contempt for Annabelle.

Heath's pallor seemed tanned; his clothes were tailored and expensive. Annabelle had done some research and informed Kate that he owned companies all over town. Kate had barely listened. She was unimpressed by the way Heath had brought Harrison low, even though she knew how much Harrison deserved it.

Heath was dressed in a formal suit under a pure cashmere overcoat. Only Kate knew the scarf he wore was her own. To Annabelle, who was sitting in the bay window seat - the same place Kate had sat in when she was recovering after the skiing incident, waiting or rather pining for Heath - this would not register.

Heath thought Kate looked like a movie star as he hovered in the hall. He tried to ignore her as he casually glanced at the photographs on the walls. Annabelle shone in the background, but he paid her scant attention in that moment. When his eyes had finished glancing at Kate's infant daughter (she looked to be about one in the photograph), Heath glanced back at Kate, then Annabelle.

Kate withdrew to the kitchen as Annabelle raced up to Heath, enthusiastically. Heath stood formally in the hallway.

'Hello Annabelle.'

'Hello Heath,' Annabelle replied happily. 'May I take your coat?'

Normally, the butler would have done this, but Annabelle had been quick to the mark after Greta wished them all good night and given the staff the night off. Annabelle took Heath's scarf and placed it on the hall table not far from Katarina's baby picture which Heath appeared not to notice.

When Annabelle reached over to take Heath's coat, he turned around quicker than she anticipated. To her surprise and delight, just as she was going to greet him with the customary European air kiss on both cheeks, he kissed her on the mouth instead. Heath showed no expression as Annabelle blushed again and stumbled to the coat rack feeling as light as air.

The visitor smiled warmly. 'You are looking lovely tonight, Annabelle,' he said. Annabelle was excited to hear her name spoken in his velvet voice. 'It's been too long. I haven't seen you in years,' he added.

Annabelle smiled shyly and blushed at the warm greeting and unexpected compliment she had received.

'We thought you had forgotten us,' Annabelle said, pretending to be slightly put out as they walked through to the drawing room.

'Not exactly, I work in finance now. My work took me… to America.'

'I read about you in the paper today: financial wiz kid and all that. They posted a lot of details in the article. Apparently you are the most sought after bachelor in England. You should have stayed in touch,' Annabelle beamed.

'Well, the important thing is I'm back in touch now,' he said, staring directly into her eyes.

Annabelle continued, 'and then I read all about how much money you donate to charity…'

'For tax purposes,' Heath added modestly.

Annabelle ignored his response and whispered, 'I always knew you were a good person, Heath.'

Heath rolled his eyes when no one was looking and loosened his tie. His mouth watered when he smelled the steaks sizzling in the kitchen. Kate, dressed in an old-fashioned apron and playing chef, began to worry that trusting Heath to be civil tonight was a mistake. However, concerned she might lose contact with him altogether and unable to face the thought, she had hastily taken the risk to combine the three people now closest to her in the same room.

'I'm sorry not to have kept in touch, Annabelle. I suppose…real life gets in the way,' Heath added, changing the subject as Annabelle handed him a glass of red wine.

Hunt stood up when Heath entered the room as Kate re-introduced the men. They shook hands and talked about the stock market as Heath's gaze wandered, drinking in the family portraits.

During dinner, where Heath was most amiable to Hunt and Kate, it was as if the seductive kiss between him and Annabelle had never happened.

The first course was heating on the stove. Greta had left all the instructions as she departed but Kate kept getting up to check on everything. The table had been set perfectly and Heath recognised Greta's hand in all of the decorations. He knew Kate must have wanted the night to be perfect for some reason. Perhaps she somehow expected his re-introduction to the family would be a happy occasion.

Kate, who had been finalizing the sketches for Annabelle's play, had little to do with the domestic running of the house. She had been avidly researching the best food to serve at dinner parties…and the recipe for Heath's favourite dish of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

Heath walked into the kitchen, leaving brother and sister alone to chat after demolishing the first course of lobster soup. Heath offered to bring the plates and stack them in the sink. It was the first time he'd ever done menial work in a kitchen since Greta had allowed him to wipe the dishes as a six-year-old. He'd done it so badly she never asked him again. He disliked kitchen tasks but for tonight, he'd made an exception. He knew women actually liked men who pretended to be domesticated and he was keen to impress Annabelle. Heath found it funny because he thought Kate would have to be out of her mind to really be fooled by his act, but she played along.

Kate smiled, 'This is all going remarkably well, considering.'

'I'm not sure what you mean,' Heath said.

Kate leaned in and whispered, 'considering you hate my husband.'

Heath looked into her eyes, 'I don't hate him. The thought of him barely enters my mind. By the way, I saw the family portrait. How old is your daughter?'

'Katarina is just a toddler.'

'Don't you think I should meet her?'

'Not tonight. She's asleep.'

Heath shrugged. Kate sighed disbelievingly as she took the dinner plates from the top shelf above the stove. Heath looked on impatiently studying Kate's perfect curves as she retrieved various forks and spoons. The desire to plunge his retracted fangs into her neck, the curve in her arm, the crease behind her knee - demolish her altogether - was more intense than ever.

'Anything else I can do?' Heath asked standing close to her. 'I have to say, I thought Hunt would have more…staff.'

'Don't be stupid, Heath. Greta only comes in because I begged her not to leave me. Most of the servants quit ages ago. Hardly anyone in London has servants anymore. We barely afford the groom even though Hunt is, as you know, comfortable.'

Heath laughed.

'Is that meant to be a joke? '

Kate sighed. 'Of course I understand how fortunate we are. I volunteer at the local charity now.'

'Listen to you. You sound so…pious.'

'It's more than you've ever done.'

'True, but then I was born a little closer to the poverty line than you were and it's not a place I relished. Anyway, you needn't be so proud of your ability to marry well and your husband's ability to inherit money.'

'You think I married well? I thought you'd abandoned me Heath. What was I supposed to do? You disappeared for three years.' she whispered, wary that Annabelle and Edmund might hear.

'Yes, that was…unfortunate.'

'That's an understatement. If you need to blame someone, you should at least partly blame yourself.'

Heath reached for Kate when he was sure the others were in conversation in the other room. He leant in to her hair as he used to when they were younger and she hugged him, greedily, expectantly, wanting more.

Then, just as he contemplated kissing her perfect lips, he spoke.

'Oh Kate,' Heath shook his head. 'I'm just imagining what a boring little country wife you have become…'

Kate pushed him away.

'Stop it Heath, you're being horrible…'

Heath laughed softly.

'What did you expect when you invited me here?' he whispered.

'Why are we whispering? Never mind…' Kate stacked the pudding dishes. 'I just wanted us to have…'

'What,' he whispered, 'an evening reminiscing? Like the good old days! Did you hide the shot guns? Hunt can barely hide his disdain for having to dine with the help…'

'That's not fair, he's not a snob…he was…thrilled I'd invited you home.'

'I can't believe you're sticking up for him.' She was close to him now. He heard the heart beats and spoke out of turn, accusingly.

'You're pregnant aren't you? That's why you won't leave him,' Heath said as he transported the spoons to the tray.

'Heath…he's…'

'He's what? Your husband…the man you preferred to sleep with over me? The man you…love? Does he know you married him for his money, _because_ of a misunderstanding with me?'

'Now, you're being nasty…' Kate whispered, cautioning him with her intonation.

'Only now?' he replied.

Just then, Annabelle came wandering in, her long skirt floating into the room behind her as if she were part of an intangible mirage or some bizarre circus. She smiled at Heath, unable to contain her thrill at being in the same vicinity as this unknowable, beautiful man. The wind outside the kitchen windows groaned across the grounds of the estate. Winter air that had turned to a deep chill over the last few days warned them of the icy weather and snow soon to follow.

Heath felt the chill then smiled again at Annabelle. 'I don't miss the cold. America is warmer. By the way, I was just telling Kate how lovely you look tonight, Annabelle.'

'Thank you.' Annabelle said, clearly thrilled but obviously surprised to be complimented so publicly.

'I can see this is not going to be simple,' Kate said under her breath as she opened the oven door.

'Let me help you with that,' Heath said, obligingly. 'Kate was never one for the kitchen,' he said to Annabelle, 'and we wouldn't want you lifting anything heavy in your condition.'

Annabelle beamed, 'Isn't it exciting?'

'Very,' Heath said.

'Kate's told you…'

'I guessed,' Heath responded. The sound of the tiny heartbeat drummed in Heath's ears as soon as he was close to Kate. He wanted to savage her and was sated only by a double dose of Magenta before he arrived. Annabelle gazed at Heath warmly. She was thinking what an amiable and successful man he had become.

Hunt, sitting at the dining room table patiently, was closing the half opened window as Kate returned with the gravy boat.

'Darling, I told you we should have kept the staff tonight,' he said, deluded about the rising cost of living.

'It's just friends, Edmund. I didn't want anything to be formal.'

Now it was Edmund's turn to roll his eyes.

'I rather think I would have sooner entertained a rapper or a recently paroled dealer…'

'Shh…' Kate said. 'Heath is a guest… he's family.'

'He's not _my_ family,' Hunt said as Heath entered the room. It wasn't his style to pretend not to hear, to play the upper class games Kate's family were raised playing, but for tonight he would make an exception. All would continue along smoothly, for the moment.

They talked of old school acquaintances and the stock market. Edmund, steadied by Katherine, had been warned not to discuss the missing years of their lives.

Hunt boasted of Kate's brief but shining design of the classic play being talked about in the London theatre world and congratulated Heath on his obvious business successes.

'Yes,' Heath said, 'and, I'm sure Kate has told you, I'm…as of three minutes ago… the new owner of Hareton Hall.'

Hunt raised his eyebrows and looked shocked. Then he looked directly at Kate.

'Darling, you never told me this.'

Kate looked surprised. 'I only just found out…'

'Harrison lost it in a bet…and now, it's mine…' Heath added as Annabelle scooped raspberry coulis over her ice-cream. Not entirely oblivious to the family drama, she looked up wide-eyed. It was exciting that Heath was to be their newest neighbour. She would get to see him regularly. And now that Kate was married, her sister-in-law couldn't resent their friendship. Annabelle smiled warmly at Heath over her pudding. Heath looked at the raspberry sauce and imagined drinking her blood.

'But I thought… Oh, I still have a few of the pictures I was commissioned to make, left to do…of the Hall…'

'And you shall,' Heath added jubilantly.

Kate looked up, 'Would anyone like coffee?' she asked, trying to change the subject.

'Yes, please,' Heath said. 'I find myself absolutely starving for pudding, and I never eat sweets. That must have been the finest meal you've ever cooked tonight, Kate. What an excellent little wife you've made…the second time around,' he said condescendingly.

Hunt stared at him. 'We didn't ask you here to insult us,' he said.

'Mmm,' Heath replied, 'well, you didn't ask me here at all, did you?'

'Heath,' Kate cautioned.

'No, it must be said, out with it. Kate's _my_ wife now, not yours.'

Heath just looked at him and laughed.

'Yes, well, I can see by the light on her wedding ring - nearly knocked me out when we ran into each other riding yesterday. Oh, that's right. You weren't wearing one, were you?' Heath said sarcastically.

Kate shook her head.

'Let's all go into the drawing room and have a drink,' Annabelle suggested.

'Actually,' Heath announced as he stood up, 'I find I'm tired after all my…acquisitions today.' He looked straight at Kate, then at Annabelle.

'I trust you know you will be welcome at Hareton Hall anytime, Annabelle, to finish your paintings and photographs. The same goes for my new neighbours. Perhaps we could go riding again soon Kate.'

Kate looked up. In the still and without distractions, he could read her mind, _'Don't…'_ she thought, _'don't tell him…that I love you more…even after the fact that you've succeeded in making a fool out of me tonight…'_

Hunt looked at Kate, surprised she had already been socializing with this man who he had feared, it must be said, admired yes, and as a school boy, hated… Though now, he felt a slight twinge of pity for the person who was so evidently in love with what was his.

Later that night, Kate lay awake, reading one of her favourite novels, _Jane Eyre_. She read about the delusional woman in the attic, the first wife and wondered how much of the crazy it took to send a woman mad. Her husband had tossed and turned after Heath left but he had no inkling of the power Heath had over her, of how torn she now was. Underneath, she longed to be only with Heath.

That was how little Edmund understood her.

And who knew? Maybe it was a marriage of convenience, just as Heath had insinuated. Their partnership was a merge of her finances and Edmund's property. But what choice did she have back then?

Kate lay awake for hours in the dark, thinking about Annabelle's loving glances towards Heath at the dinner table. It would be a lie to say, as she tossed and turned all night, she didn't have any inkling what Heath might do next.

**Chapter Twenty-five**

_**Scholarship - Present Day**_

Slowly, Katarina and Hinton became friends.

WhenKatarina arrived at Hareton Hall at nine in the morning to help Hinton revise his written applications for the Art prize, she felt a pool of excitement in the pit of her stomach. She could hardly wait to see him again. Hinton had confided in her that he thought his written skills were lacking and Katarina had offered to help him present, "the best possible version of himself", as she put it. He had readily accepted and together they made a first draft.

The Hall, once the grandest of houses, had creeping plants growing from its foundations now, as if it were slowly crumbling from the inside. Over the past few months, the wiring needed fixing, the swimming pool had grown thick with leaves, the tennis court was left untended and the stables were nearly empty. The owner had become more and more reclusive.

Hinton didn't want to tell her why he'd felt a desire stronger than any natural one to drink blood. It was a one in ten thousand possibility, according to Heath's specialist, but somehow his condition matched that of his adopted parent. A trace had been done and it seemed somehow Hinton and Heath shared the same affliction.

Their lineage, a distant, improbable vampire link, was not all they had in common. Hinton and Heath shared a desire to feed, a fear of the sunlight and their own fading images in mirrors. Heath's was now an outline and soon there would be nothing. Today, Hinton's image in the hallway mirror had dulled considerably. Instead of a medallion, Hinton wore a signet ring that Heath had given him when he was small, to protect him from the sun. Hinton resolved not to focus on the negatives of his condition.

The winner of the scholarship was due to receive an apartment and a small stipend abroad. Prague would be darker and rainier than many places and Hinton quite liked the idea of that kind of weather, for obvious reasons. He wanted to get away. Still, only one person from the whole college would be chosen on the strength of their exhibit.

Katarina had insisted on taking him in her new car for lunch in Hampstead High Street. Her father had bought the car for her as a bribe for choosing to study in London instead of travelling far from home. Previously, the thought of Katarina leaving him was something her loving father had found nearly impossible to bear. Katarina, having recently turned eighteen, was experiencing a freedom she had longed for after passing her driving test. The girl was yet to tell her father that she had become friendly with Heath, Linus and Hinton. That was an "off limits" conversation.

It was a beautiful day, rare and summery, like the ones her father had told her about when she was first born. In those days, when she was a child, she vaguely remembered her young mother taking her to Hampstead Heath for picnics. Her studious father would hold her hand, walk her across the road and teach her to ride. When she was old enough she rode park trails on her pony and later, her horse. By the time she was a teenager, she'd become an expert, riding properly in various events on Hero's Daughter.

When Katarina asked about her mother's family, all her father told her was that he'd never been fond of Heath as a child. He grew up with nannies and in boarding schools as men of his class and in his generation did but repeatedly told Katarina he loved her - something his own family had never said to him. Katarina knew this was true and that he meant well. He had tried not to burden her with this now adult concept of his quiet, contained, isolated youth but one day he told his daughter something that surprised her.

'I never saw my parents show any affection to one another,' he told Katarina when they were out riding together.

'Something of an overshare, Papa,' she'd replied.

Katarina realised how different her upbringing had been from her father's.

How strange and quiet the heath had become in winter, her father thought, when he first bundled this little girl up and took her for long walks to Kenwood House. As she grew older, and had her own nanny, the family would often go for picnics in the grounds of the heath. Though the gardens of their own house were magnificent, Hunt wanted Katarina to have the normal childhood that had eluded him, or as normal as it was possible for her to have, so he took her exploring.

Being in his daughter's company pleased Edmund Hunt endlessly. He remembered so many dinners with his own father, separated by an expanse of dining room table. He was never allowed to chatter during meals. He determined to raise Katarina differently. Together they played a game called… _What if? _From the time Katarina could talk she was encouraged to ask questions: '_What if the world was coloured pink? What if the grass was blue? What if Mummy hadn't left?'_ This question ended the game. There were some questions Hunt wouldn't answer.

As she grew older he worried for her and for himself. His daughter was sweet-natured and generous. She had gifted him further understanding of the world beyond his front door. Katarina made Hunt see life for what it was, rather than in isolation and in relation to his needs and those of his family. He knew he loved her so much he would never be able to say "no" to her and dreaded the day she would ask him for something he could not or did not wish to give her.

Like the truth.

The morning Katarina and Hinton decided to drive over to Hampstead High Street, the place, busy with post-Christmas bargain hunters, was busy. Together they sat in the French patisserie and ordered coffee, sandwiches and sweet cakes. Hinton barely ate in her presence and when he did, he picked the chicken off his plate and chewed that first.

'Do you know why our families don't speak?' Katarina asked as she stirred sugar into her latte.

'Age old feud,' Hinton said. 'I think Linus knows the whole story. I only know my version of it. I'm sure your father would have a different account of what happened.'

'He wouldn't be happy if he knew we were all in contact, that's for sure. But I'm so glad you and Linus and I are friends.'

'Is that what we are?' Hinton looked at her quickly, wondering for a moment if she would say something more.

In response, Katarina looked into his eyes as Hinton took her hand. His fingers were pleasantly cool.

'I want to…thank you for helping me so much.'

Hinton slipped a tiny packet in the saucer of her tea cup. The envelope contained a delicate, gold bracelet with the initials KH carved on the inside. It must have cost Hinton at least a month of the wages he'd earned, working at the pub.

Katarina smiled as Hinton helped her to fasten the clasp around her wrist.

'Thank you,' she said, finishing her toast. Then she did something that surprised him. Katarina leant over and kissed him with her honey lips.

Hinton's face flushed red. He wasn't really sure what to say next. He'd dated girls, lots of them, but he'd never felt for anyone the way he felt for Katarina. He shyly took her hand and kissed it.

They had been reading together every day. Heath still got the odd word the wrong way round, but had improved considerably. He was sure the extra study he did with the tutor he'd hired (encouraged by Katarina) had gone a long way to making words much easier for him to read. His world had opened up and he was less afraid of what the future held when she was near. He didn't want to let go of her fingers.

'Over these months …you helped me to have some confidence, not just in reading, but in…myself.'

Katarina was speechless. She had looked forward to every moment she spent with Hinton walking through Hampstead and working together in the studio in Soho. He dreaded what he had to tell her so instead he passed her some documents.

'You need to read something,' Hinton said, 'before you decide if you want to…be my girlfriend…'

Katarina smiled, it was the first time he'd used that word. Then she frowned, what possible barrier stood in the way of this, her first real romance?

Hinton passed her his medical records.

'You need to be aware,' he said, 'that I'm not…normal.'

Katarina looked at him quizzically, unsure of the correct response. Hinton got up and left the coffee shop as Katarina opened the cover of the first folder marked: **Type A Requirements**.

Later that day, Hinton was in the college studio, quietly painting. He had a small supply of Magenta that he kept in the student common room kitchen in a flask. He quietly sucked on lunch through a straw. Since he'd turned twenty-one his desire for human blood had been overwhelming but this daily treat of Magenta kept it at bay. Vampiricism was another reason he and his uncle both liked and loathed each other.

Heath had been the first to identify him as a fellow bloodsucker. Hinton had been so full of self-loathing he was almost glad Harrison and Franny had never lived to see him develop from hybrid to vampire. Harrison had drunk himself to death in his early thirties and his wife, Frances, had been killed in a nightclub in Paris at the age of twenty-six. That's how Hinton wound up with Heath. It was discovered Heath and Frances (remarkably) shared a supernatural gene. Although Heath had not been biologically related to Harrison or Kate, he was a very distant cousin (two hundred years removed) to Frances and Hinton.

Hinton didn't share Heath's passion for chicken but he gnawed on a cooked chop that had been specially marinated, pan fried and wrapped in foil. He'd left Katarina with the open folder on her desk and didn't want to think about what her reaction might be.

Hinton painted freely. He was sure with brush strokes in a way that he had never been with words. He disliked any form of authority but was aware of his need to improve his basic reading skills. He was embarrassed to be this age, to be this bright (he had no trouble comprehending the world and had a photographic memory for numbers and people's names…), yet to still be such a terrible reader was confronting. He'd long ago accepted his daily need for blood but he was ashamed of his lack of education. He'd stuttered as a child and somehow he'd overcome this affliction in his teens. If Katarina believed in him, he felt sure, with her help, he could overcome his wicked desires.

He liked the solitude of the studio, deep in the quiet hub of the empty Art College.

Nobody was here late in the afternoon and there was not a soul to suggest changes to what he was creating. He thought of Katarina and checked the messages on his mobile; nothing. He wondered what she was thinking but didn't want to press her until she had fully digested what the words in that folder meant.

They'd been working on abstract expressionism in class, but for the first time in weeks Hinton's brush seemed to have a mind of its own as he removed the drying artwork from his desk and set to work on a blank canvas attached to a wooden easel.

He sketched the outline from a photograph taken on his mobile but then he relied on the memory of her perfect face. As if writing a first draft, he sketched with abandon, adding the base with great ease and little emphasis on detail. But then, as the hours wore on, and afternoon became evening, he built the intricate shades of colour that became skin on his subject's neck. The textures made him uneasy. Still, with no answer from the girl, his first layer of the image was becoming more complex, like a photograph of Katarina's face. Hinton leaned in and painted two perfect red dots on the paper frail skin above her collar bone. Then he bowed his head in his hands and sighed.

That afternoon, Katarina re-read Hinton's file.

It was less shocking than she'd suspected.

The word 'blood' stood out in all its satin, red stained essence.

The description of Hinton's "type" was unusual but not conclusive. For years now, there had been talk in the press about a rogue species; human-vampires. Born with a weak strain of vampiricism, they developed fully over a period of time and into adulthood. It was different for males and females. The females could linger for up to twenty years in hibernation and it was impossible to tell the difference between hybrids and human beings. Katarina had not taken as much notice as she should have but she remembered these details from a recent article on the web.

She wanted to discover as many facts as she could; she wanted to find out what this strain meant for them and how she could help. Regardless of words on paper, Hinton was still Hinton. Katarina realized this as she read the doctor's dramatic introduction: _he may not sleep at night, he may not wish to eat…it may be possible he lives far beyond the years of normal humans… _The words "immortality", "bloodsucker", "vanished", "feeding", "type A", "hunger", "forever", jumped out at her on the page. Katarina resolved to do some more research that evening.

Upon waking, after Katarina had had a few hours' sleep and the enormity of Hinton's condition had set in, Hinton would be greeted with the message - **it's okay. I love you and that doesn't change. I want to help in any way possible. Meet you tomorrow afternoon Hareton Hall. **

Katarina was determined to finish her Art folio the next day (of a series of photographs of Hareton Hall) using different levels of light. The girl also intended to start reading the files and finish the journals. She knew there was a secret that went beyond Hinton. The hush ran through the family. There had been whispers of a human-hybrid species for years in the media, but no one she ever knew had met an actual vampire; whole or hybrid. They kept to themselves, or maybe they just hid in the shadows.

Hinton, in retrospect, had displayed all the symptoms she'd researched on the web upon waking. His specialist had scrawled in the files… 'The young man has cravings for protein, then citrus, then…animal blood…which may develop upon adulthood as a craving for humans…' Katarina looked away. Further details were in the files that she forced herself to read.

The boy displayed a nocturnal instinct as a child. He'd tried to bite his own mother (at birth) and she had declared him 'impossible' to raise.

It was true. Hinton had gravitated towards Heath as a child. His sister, Frances, had stayed at the Hall briefly until she fled to Paris. Harrison had been discovered trying to beat Hinton with a stick, before he drank himself into oblivion. That part was true; it was like history repeating itself.

Katarina was surprised as she read the social worker's reports sitting in the car. Her desire to help and protect Hinton grew stronger with every sentence.

**Chapter Twenty-six**

_**Secrets**_

When Katarina arrived at The Hall the next afternoon, Heath was out riding and no one answered the door. Since she'd never met her mother as an adult, she relied on the memories of others. In her bag, she kept her fine cashmere scarf, and longed for more information about the woman in the photographs. Katarina knew there were many images of the young Kate in the boxes hidden in the cupboard. The man who had loved her, perhaps as much as her father (if not more), kept these images tucked away, hidden, along with her mother's memory.

Katarina got out of her car. She wore a scarlet coat today and the fierce, biting air made her catch her breath as she walked up to the house. Her dark curls fell in ringlets down her back. The girl took out her mother's old-fashioned film camera. The camera took amazing photographs and she wanted the particular effect film could create. Katarina snapped The Hall in the morning light, from a distance, then close up on the door handle as the gargoyles threatened her.

There was an eerie creak, ever present, when Katarina tiptoed into the house.

Heath suddenly stomped in through the kitchen, taking off his muddy boots in the larder.

'Who's there?' he bawled.

'Just me,' Katarina said softly.

'Oh,' he replied, 'I'd forgotten you were coming. Don't go to the top floor…renovations,' he grumbled, hurrying upstairs to shower and change.

'I just wanted to take your picture…'

'No…' he replied quickly.

He'd always refused to have his photograph taken. It would be a pointless exercise but Katarina was not to know that. She had begun to get used to his mercurial personality and shrugged to herself as she wandered through The Hall. Tucked in a corner, she discovered the Blue Room, which was lit with soft lights, chandeliers hanging from the roof and a hall of mirrors. It was so amazing it had once been featured in architectural magazines.

The girl wandered through the room catching sight of Heath ushering his dog out of the library. As Katarina glanced into the wall of reflections, hers was there but Heath's was missing. Of course, Katarina thought. The strangeness filled her world.

Katarina was nervous, but as she created art by snapping photographs, her nerves disappeared. By mid-morning, it helped that she had not seen a vision of the woman who'd appeared the night of the storm, nor had she heard her. Silence was littered by the sound of paper being ripped and thrown in the rubbish bin once Heath returned from walking the dog. There was a ray of light under the door of Heath's library and Katarina got the feeling he did not wish to be disturbed.

Minutes later, the silence was marked by the loud noise Katarina made, as she unlocked her mother's bedroom with Hinton's key. Inside, the room was all but empty. It was like a danceless ballroom with billowing long curtains in place of skirts and open windows and a wet floor where the rain had swept in, for company. As she stood, breathless, sensing a visitor apart from herself, Katarina heard a chewing sound and a striped boiled sweet wrapper fell from the ceiling onto her hair, like a feather.

Immediately, Katarina looked up; nothing. She noticed the floor around her feet was littered with discarded candy wrappers. They had dropped from the shadows in the roof. Katarina peered closer. In the corner of the large room there was a pile of messy, muddied, riding clothes. The jodhpurs and a jacket appeared to have been recently worn and discarded. As Katarina went to touch the fabric, a bird screeched outside the window. Katarina jumped. She wanted to take a closer look inside the room when she heard a voice behind her and a man took her arm.

'I told you not to go in here,' Heath said.

He was standing to her right, fully dressed for the office.

'Whose clothes?'

Heath led her out of the room.

'Please…just ignore what you see here. Most of it is…old washing. Greta must have left it. I've made us some tea.'

Katarina was so stunned she followed meekly. The interior of the room loomed behind like a secret as they walked downstairs.

Heath seemed oblivious to the anomalies of Hareton Hall. In the kitchen, he was more interested in demolishing the honey soy chicken drumsticks Greta had left sealed in a dish. He ate at least three of these while Katarina stood there, sipping tea, even though it was barely mid-morning.

They observed the view from the parlour of a now famous statue of one of their ancestors (an author or poet, no doubt, Katty thought) that was all but obscured behind a fence. Occasionally, tourists stopped by in summer to take photographs. Sometimes the iron gates would open quicker than they realised and usher those same tourists out of the way. Who knows what these tourists had really seen through the windows.

'I never planned to open the house and grounds up to the public, but with the worldwide financial situation, my advisors convinced me it was the smart thing to do. I want this house to stay in the family…forever,' he added quietly.

Katarina changed the film in her camera as they sat at the table watching day turn to dusk.

'May I?' Katarina took Heath's photograph as he turned to take his car keys from the fruit ball. The crystal bowl was full of peaches and Italian oranges.

'Hinton told me you know our secret. You must have worked it out by now. You can take as many photographs of me as you like. The images won't come out. I have to go to my office, there's something going on at work. Greta is coming around soon. Don't return to the rooms upstairs. They're locked now. Just shut the door when you leave,' Heath said, offering no further explanation. Not fond of idle chit chat, he stood up and walked away.

Katarina was left to ponder her predicament. Then she remembered that Hinton told her he used to scale the wall to his room when he was a child.

Katarina wandered outside. The gardens grew wild. According to her mother's journals, they were once perfectly manicured. Although now unkempt, they appeared lusher than any of her mother's recollections. The wind began to howl as Katarina followed the path from the surrounding grounds of the estate, towards the lap pool (covered in a blanket of leaves) and past the stables. Katarina noticed a few security cameras which unnerved her, but there were no lights on, so she assumed like everything else, they were in a state of disrepair. It was remarkable how useless the cameras would be in tracking the real inhabitants of the estate, Katarina thought, but then she supposed that was not the reason they were installed. At the gates, beyond the stables, Katarina saw her first sign of human life.

There was an elderly groom working with a horse - the other horse remained under cover. Both animals were black and sleek with sweat. It was obvious Heath had not been out riding alone.

'Good Afternoon, Miss. Katarina isn't it?' he mumbled, looking at her quizzically, as if he'd seen a ghost.

'Good Afternoon,' Katarina replied.

'I'm George. I've been working for the Spencers… forever. Greta said you'd be coming. She got held up at her meeting. She collects her grandson from his pre-school on Fridays…'

'Oh,' Katarina said. 'That's okay. The…owner has given me permission to take photographs over there.'

George shook his head as she walked towards the garden. Seconds later, rain started to spit from the sky and Katarina found herself standing near the outside wall that led to the upper floors of the house, contemplating how to climb it.

She'd forgotten it was Friday; she'd promised Linus and Hinton that she'd meet them for dinner tonight. Katarina would have to be quick. She would also try to act as normally as possible with Hinton. They hadn't had a moment alone to talk and Katarina wasn't sure what to say, but she knew she had less and less recollection of her real life outside the family she was beginning to understand. She glanced over her shoulder. George was nowhere to be seen. Quickly, she climbed the wall, using the strength and muscles she'd developed from years of riding. When Katarina reached the window, she lifted the glass easily and crawled through the dusty ledge, landing on her feet inside her mother's old room.

She looked above her, to the roof of the room. It was empty. There was nothing except chandeliers. Then she walked to the hallway and up the stairs. They creaked with every step she took. The girl was compelled to walk higher, to the forbidden floor. Linus had told her where Heath had stashed the keys and she retrieved them from his desk.

When Katarina reached the attic, the door was slightly ajar. The curtains were open and blowing in the wind. Rain splayed the sill. The door did not creak when she pushed it further. The rain stopped; birds sang. Outside, a rainbow appeared. She stood silent as the door quietly closed behind her, untouched.

It was quieter and lighter up here than she imagined. There were no cobwebs. In the corner lay another pile of girls' clothes, used and unused, thrown into a washing basket. At the top of the pile lay the same bunch of riding clothes, recently worn. There were boots with fresh mud on them discarded in the corner of the room.

Kate looked at the carpet; no footprints. Then she looked at the window sill. Mud dripped upon it. An exaltation of larks outside the window announced her intrusion.

The fine hairs on Katarina's arms stood up. When she tried to take a photograph through the closed window, the black covering in her camera froze. The birds hushed and through the silence, Katarina heard only the softness of her breathing and her beating heart. She sighed and leaned into the bar nailed on to the attic wall. It occurred to her then that the whole room had been converted into some kind of ballet studio. There were floor length mirrors along one entire wall. The roof of Hareton Hall loomed above her like one of the great baroque ceilings she'd seen in Italy on a school trip. Only the outside scenery, the wrought iron gate, fragile in the mist, placed her at Hareton Hall as opposed to some kind of Netherworld.

Just then, a bird flew in through the window, startling Katarina who crouched onto the floor. A scream rang out before she realized it was hers. When Katarina stopped screaming, the sound of another breath took over.

Slowly, slowly, Katarina raised her head until she looked directly above her. Hovering in the roof beams was a young woman. Sleeping, eyes closed, hair matted across her eyes, her face was obscured. She was curled up in pink cotton pyjamas and seemed no older than twenty-one although it was difficult to tell in the dark. The tiny hint of a corner cobweb touched the edge of her hair. Her arms were folded across her chest. She was cocooned in a pink, mohair blanket.

Katarina's scream woke her and the hybrid girl somersaulted down from the rafters. In a split second she back flipped off the high beam and landed on her feet. The young woman, a mirror image of Katarina, opened her eyes where she landed. Then she stood and drank in Katarina's face as if she could hardly believe the vision was real. With the threat of tears in her eyes, the beautiful hybrid uncrossed her arms and reached out her hand. She walked towards Katarina with an open palm. In the same moment, her image disappeared into shadows, leaving nothing but air.

The objects in the attic - an antique hairbrush, some ballet shoes in a basket, a used pink towel with cream lace edging, more wrappers of lollipops and sweets - also disappeared in that moment. The only thing Katarina had left was a memory. She stood frozen. Katarina felt sure no one would believe her if she told them what she saw. The girl's face had been identical to her own.

The teenage girl backed out of the room then turned and ran down the stairs, two at a time. Her camera strap was still wrapped around her wrist and she heard the snap in sunlight as the film started automatically, winding again.

George, the groundsman, hovered at the front door.

'The master won't be happy about you wandering through the house alone.'

'He gave me permission to take photographs,' Katarina sniffed. 'Besides, he's not my master!' Katarina added. 'Nor yours. Do you… Do you know what… _who_ is in this house?

George raised his eyes and pulled some leaves out of the rake he held.

'Yes.' He spoke in a thick, Northern accent. Katarina could still hear the high, sweet voice of a Lark, singing in the rafters.

'Did you hear that?' Katarina asked aloud.

He nodded. 'There's been talk of… bloodsuckers here for years. Some like to refer to them as ghosts…makes people feel better I suppose. It's because they're up all night,' he added. The pretty tune stopped and all that remained was the noise of George's rake, as if he'd already forgotten what he said.

Reality seemed to elude all who visited The Hall, except her. Katarina felt sure the secrets held the key to the mystery of her family. The vampire girl in the roof was similar to her and to…her mother. Katarina needed answers.

George simply stared into the distance.

Katarina waited on the front steps. Greta had texted to apologise and re-schedule. It was all that kept Katarina from running away forever. It was late in the day by then and already the sun was setting.

'They say memory is something that exists in a person's mind forever; we just have to know how to unlock it when we forget something.' George said out of the blue.

'You must have a lot of memories of this place,' Katarina replied.

'Oh yes, Miss. What I have seen… ' he sighed as he walked towards the shed.

**Chapter Twenty-seven**

_**The Girl in The Attic**_

Hinton had a bad feeling. He texted Katarina and they agreed to meet in the Glass House. They could go to dinner at The Grange after they'd had a chance to speak. At least outside was safer and, still needing more external shots of the heath in twilight, Katarina lifted the latch of the iron gate. The entrance to the private garden was the exact place she had read about in her mother's journal.

The gate led to a maze that in turn spilt into an abandoned part of the heath. Katarina wore her walking boots as she rambled in her rolled up jeans, a long coat and scarf draped around her shoulders. As the winter evening closed in on her, Katarina buttoned up her coat and pulled the belt tight around her tiny waist. The young girl walked towards the now private arboretum, largely abandoned in winter and known only to those who lived close by. The directions had been detailed in her mother's journal. Her father had taken her there, only once, as a child.

The wind howled and Katarina's camera tossed and whipped around her wrist. She suddenly wished she'd modernized her instrument. If she'd had a passion for digital, the camera would not be so heavy or so much trouble.

Almost immediately and without warning, the air had turned to pre-snow iciness. Katarina could see her breath and soft flecks of powder fell around her feet. Autumn had been so unpredictable this year. As ice began to spit from the sky, Katarina stumbled inside the shelter.

The glass house, located behind a woodland meadow, had been restored in recent years. It was so beautiful that she resolved to take Hinton here. When Katarina thought of Hinton, she smiled. Their tutoring sessions had started playfully enough but then Hinton seemed to improve exponentially. She was certain his initial unfriendliness towards her had been related to his secrets and not his arrogance. It was a wonder Hinton was the person he was, when she considered how many challenges he had had - the loss of his parents, the discovery of his rare needs. She was proud of him. Hinton had the courage to seek acceptance however weird and bizarre his lineage.

Somehow, everything would work out. There was a quote from a Shakespearean sonnet she had read at school that came to mind: _Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds… O no! It is an ever-fixed mark / That looks on tempests and is never shaken…_

The deep thrill she felt inside at the merest thought of seeing him again was unlike anything she had experienced. She wondered if he felt the same and hoped that he did.

Katarina knew for certain that her father would not be happy about her connection to the Spencers, and would never have encouraged their meeting in the first place. In just a few weeks, the course of her life had altered completely. Katarina felt sure of her decision to support Hinton as she sat in the garden seat waiting for him.

Her breath was visible on the glass now. It was heating up as Katarina waited patiently for Hinton who had just texted her to say he was on his way. She unwound her scarf, took off her woollen snood and pulled off her gloves. As she did so, she dropped one of them on the ground and reached to pick it up.

Hadn't Linus, taking into account his stupid theatrical superstitions, once told her, that, "in the theatre a lady should never retrieve her own glove. Instead, she should wait for another to pick it up for her." Katarina, knowing how silly this seemed, reached down for the glove but couldn't find it in the shadows.

Finally, hunched under the chair and looking for the glove, she was confronted with the words of ancient lovers - or they seemed ancient to her.

At the base of the tree, behind the arboretum chair were the words HEATH & KATE 1988 carved into the growing wood. Like a child, Kate wound her fingers over the engraving, forgetting all about her missing glove in the process. An onlooker might have thought the glove had simply disappeared or been taken by a ghost. Outside, the wind drove a branch into the glass wall which frightened Katarina and made her turn around suddenly to see a grown man in a long coat, standing, illuminated by lightening in the darkness.

'Hinton can't come,' Heath said.

Katarina looked up so quickly she slipped and Heath moved and caught her by the arm.

'I came home from the city to collect a file I left. George said you'd be here.'

'I…I was just…'

'Tutoring Hinton? Yes, he told me. He's certainly improving. Well, anything would be an improvement. That boy's spelling is atrocious and no tutor I've paid has ever done anything for him.' Heath seemed annoyed. 'George told me you've been…inside the attic, taking photographs. Good luck, the images won't develop.'

It was time for a little bit of honesty, Katarina thought, as they both walked outside to her Uncle's sleek, waiting car.

'Never mind, there is honour in the attempt,' Katarina said. Heath walked quickly and Katarina asked directly, 'Who is the girl in the attic?'

Heath paused for a moment and then responded. 'She is a hybrid, a human transitioning into a vampire who has lived at Hareton Hall longer than me. There were complications with her transition. It has taken longer than expected. You must know there is strangeness in this… family'

'Yes. So I've gathered. I've been told some things about Hinton. But, I'm not just his tutor. I'm his friend. And it's pretty obvious Hareton Hall is haunted.'

Heath smiled at the use of her old fashioned word.

'The house has always attracted comment,' was all he added.

The sleek Jaguar was waiting on the other side of the park and they seemed to reach the car in double quick time as Heath hurried Katarina along.

'Get in,' Heath said as he reversed the car. 'Listen to me. Hinton is a player. He doesn't have friends who are girls.'

Katarina looked at him sharply. 'Well, he does now.'

There was silence for a moment as Heath digested this.

Katarina changed the subject. 'Is that why I can't see your breath?'

Heath was lost for words for the first time as they drove through the winding road towards her house. He did not answer her question directly. 'Now, there's a bit more of your mother in you,' he responded. 'You can't see my breath… because it's not cold enough.'

'You could see mine. Why is there a… girl in the attic?'

Katarina looked down, jealous that he knew so much more about the cocooned hybrid than she did.

'What do you mean?'

'She looked like me, sleeping on the ledge, and I look like my mother.'

'Katarina… you're imagining things. I can take you there now and the attic will be empty. Yes, it has been said the girl haunts the house but you have to forget this. It will bring you no comfort. You can never touch her or speak to her… or even see her properly. I know Linus took you to one of his wild parties. I can only imagine what they get up to there. You're not…on anything are you? I mean anything that might make you hallucinate.'

'No,' Katarina said quickly.

'Ah… there's the fire.'

'What do you mean?'

'The fire that your mother had in her personality.'

Katarina cringed. 'Is that why you liked her?'

'I, I suppose so,' Heath said.

'Are you going to tell me the truth?'

'I'm going to try, but not now.' he responded.

'When?'

'Soon. In the meantime, read your mother's journal. I know you have it.'

Katarina glanced at Heath incredulously.

The man didn't want to talk any more tonight. This girl was half his age, far too young to understand the depth of his feelings for her mother. He was in no mood for explaining the supernatural. Not now. He was tired; a long day trading stocks and shares will do that to a man.

He was also concerned that the cousins were getting close. It wasn't meant to happen like this, so far out of his control. His son had been given instructions to befriend then dump her, and it wasn't really going to plan now that Hinton had taken it further and just left it at "befriend her". Didn't he realise how much Heath hated her father? How little they owed the Hunts? It was time to end this stupid game.

Heath pulled up suddenly.

'Where are we going?' Katarina asked.

'To The Grange, your father is expecting you. I called him. The dinner date has been cancelled. Hinton and Linus sent me to tell you. Neither of them could get away from having to work late.'

They drove in silence, the short way, before arriving at the gravel driveway of The Grange.

'Would you like to come inside?' Katarina offered. 'It's very warm and cosy compared to The Hall.'

Heath contemplated her offer for a moment. 'I suppose you would think that. But I went to dinner at The Grange once and the atmosphere just about froze ice.'

Katarina looked startled.

'The snow seems to have settled, go on then. You're safe to walk up the path. I'll stay here until you've gone inside.'

Katarina slammed the door loudly as she got out of Heath's car.

Heath was quite annoyed at himself. This young girl was making him less brash, kinder. It didn't suit him at all, and she'd discovered Kate's hiding place and the glass house, which was irritating. How long before she discovered even more secrets?

Once again, Heath didn't like the thought of her becoming too close, though it was his desire that she and Hinton… well, ultimately he wanted The Grange and it hadn't been on the market, ever. Katarina was heir. It was important his plan proceed. Heath was glad she hadn't acknowledged the tree markings he and Kate had carved on that bitterly cold afternoon. It was so long ago now. The girl must have seen them. He longed for a return to those days, for Kate to come back to him. He had waited so long to unlock the past.

In the distance, The Grange reminded him of Annabelle.

**Chapter Twenty-eight **

_**Annabelle **_

The day after the infamous Grange dinner party, Heath decided to ring Annabelle. He asked her to come to dinner with him. Bored with the usual pattern: work, money, a feeding frenzy sated by the local blood bank - he needed a distraction. He'd been denying his true nature for too long, but there was very little alternative in polite society. Besides, Kate had moved on.

He would do the same.

That evening, Annabel arrived at his office in her work clothes. She'd been promoted at the gallery to Publicity Officer and her expensive blue suit shimmered under the lights as Heath gave her a tour of the new company premises. Afterwards, they went to dinner. Every night the following week, they did the same.

Sometimes they met up in Soho near the gallery where Annabelle was working with a more experienced Art Historian. She hoped to manage the gallery one day and Heath was surprised at her entrepreneurial vision. Annabelle was delighted by Heath's availability and newly amenable nature. He was like a new person, genuinely complementary of her work in the gallery, the place Kate one day planned to display some of her pictures.

They'd been going out for about six weeks when they met for lunch in a popular restaurant with long glass windows overlooking the Thames. Annabelle had a frown as she scanned the lunch menu. Heath once preferred pubs but his new job came with an expense account that he felt obligated to use. Annabelle was very impressed with this, but barely ordered anything.

'I'll have the soup please,' Annabelle said to the waiter who seemed unsure, as if it was his first day.

'Typical,' Heath thought, as he noticed Annabelle eating like a bird.

After they'd eaten, Annabelle told him about her day and Heath pretended to be interested. He knew he'd have to try a little harder if he wanted to pass the six-week boyfriend stage with Annabelle.

'Heath…did you hear me?'

Miles away, Heath had tuned out and was staring through the window at the panoramic London views. This was not a good sign. He was wondering how he'd dis-entangle himself from the possibility of an actual relationship with this woman whom he'd thought of as a friend - at worst, a plan. Sensing this, Annabelle did something unusual. She shocked him.

'Did you hear me Heath?'

Annabelle burst into tears as she talked.

Heath, sensing her need, couldn't believe his good fortune. Though never very interested in problems of a female nature, he'd have to make an exception in this instance. The words "unexpected pregnancy" gave him a chance to play the hero, no questions asked and also to get back at the woman he loved. The circumstances were too good to resist. He could take the plan further than he'd initially intended.

'I…I don't know what to do,' she gulped as she talked, irritating Heath who was nothing less than riveted by her out of character tale. It shouldn't have surprised him; Annabelle was needy and unpredictable. She'd barely waited for him to pay for dinner the third time they'd dated before she'd arranged his seduction in a hotel room. He knew he'd become a person Kate disliked and he didn't care. Perhaps his recently acquired egotism needed to be kept in check. The truth was he'd planned for days to spend the night with Annabelle. Still, he hadn't encountered anything but enthusiasm from her. Annabelle was almost entirely predictable and her neediness for his love was no less than riveting to a man who, since Kate's betrayal, was almost entirely devoid of emotion.

He knew Kate would think less of him for having almost no feelings for Annabelle yet taking things further with her. Since Kate had abandoned him and married someone else, he felt she had no right to an opinion. He'd been out clubbing and fanging and going home with whomever, since he'd read Kate's marriage notice in the paper years ago.

Now Heath wanted to use and discard anything and everyone he encountered. Most of all, he wanted to make Kate and her family pay for their transgressions, for leaving him alone as a small child, for beating him and, in Kate's case, for choosing someone else. Annabelle had needed little inducement from Heath to re-form a romantic attachment towards him that had never existed on his part. They had spent the night together after just one bottle of wine. Admittedly, she'd done most of the drinking. He had to give her some credit as she stared at him with her big, tearful eyes. The look of love on her face was implacable.

That night was a distant memory to Heath and he'd purposely not phoned her the next day.

After he'd impressed her with the cheap thrill of an exclusive hotel and his undivided attention, that one night with Annabelle had ended in the usual disappointment as he woke up beside her the next day. He did not need reminding that she was not Kate. Annabelle's arm across his chest represented her neediness, not his. Heath had sat on the lounge chair opposite her after he'd dressed, resisting the urge to run off early and leave her lying there alone.

That morning, a plan had begun to form. He'd left a respectable length of time between the first meeting and trying to impress her at Claridges. This was nothing less than Annabelle was used to, given her spoilt upbringing. He smiled inwardly as he realized she and Kate had at least one thing in common.

She was connected to the only woman he'd ever loved and that connection would serve a higher purpose; revenge.

Heath tried not to dislike her as she sat opposite him in the restaurant. She was attractive enough, nothing like her sister-in-law which really should have been a point in Annabelle's favour. Kate, beautiful and goddess-like, was also disloyal - Heath would never forgive her. He found Annabelle emotionally needy and thus high-maintenance and even a little bit boring, but she also held the keys to The Grange, a property he wished to purchase.

Heath was surprised when Annabelle spluttered out in sobs her baby news. He had been careful and made sure he looked empathetic as he sipped his blood orange juice mixed with Magenta.

He'd learnt to control his desires to drain his lovers, especially the ones he liked and his specialist had warned him that there was a chance he could pro-create. If he did, his offspring would only have a small chance of inheriting his hybrid gene. A boy child would have a sixty percent chance of being a fully-fledged bloodsucker. A girl child would carry the gene but likely be human. Heath hoped for a girl. He'd never want a child to suffer the way he had. He had no idea how he would explain himself to Annabelle. He'd tried to tell her about his freakiness, but she refused to listen. When he was tempted to fang, her meek compliance repelled him, and he held back. She still held little appeal. To Heath, Annabelle was bloodless.

All she said was, 'I know you are different. Kate has warned me but I don't care.'

He knew it was his call - either way Annabelle would raise his child.

'Annabelle, stop crying, there is no need for that,' he said softly, feigning sympathy which Annabelle misinterpreted as empathy. (They should have been more careful. They'd been careful, or so he thought). He'd lately started to read the thoughts of people close to him. It was a habit he'd tried to control but as he tuned in to Annabelle all he could hear in her mind was, 'please offer…please do the right thing…'

Heath stared out the window, bored with the woes of human life. This news should have excited him, he was sure of it. Once, the prospect of creating a family would have been grounding, essential. But now, he just stared into the abyss of eternity, the cruelty of outliving those he raised and dared to love in return.

Heath viewed the river and its many bridges, the skyline along the houses of parliament and thought what a wonderful city to behold. The bloodsuckers who'd come before him had told many stories about Edwardian England. Evenings were filled with tales of beautiful women, dark cobbled lanes, ruby carpeted theatre halls and eager street vendors. His ancestors drank brandy seated around log fires during their cold, mansion nights. And here was the chance to add his lineage.

He realized he was in control and wasn't proud of the fact that he'd made Annabelle feel beholden, when all along he'd wanted something beyond what was obvious to her. Marrying Annabelle would make Kate feel what he felt. The situation was meant to be. He looked towards the boats and the line of the shore that carried cargo and supported both ancient buildings and high rises. He wondered how far one of those boats could carry him if he kidnapped Kate and forced her to stay away from her poisonous family and all that was familiar until she was his, and only his, forever more. He thought about the time he'd gone to meet her in the glass house and wished they'd never parted.

He paused before he spoke. In his fantasies, the only source of comfort to him was a reversal of betrayal.

'Here, dry your tears,' he said, handing Annabelle an unused handkerchief.

Annabelle pressed it under her eyes.

'I have a solution. Your child shall have a father, Annabelle. We'll get married. I brought you here today to tell you…well, to ask you to marry me anyway. I'm not suggesting for a minute that this hasn't surprised me, but we needn't let it derail our lives…'

Annabelle looked at him with a surprised expression on her face. She used an old-fashioned phrase, "You could have knocked me over with a feather," when she announced her intentions to Kate later that evening, just as Heath imagined she would. He only wished he could have seen Kate's face when Annabelle told Kate that Heath had asked her to marry him and that she'd said "yes". Kate had guessed Heath was up to something but she also knew there was nothing she could do. She was married to Edmund now, she was having his child.

Over breakfast a week later, Edmund raised the subject of Annabelle with his wife.

'I feel as if I have lost a sister,' Hunt said, as he read the finance news. 'But never mind, she will come to her senses, eventually - and when she does I shall not be so forgiving. I think I shall re-structure the family trusts, make it harder for him to get his hands on her property… '

'Annabelle is pregnant,' Kate said, her hand on her own expanding stomach.

Hunt put down his newspaper, but delivered the calm, rational words Kate had come to expect from him.

'Then I suppose it will be a while before we see her again.'

The wedding was a lavish affair. The impending nuptials were announced in the most conservative broadsheet newspapers and covered in all the glossy magazines. Kate attended, of course, in a pink silk dress, fashionable and ruched at the shoulder. It was a close family affair and Hunt had told Kate she must attend.

Kate couldn't describe how she felt, sitting in the reception as the young couple danced their first dance. They looked amazing together - Annabelle so blonde and pretty like the sun, Heath so dark and handsome, like night.

**Chapter Twenty-nine **

_**Glass House**_

In retrospect, he had tried to show enthusiasm for the marriage.

As they grew apart, Annabelle was unaware they'd never really been together, except as friends and briefly, lovers. If his wife had ever asked, he would have told her everything. Deep down, he knew the truth; Annabelle didn't want to know.

Work was always his excuse.

The office needed him - the businesses. The family fortune required overseeing now that Harrison had drunk himself into despair and lost most of the shares that had remained in his name. Harrison sold the rest to Heath's company for a third of what they were worth. Of this recent business deal, he was not ashamed. He knew Kate, whom he hadn't spoken to for months, would be angry at him for stooping to Harrison's level.

The adoption of Hinton had not brought the family any closer together and Heath made more excuses to stay out of the house. Heath's career was escalating and he was expanding the company overseas, preparing to leave London for Asia for three months.

'I'm asking you not to go,' Annabelle said. 'It's too soon with the baby.'

'Well Annabelle, you knew where this was going when you married me. I can't abandon my career; it's important.'

'For what? You've earned more money than we could ever use and you have mine. You've spent half your life trying to get back at Harrison, now you've succeeded. You own his house, his companies.'

'Co-own. Remember it's mortgaged.'

'The same thing, you will own it. And my brother, you won't even speak to Hunt.'

'It is an understatement to say we didn't get along at school…'

'But we are adults now, Heath; I just want you to forget…'

Annabelle put her hands on her husband's face. Normally her blood did not appeal to him overly, but he hadn't taken his vitamins and was low on plasma. He pushed her hand away, afraid the yearning to feed and munch on the cool blue vein in her wrist would repel her. If only he could share with her his longings, his issues, himself. Perhaps the marriage would have had a chance. But, let's face it, she wasn't Kate. He knew Annabelle would run from him when she discovered the truth. He was sure of it.

Annabelle, for her part, suspected Heath was not normal from the earliest days of their marriage. She thought he might need therapy but he brushed her away when she tried to talk to him about his mood swings, as she called them. He'd always been cold towards her, Annabelle realized in retrospect. She had thought Hinton and the baby would bring them together but after he'd satisfied himself that the foetus would be "normal" (going so far as to take her to a strange specialist in Harley Street when she seemed overly fond of lamb chops), Heath had distanced himself from her once again.

Every person was worthy of love. It seemed to Annabelle that Heath had received more from the marriage than she had. Annabelle only expected her husband to love her, yet he made her feel unworthy. Sometimes he looked at her as if she was air and Belle caught him looking at Kate's old photographs more than once. Annabelle didn't even want to think about her sister-in-law. She was sure it was their love that had wrecked her marriage. On other occasions she realised that Heath was the sort of man who would have found it hard to make any marriage work.

Belle regretted the loss of her only female friend. She missed being close to her sister-in-law. Months earlier, Kate had pleaded with Annabelle not to marry Heath and Annabelle hated to admit Kate was right.

'He only wants to hurt you…he wants to hurt me.'

'How can you say that, Kate? Why do you think you are the only person worthy of love?' Annabelle asked.

'It's not like that,' Kate had replied.

'Not like what?'

'Heath and I…we grew up together…I know him. He's not like other people, he's…different…' Annabelle misunderstood her intentions almost entirely.

'He still loves you…doesn't he?'

'I…I don't think Heath's capable of love anymore…he…uses women and he's not above using you for his own purposes,' Kate had warned her.

'What purposes? He's already got his own money. Yes, our family is wealthy but so is Heath…'

'It's not like that. He wants ownership, power. First it was Harrison, now it's Edmund… once he marries you, he controls you. He wants to hurt me…promised me he'd get me back, for marrying Edmund…'

'Why did you marry my brother, Kate? I've always wondered…'

'Because… I loved him.'

'Because you loved him or because you needed him? Heath wasn't there and my brother was! Well now I need someone Kate and you can't stop me from being with him…'

'I'm trying to warn you… he will make your life very difficult Annabelle.'

Annabelle had packed her suitcase.

'Promise me you'll give me a chance, Kate. Stay away from us until after the baby is born.'

'If that is what you wish, Annabelle, but you are making an enormous mistake. You barely know this person. Heath is not like you. He's strong but angry and he's vengeful. He'll take all of his frustrations out on you…'

'I don't care,' Annabelle raged for the first time in her life. 'I love him.'

Kate was not surprised and she wished her sister-in-law well but suddenly they were like strangers in the same room.

'You know what your words do Kate? They make me more anxious than ever to leave this house…tonight.'

Kate sat on the bed; she knew she had tried to reveal Heath's full nature to Annabelle but it had backfired. In fact, she'd made the situation worse. Kate had just alienated her only female friend.

'I cannot say I'm surprised,' Hunt said later. 'I spent hours trying to talk her out of the marriage last night, but there was nothing to be done.'

Edmund leaned in to kiss his wife on the cheek. Kate pulled away.

'Annabelle is very determined to make this mistake,' Kate said.

One night, after they were married, unable to contain himself as Annabelle kissed him, Heath sunk his fangs into her neck (the taste of her blood was expectedly bitter to him). He knew, even after she'd fled the house, they could never be friends again.

Annabelle, endlessly forgiving, wanted to try but he could never explain his true condition or his sense of unworthiness. There seemed little point, especially after Annabelle had finally lost it and screamed at him for being a freak. The next day, Annabelle fled to Cornwall and the family estate. It was just until the baby was born, or so she'd said.

He didn't blame Annabelle. He was glad, in some ways, to see the back of her. He was becoming exactly what he was born to be, an animal. Soon there would not be a shred of humanity left in him. He littered his wardrobe with discarded packets of plasma and when the maid found the empty packages she screamed. He wasn't proud of who he was or what he'd done but after his wife left, he reconnected with his specialist and had a new elixir designed for him, Magenta Plus. This liquid began to control the variant in his condition.

When Annabelle returned to Hareton Hall, she occupied a separate bedroom. Heath was surprised Annabelle didn't leave him permanently. His wife had reverted to type and wanted to keep up appearances at all costs. Heath could read her thoughts by the time she returned and he knew she would run off once the baby was born, perhaps return to The Grange, but never to him. He thought she would leave again after catching him gorging discarded plasma from a plastic bag after a particularly long day at the office. He'd married her for all the wrong reasons; to get back at Kate and Hunt; to possess her and her property. Who could blame her? He'd respect her more for leaving. Deep down, he should have been more careful, controlled himself more around her. He resolved not to be such a fang freak in the bedroom.

In truth, he was surprised Annabelle had stayed as long as she had. He knew she only tried for the sake of the baby and he wished he could be a better man for her, could love her even, but his heart always belonged to someone else.

After she left, everyone left. Heath stopped taking his medication and began to drink too much elixir again. This resulted in an imbalance in his system and disturbing side-effects. He craved blood…human blood but had learnt how not to kill, how to just take enough, how to control himself. This control came from the part of him that was still fully human.

Heath started to bring home girlfriends, randomly. This was an easy thing to do since he was so good-looking and hugely rich. None of them compared to Kate. Always, Heath was dissatisfied.

Greta was disgusted by his immoral behaviour and resigned, telling him to join a twelve step recovery program and get himself back on track with his medication. She sent his Harley Street specialist for a home visit the day she left and whispered that she would call to check on him in a few days to re-negotiate the details of her employment contract.

During that time, Heath detoxed and was put under careful observation until he finally got himself back on track. He did some soul searching. In truth, none of the Spencers appeared to make good husbands, yet he wasn't a Spencer, not really. He contemplated researching his bloodline but that would take him far from Kate and he didn't want to leave her again. Though they hadn't spoken for weeks, he knew she was close by at The Grange.

It had been six months since he'd seen Kate and Greta had told him news of her pregnancy. After Heath married, he'd sent her running back to her weak and irritating husband. At the time, he was glad to see Kate go. He'd watched her turn and run out of the arboretum that night. He thought she deserved his indifference and was glad to bestow it upon her.

Only he hadn't felt indifferent afterwards.

He could still feel her under his skin. With every breath, he thought of her, couldn't stop dreaming about her. He felt she must be feeling the same. His senses were more acute, even though he'd been denying them.

**Chapter Thirty**

**First Night**

At the Grange, Kate was finalizing new sketches for another play. There was talk of working on designs for the Art direction of a big American film that was being made over summer not far from Hampstead.

Kate wrote all her fears and longings in her journals, something she had enjoyed doing since her earliest memories were recorded. She placed the journals in a space at the back of her wardrobe.

Her own pregnancy gave her some comfort, although she couldn't help but feel somehow the child growing within her was an alien. Occasionally, she went walking across Hampstead Heath holding the tiny hand of Katarina, who had just begun to toddle. Her daughter gave her endless hours of joy.

As she leant down to pull her child's knitted hat over Katarina's lush, dark curls, Kate was struck by her resemblance to Heath. It was impossible for him not to know. Edmund did. He had told her he didn't care; that they should marry anyway and start a family of their own; that Heath had likely been killed or disappeared never to return. They'd been hunting hybrids back then. This was a few years before the Vampire Act had been passed giving hybrids the same rights as humans, theoretically.

Edmund Hunt had been a good, kind, loving husband and father. He doted on little Katarina who adored him. Yet, Kate was haunted by her decision.

Kate longed to go back in time, to the night she and Heath had run away and they had married as teenagers in love in the tiny church in Chelsea. They had spent barely one night together before the note was delivered that had revealed a possible connection, a lie that changed everything.

'To everlasting love,' Heath had toasted her in the tiny pub, 'and my beautiful wife. I love you Kate Spencer and I will love you forever.'

Kate smiled, knowing she felt the same, knowing that in that moment there was nothing she loved more than secret marriages and the man before her. The love of her dreams sat later on their hotel bed, with its new mattress and sheets. Heath's perfect chest revealed his hard body, forbidden beauty and immense yet dangerous perfection. Heath had nuzzled into her wrist as Kate wound her body around his. She was sure he was tempted to bite but he never did. It was almost as if they were the same person. That night, they lay together on the bed, the vial of elixir half-empty.

'It worked,' Kate said. 'And you stayed in control…sort of,' she smiled, rubbing her wrist where the nuzzle of Heath's lips had left a slight red mark. Heath felt human and invincible, sleepy for the first time in years. 'I love you,' Kate said.

They were simple words but Heath had waited a lifetime to hear them.

'There is nothing I can say to that, except, I love you more,' he said, kissing her again. Kate could not believe that was true.

They bathed and dressed for dinner, contemplating their imminent return to the world as husband and wife. Kate was pale at the prospect and began to look less like the honeymooning bride and more like a frightened school girl as she contemplated their departure from the hotel. Heath took his pills and drank some plasma outside on the balcony. Kate remembered the note that contained not a shred of truth. The words had been for Heath's eyes only.

Kate thought about the truth as she gathered wildflowers with Katarina. Harrison had always played hard and fast with his lies. But of course, the letter he'd written was the reason she and Heath had parted; the reason Kate had sought sanctuary on that skiing holiday; the reason she'd had time alone to imagine herself with Edmund. The tests were arranged and were conclusive. Harrison had lied. But the whole process took more than a month and in the meantime, Heath disappeared. She was told he had died, most likely from exposure and lack of blood.

_And there he lives_, Kate thought, as she glanced over at Hareton Hall from the safe distance of the Arboretum.

Inside The Hall, Heath sat listening to his telephone messages on that day.

He hadn't seen Kate's face for a long time. Greta occasionally took Hinton to the park to play with his cousin. Heath didn't know about this. Kate always asked after them.

When Hinton turned three, Harrison fled the Guest house, a crazy drunk. He had mostly left Hinton with Greta once Hinton's desire to bite had become almost uncontrollable. Hinton displayed many of the characteristics that Heath had. A mild form of Magenta sated his thirst. Neither Harrison nor Frances understood the child's condition and were happy when Greta agreed to keep him with her. After Frances disappeared in Paris, Harrison went mad. He drank all day and refused to hold down any kind of work.

Heath stepped in and offered to adopt Hinton along with the house and Harrison couldn't have cared less by then. Although the specialist assured Heath the Spencers were not even a distant genetic relation, Heath knew somehow, he and Frances had once been related. Heath felt closer to Hinton, who ate hungrily in the kitchen. Hinton was blissfully unaware of all that had become of his family. He gravitated towards Heath, a father and fellow bloodsucker. Heath hoped the world Hinton grew up in would be more accepting than the one he'd had to hide in, as he shared a piece of chicken with the child who gnawed hungrily with his first teeth and gave Heath a winning smile.

**Chapter Thirty-one **

_**Revelations**_

Once Kate heard about the trouble in Annabelle's marriage, Kate decided it was time to speak to Heath, alone.

Kate was rugged up in her usual riding gear and had the car keys in her hand, making a rattling noise which woke her sleeping husband. She'd woken up early and told Edmund that she was going for a walk.

'At six in the morning, darling?' he asked sleepily. 'Should you really be going out in your condition? The air is like ice outside.'

'Of course,' Kate said. 'I have the car. I intend to walk the easy path. It's my new regime,' she said, sarcastically. 'Besides, exercise is good for the baby. Now go back to sleep…darling,' she added as an afterthought.

Kate pulled on her overcoat and looked into the mirror. At eighteen, when Kate had married Edmund, she'd felt older than her years. Now she was barely twenty-one and she had never told Heath why she had married Edmund so quickly; never told Heath why the pictures hadn't been splashed all over the papers; why the marriage hadn't been announced. He probably guessed and didn't care. There were so many mistakes that had been made and more than enough time to put them right, even if somebody got hurt in the process. They were meant to be together and that was that. She had telephoned him, asked him to meet her.

When Heath arrived at the glass house, having pulled up in one of his sleek sports cars, Kate knew she had to gauge his behaviour.

She moved to touch him but he pulled away and turned his face. Kate wondered if he had already fed that morning on Magenta or… if his tastes had become more refined and… diverse. Kate would have offered her blood to him there and then if she'd felt it would fix the situation between them and not harm the baby.

'Why did you want to meet me here Kate?' Heath asked in a weary tone. Heath noticed her messed up hair.

'Look at you. You've just got out of Hunt's bed. I never thought I'd see the day…'

'Heath…he's my husband…If it makes you feel any better, we have separate bedrooms.'

Heath's eyes combed her face, her body, her round belly hidden under the coat. Kate must have thought he was really stupid.

'Why do you need to talk to me when you've got him?'

'I needed to see you again.'

Kate touched his hand, and all the emotions were like before. She could not deny this passion and Kate wondered if Heath felt the same.

If he did, he didn't show it.

'I'm asking you not to…hurt Annabelle. She's been a good sister-in-law to me, a good friend to us both.'

'Oh, this is rich, sticking up for the other woman. What do you call this then? I'm sure if she knew we were meeting in secret she'd be thrilled,' Heath added sarcastically. Then he moved towards Kate. At first, it seemed like he was going to kiss her. Instead, he was distracted by the baby's heart beat and placed his hands over his ears.

'Having a baby…makes it impossible for me to leave now. It does not mean I love you less.'

Heath looked at her, 'And you brought me here to tell me that? As if I didn't already know? How could you Kate? You should have waited for me. I just wanted proof that Harrison had lied, and then nothing would have kept me away from you.'

'I…I know,' Kate said, weeping.

He was so angry he moved to shove her, but thought better of it, though she didn't resist his touch or step back. Instead he moved in close, swayed almost as if he was going to kiss her. Kate moved towards him at the same time.

'Now, we meet as equals, Mrs Hunt,' Heath said. 'Now you get to be the jealous one.'

That was the problem. Heath had all but ignored her since the night after the dinner party. The closeness of her, the nearness of her almost touch, was enough to set him off. His mouth watered, his teeth sharpened. Kate stumbled and moved to sit down.

'A fine mess we have made of our lives,' she whispered. She looked at Heath and realized her love for him was like the air that surrounded them, ever-changing but eternal, always. Her love for Heath transcended time and space and even themselves. She couldn't believe it had been so fragile, that she had been foolish enough to believe it would survive betrayal. Now Heath was married to another and gone forever.

Kate moved to stand up but sat down again, quickly.

'Are you alright?' Heath asked, suddenly spooked.

'Yes, I'm…I'm just upset, that is all. Please, Heath, don't go, please come. Put your arms around me one last time. I…I would give up Hunt if only you'd ask me to.'

And it was then, that Heath realized he'd finally gotten to her.

Now was his chance.

'You must be kidding,' Heath said. 'Do you really think I'd want you now? About to give birth to another man's child…'

'I wish it were your child,' Kate said.

'Well, it isn't,' Heath said, 'and I don't want you,' he lied.

Kate withdrew her hand.

'Please don't be like that.'

'It was you, Kate, with all of your stupid airs and graces, the minute you were poisoned by the Hunts, you came to believe yourself one of them, better than the rest of us, better than me with my eternal…curse. I longed for immortality once but only to share it with you.

'Share it with me now…'

'You'd have to be joking. You're not thinking straight in your…condition. You are so selfish you can't even put your child first.'

'Not now…later, after the baby is born.'

'Forget it. No matter how miserable you are, you belong to him now…'

'Never.'

'And I have made another choice…'

'I don't believe you.'

'Oh, I could never lie to you and tell you I love Annabelle. I don't even like her, though I've tried hard enough. But hating you, Kate…is almost as good as loving you and how I have wished for this moment, to see you as you really are…empty and alone but for your selfish choices.'

'It was not selfish, Heath. I couldn't find you.'

'You should have looked harder.'

'I did. But I was lied to…Harrison convinced me you no longer lived.'

'Well, he was wrong and he's always plotted against us. You were foolish to believe him in the first place.' Heath said, the morning's gorge from the blood bank fresh in his veins. He felt empowered. There was strength in such a lack of desire.

'It was your fault too,' Kate said, 'for leaving me, for doubting us.'

Heath remained silent. 'Harrison swore we were…blood relations…'

Kate looked shocked.

'But it is not true. Here,' Heath said, he unfolded a paper from his pocket. 'There is no connection. I also spoke to my…mother. It appears my biological father disappeared one night after drinking… the blood of others. He has not been sighted since. Heath pulled out his original birth certificate, written in Spanish. The date was clear.

'I'm a year older than I thought.'

'Oh Heath, what have we done?'

'If I did wrong, we both did wrong and now you are paying for it. Revenge is sweet.'

'Really? Greta used to say revenge is a dish best served cold.'

'Well, she always had a cliché at the ready.'

Both the lovers were spent in their argument.

'Please…Heath… Don't do anything you will regret.'

'Like what? Like leaving Annabelle? No, Annabelle will go of her own accord just like all the women in this family. I'm surprised it has taken her this long to work out that I only married her to hurt you and get my hands on The Grange.'

'I don't believe that. Annabelle loves you. She won't go anywhere unless you force her to.'

'She's left me once already. You really think you can control all our lives Kate? I despise you for marrying Hunt. I despise you for not believing in me enough to wait.'

'I… never stopped believing in you. I never stopped loving you. I wanted to do what was best for… Katarina.'

'And yet you married another.'

'I was told you'd gone forever!'

'Mmm… a convenient excuse. How could you ever be with another man?' Heath spat.

'Like I said, he's my husband.'

'I was your husband.'

'I know, but we were so young, I thought you'd changed your mind, abandoned me.'

'Stop, stop crying. This is not the Kate I wish to see.'

'It is the one you created. I have never stopped loving you…will never stop loving you Heath,' Kate said as she stood up, 'but I think this argument is going nowhere, Edmund.'

'Ah yes, the wonderful Hunt.'

'Don't be jealous. He has never taken your place.'

'That's exactly what he has done,' Heath laughed bitterly.

'When I first saw you, Heath, I loved you. It is almost as if we are the one soul and that doesn't change, no matter what. After the baby is born I want to be with you, forever.'

Kate stood in the open doorway of the glass house as the wind began to howl and swept up her hair. 'I can see there is no point in continuing to discuss this until then.'

'You sound just like him.'

'And you have become so much worse, swindling Harrison out of his own fortune, marrying my sister-in-law to hurt me.'

'Your brother was a vicious drunk and a liar. He deserved it. Besides, it wasn't a difficult thing to accomplish and Annabelle knew what she was getting herself into.'

'And making his child your own.'

'Hinton needed a home after he was abandoned by his own father.'

'A home? You sent him to boarding school.'

'From where he shall return once he is educated.'

'Educated enough to run wild like you and I did? I could never bear to let my child be that far away from me. And as for Annabelle, I've seen the scars on her wrist where you bit her.'

'She asked me to. She thinks blood sucking is more of a kink and less of a need.'

Kate shook her head. 'I can see we're getting nowhere with this conversation.'

'Everything that went wrong Kate, we did to each other. If you had just waited…if you had just believed in me like you promised you would…we said we'd never abandon one another.'

'You abandoned me.'

'I never stopped loving you.'

'…Until now.'

'You married another.'

'So did you.'

Heath shook his head, 'To make you pay…'

'I must go.'

'Yes,' Heath said, 'your husband must miss you.'

'I see you are determined to stay with Annabelle and ruin all our lives.'

Heath raised an eyebrow angrily, 'She is my wife.'

'Just don't hurt her,' Kate said as she walked away. She did not wish to tell him the full truth about their child tonight. It had been a mistake to call him. Heath was left in the dark once again; his vow of revenge seemed hollow and pointless.

**Chapter Thirty-two**

_**Birth **_

Nights later, Kate woke in the dark. Her stomach grumbled as she listened to the rain lick the roof. It was two in the morning. Hunt was sleeping soundly, as Kate crept silently to the wardrobe and removed her long, winter coat, her woollen hat, scarf and gloves. Instead of slippers she slid on her waterproof boots as she prepared for the winter night after many months of clear weather. Kate could hardly breathe she felt so cooped up. She couldn't explain her need to get out of the house. Her mind was overworked. She was not thinking clearly. Kate wished she had told Heath about Katarina. She woke up, dreaming of Heath and thought if she didn't get a breath of fresh air there was no way she'd have the strength to deliver the child that kicked inside her. She knew Heath had rejected her, yet she was compelled to find him.

Kate grabbed the keys to her car then realized she probably shouldn't drive. Besides, her car was at the garage getting serviced. She knew Edmund's Range Rover would make a loud scraping noise coming out of the gravel driveway. Instead, Kate walked quietly downstairs, found the keys to the house in the kitchen and walked very quietly out the door. It was a good distance from the Grange yet she knew a shortcut across the heath towards Hareton Hall that she hadn't used in months. She needed to see Heath again; she would wait for him - forever, if she had to. Tell him it was a mistake, that they belonged side by side, that she never wished to be parted from him again.

Kate was not prepared for the cold air that slapped her face as she stepped into the night. She wasn't far from the beginning of the trail that led between the two houses and she was sure she could find it. Rain started to spit down and the irrational part of Kate did not think about the stupidity of walking in the dark, alone, in her condition.

The manicured garden formed a pattern - a maze that she remembered from childhood -and led the exact way across the heath towards Hareton Hall. The lone house was filled with secrets and lies. Kate was determined to find Heath, to talk to him about Katarina, to make him understand that she had made a stupid mistake. She knew this track, knew the way by dark and from memory.

Kate peered through the midnight air. She caught her breath for the first time in hours and pulled her overcoat tight around her. Kate knew she shouldn't do it, but she thought, if she could just get a glimpse of her old home, the place she now missed, the only place she really belonged to, everything would be all right. She'd had a bad dream, about herself, about Heath and the baby. She needed to know that Heath was alright, needed to tell him about Katarina and wanted to see him again. It had been almost a week since they'd talked. Kate walked on.

The baby stirred inside her and the rain spat down suddenly but softly from the sky. Kate kept going as crystal tears, like the ones from her childhood, began to roll down her cheeks. She put one foot in front of the other, driven. The wind howled, the night closed in on her. She stumbled and hit her head on the rocks. Kate was as far from The Grange as she was close to The Hall. The pain was unbearable as she screamed into the dark.

Hunt woke, restless in the night.

'Kate,' he called.

He wondered which part of the house his beautiful, thankless wife had roamed off to. He saw that her cream dressing gown lay crumpled on a chair and something about the emptiness of the room, the silence in the hallway, bothered him. Hunt got out of bed, put on his slippers in his ordered way and walked downstairs to the kitchen.

'Kate,' he called again, 'Kate.'

In response, there was howling wind and an open window. He walked over to pull it down and latch it shut as the rain fell and the wind seemed to gather momentum. Then he noticed his keys were missing, which meant his wife had gone out driving (a ridiculous notion given that she could barely fit behind the wheel) or walking in the rain. Hunt was beside himself with worry and looked at the telephone. He knew where she had gone just as surely as if she had told him herself. Although the last thing he wanted was to talk to his sister, he picked up the receiver and dialled Hareton Hall.

Heath never expected a call in the middle of the night so he hadn't bothered to take the telephone off the hook. He couldn't believe someone would bother to ring so he tried to ignore the noise until, restless and unable to sleep himself, he picked up the telephone.

'Yes,' he said, sleepily and irritated. Annabelle was asleep at the other end of the hall but woke when she heard raised voices. Belle wandered into the room, wrapped in a blanket.

Heath had spoken only a few sentences before he handed the phone to Annabelle and left the room. He dragged on his boots, riding britches and a long coat. He'd had barely any time to dress because he knew, as surely as if Hunt had told him, where Kate was.

'Is it Kate? What's wrong?'

'She's gone missing. Your brother said she'd been acting strange. She's been cooped up. He's worried she was coming here and something's happened…here, you talk to him…'

'Shouldn't you ring the police?'

'It will be hours before they do anything, but yes, you do that. I'm going out, I think I know where she might have gone - it will be quicker.'

It was moments later that Annabelle realised Heath had picked all of this information up from one sentence. If Annabelle hadn't known better she would have said her husband was a mind reader. Annabelle looked both put out and worried as she walked over to the telephone.

Heath could read Hunt's mind but he'd also dreamt about her. He dreamt about Kate every night.

In his dream they were running along Hampstead Heath together. They were children, again. It was summer. They were bare footed and laughing as the sun shone. Heath only needed a hat and sunglasses. His dream became a nightmare as the sky darkened and the rain came down and Kate, older, turned to him with rain on her face and said, 'Remember…when I'm missing to look harder. I'll be there… I love you…I'll always love you. When you find me we'll be together…forever.'

Then he must have woken and fallen asleep again and in the next dream he was lying in Kate's old room with all her photographs on the dressing table where she'd left them, trying to sleep but constantly woken up by a tap at the window. Rain poured down and the rattle of her tiny fingers became harder and louder until the glass shattered and a voice, Kate's voice snarled, 'Let me in, let me in!' Her neck was red with blood, her skin white as snow. Venom-filled fangs were bared as she hissed…_I've been away for eighteen years_…'

Heath had woken and gone to touch the small hand of his beloved but just as her icy fingertips moved on the broken glass of the window pane, cut and bloody, she disappeared.

Rain poured down as Heath walked, ran, and then merged speedily through the park. The meadow was becoming an ocean of water and mud.

'Kate! Katherine!' Heath yelled, shining a torch into the mist. 'Katherine!' He merged faster then ran towards the glass house. A bundle of shawl, overcoat, boots and wet hair lay waiting for him, shivering in the shelter. There was a gash on her forehead. Heath walked to her and put his arms around her, holding her in an embrace that locked them together like one person.

'Kate, my darling Kate, what have you done? No one knew where you were. You shouldn't have gone out on a night like tonight…'

Kate looked pale and her face was wet from the rain and cold which was perhaps even worse. He knew he had to normalize her body temperature and although he was getting colder by the day, his coat would warm her. He bundled her up inside it.

'I'm taking you to the car, Kate. I parked it not far from here. I knew where you would be.'

Kate stumbled to her feet as Heath helped her. 'You wouldn't speak to me, Heath. You stopped talking to me…'

'I was desperate. I tried to forget you.'

'I know. We've both made mistakes…'

'I should never have left you. It's all my fault…'

'No, it's mine,' Kate said, half delirious. 'Oh Heath, I came back to you…' She put her arms around his neck. He leant in and whispered, 'I never stopped loving you'. Her voice was fading. Then she curled up in pain and cried. Heath scooped her up and lifted her from the ground. Normally, carrying a heavily pregnant woman would be difficult but Kate was surprisingly light.

'We have to get you home, get you warm,' Heath said.

'I'm…I'm sorry. Forgive me for what I did. I made a mistake, should never have married Hunt…but Katarina…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'I know, you're delirious.' He placed his hand on her brow, worried that her skin was burning. 'None of that matters now…'

'It is…as if we are the same person…I cannot exist without my love…I cannot exist without you…'

'Nor I you,' Heath whispered but it wasn't clear if Kate could hear him. He knew he had to get her to a doctor, quickly.

Heath bundled her into the car and rang emergency.

'Kate, you're not thinking straight. Try to stay awake. We're almost…there,' Heath looked over, and touched her forehead which was still warm but Kate's eyes were closed, she was slumped into the seat belt and her breath was laboured.

**Chapter Thirty-three**

_**Reborn **_

Heath had stayed with Kate in her room and refused to be moved until Hunt barged in and demanded to see his wife. Heath was asked to leave. He reluctantly agreed to wait in the hall after he was assured by the nurses that Kate would live through the night and the child would be safe.

At six in the morning he was told the child had been born and both mother and baby were sleeping. Relieved, Heath sighed. Hunt walked out of the room and said, 'She wanted to see you. They say she will be alright…she's sleeping now. I have a son.'

Afterwards, when he had assured himself Kate was resting peacefully, Heath went home, and fell asleep on the couch as the sun came up. He was wrapped in Kate's old blanket. Greta pulled the drawing room curtains shut, shielding him from the harsh light that made his pale skin sizzle.

Greta woke Heath from a slumber he never thought he'd fall into, almost as if he were drugged from lack of sleep. Greta had her coat wrapped around her. Her face was downcast yet welcoming. Heath's mind was a sea of nothingness. Morning rose like a cloud as the faintest trickle of sun shone through the imminent afternoon storm that would lead to yet another wild night.

Heath rubbed his eyes.

'How is she?'

'The baby, the boy, is well and healthy. They have named him Edmund after his father. Annabelle has gone to help her brother with the baby…'

'I wasn't asking about the child.' Heath said wearily.

'I know you weren't. Kate is weak. She asked to be transferred home, she asked for you.'

Heath pulled on his sweater and drove with Greta back to The Grange. He'd never had any desire to come here again, to the house with perfectly manicured gardens. Heath had always preferred the wild, unkempt beauty of Hareton Hall. The Grange held no secrets, until now.

Hunt was standing at the door.

'Oh,' he said, 'it's you. She's been asking for you, they say there is nothing I can do except let her rest. She lost a lot of blood but she insisted on coming home. There is a medical team with her…'

Heath knew she hadn't meant her home, here, at The Grange. He knew she'd meant her childhood home, Hareton Hall.

In Hunt's arms lay a sleeping baby with fair hair, like Edmund's. Heath brushed past Hunt and the baby and bounded up the stairs, two at a time.

Kate lay on the bed covered in a pale duvet. Her pain was dulled by the drip in her arm. Kate smiled when she saw Heath.

'Oh Heath, you've come back to me,' she whispered as he leant over her.

Kate pulled him into her, his warm, strong body giving her the strength to speak.

'I wanted to see you one last time…'

'Quiet Kate…you need to rest.'

'Plenty of time for that,' she whispered. 'I wanted to say how much…I loved you…love you still and that I have paid for my mistake…'

'Quiet Kate, it is I who has paid also…for loving you…'

'No…no…you don't understand,' Kate leant in close to him '…the baby is your child. I've named her Katarina. Please…please don't take her from Hunt. I know he will be a…good father, but I wanted you to know the truth before I…so you can always keep a close…eye on her… my last wish is for Hunt to raise her Heath…because…'

'Hush,' Heath said, 'You're delusional. I know…all that is past.'

Heath tried to hide his anger.

Kate continued, 'I know how…ambitious you are… there would be no place for a child in the world you seek…and because I know it will be hard for you to raise her, reminding you of me. Hunt will love her… as if she is his own.'

Heath pushed his face into Kate's cheek.

'No Kate, you are talking madness. Don't leave me…don't leave us…'

'I can't…stay,' she swallowed. 'I'm so tired…no choice…' A tear dropped down Heath's face and onto her lips, paler than chalk. 'I want you to know, there was no one in this world I loved more than you and I will love you beyond this earth.'

'Don't go…' Heath whispered, 'Fight…'

'I dreamt, when I was under the anaesthetic, when they took the baby…I dreamt that I didn't go to Heaven, Heath…'

'Stop talking this way, Kate.'

'I dreamt that I stayed with you…forever…here at The Hall…'

'You're at The Grange, Kate.'

Kate continued, deliriously. 'I dreamt that I haunted you…and we went to the heath every day and lay in the sun and it didn't hurt us… we rode our horses…and had picnics and…raised Katarina…and it was as it always should have been. I never cared about…my career or travel or any of those things you enjoyed…I only ever wanted to be loved by you…to love…you. We are the same person you and I. We were never meant to be parted.'

'No,' Heath said, 'Kate, Kate,' he whispered '… I love you. I cannot live without you…'

'Then don't…' Kate whispered. 'Turn me…make me like you. I know you can do it…'

Heath held her to him gently, trying to will the life back into her aching, bruised body but her breath was fading. There was blood on the sheets when she coughed. When her breathing stopped the medical staff wrestled Kate from Heath and started administering every possible remedy to her lifeless body until there was nothing further to be done.

Kate, in her breathless whisper, asked everyone to leave; she only wanted Heath.

Later, Heath let out a piercing scream as he stormed past Greta, who held the quiet baby boy, in the drawing room. The infant was unaware of the tragedy and commotion that was the post-script to his birth.

**Chapter Thirty-four**

_**Transition **_

In the dark, Kate had whispered, 'Heath, you have come back to me.'

He lifted his head, contemplating her neck, only for a second.

Kate stirred as he leant in to whisper, 'Don't leave me. I cannot live without you, come back to me, come back to me. I never stopped loving you.'

Heath pulled her arm towards him and rested his head in the crook of her shoulder.

'Nor I you, I just wanted to make you suffer. I'm sorry Kate. Stay with me, don't leave. I cannot be without you…'

'You don't have to,' she whispered. 'If it's not too late, turn me into you, even as a ghost, let me haunt you, drive you mad.'

'Your transition may take decades. Changing you will change me. Neither of us will ever be the same.'

'I don't care.'

He had been warned by Greta that she had only minutes left. It seemed like seconds. The doctors had done all they could.

Heath barely paused before he lifted her towards him, plunging his teeth into her wrist, then her neck. The taste of her blood was honey and nectar to him but his tears were bitter. Without her, he felt nothing. With her by his side, they were invincible. Kate shuddered and closed her eyes.

She did not stir. Moments passed. He could hear the doctors discuss how many more seconds they should be left alone. He'd been inside Kate's room for less than three.

Heath turned and looked at the blackened sky. It reminded him of their shared childhoods. He resolved to take her, drag her out of the window if he had to, but physically, her recovery was quick. Her wounds began to heal, almost immediately, but the venom of a hybrid was not as strong in transition. Heath felt weaker. He wasn't sure this would save her.

Kate opened her eyes, yet her skin remained white, almost translucent. The fever, hot, began to cool. Her fingers responded to his touch as he lifted her from the bed to see the view from the window, the view in the night across Hampstead Heath and towards Hareton Hall, where she grew up.

'Heath,' she said, 'there is no man on earth I love more than I love you…' Then she shut her eyes. Kate's body lay mute and lifeless in his arms and Heath let out a howl in the dark that made the staff and Edmund come rushing into the room.

'And that is how the story went…' Greta said, 'A sad story, with no happy ending.'

Greta looked around her as she took the keys from the kitchen fruit bowl, freshly filled with blood oranges. The older woman's eyes filled with tears.

'Katarina, your mother would have been glad that you came here, to discover more about her, but now I think you should leave and think twice about coming back…You see, when we burst into the room that day… her body was lifeless. Then, they took her from him and she was buried far beneath the ground. There is no coming back from that. But people say… no body exists where she was laid to rest. Heath was raving on about immortality for days after but he was talking to a ghost.

I tried to placate him, but he was inconsolable. She'd whispered something in his ear before she passed; something to drive him mad. He bared his teeth and hissed at me when I found him lying beside the place she was buried and to my shame… I ran. I always knew that he was different. I thought it made him special, but that night… he was beyond help. I only imagine what he may have done to bring her back…at least, partly.'

The wind blew a gale outside. The night closed in on them.

'There are ghosts here,' Greta said. 'And more than that, besides… You don't want to make the same mistakes your parents did…'

**Chapter Thirty-five**

_**Family**_

Katarina and Hinton were seated in the Hidden Garden.

'I've read the file, Hinton. Of course, I can't pretend I'm not…surprised but it doesn't change you. Not really. It really doesn't matter to me.'

Hinton looked surprised and hugely relieved.

'I… I've drawn you something. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you. Do you…think of me?'

'Do I think of you? Always.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning I accept you for who you are,' Katarina said, as she ate the lunch she'd brought. She and Hinton, both dressed in long, dark coats (Katarina wore a red beret and gloves covering the expensive bracelet her father had given her for her birthday). They'd met here for lunch to celebrate Hinton's win – with the help of a perfectly worded essay attached to his entry.

'Finally I can spell, read and write almost perfectly, thanks to you Katarina. Although I have to admit, it still takes extra effort to translate some words.'

'I am so proud of you, Hinton. What words are still difficult?'

'I love you.'

Katarina smiled.

Hinton continued, 'they are simple words but hard for me to say.'

'I love you too,' Katarina replied.

Hinton could not contain his smile.

'I have been thinking of the future. The truth is, Katarina, I was never very interested in school. I preferred the horses and my Art and was never very big on study, nor was Heath. We were both too wrapped up in our own little worlds; Heath and his ghost, me and my cravings. Well, we shared the cravings. Perhaps Linus is the one you should congratulate. He just got accepted into Cambridge.'

'Wow. That's amazing,' Katarina said. 'I have to say I'm kind of surprised. He's so into his weekend dance parties. I didn't realize he ever studied. I'm still waiting to hear about Art College.'

'Well, I've been thinking, wondering. I'm planning to go travelling this summer. I was going to start in Italy, and then maybe Greece…The scholarship gives me enough money for two if I travel second class. I was hoping you might come with…'

'Yes,' Katarina said. She was barely eighteen but she knew perfect when she saw it (or perfect for her) and the love she felt for Hinton was real and present. She didn't care what her father thought of the Spencers and she had little memory of her mother apart from the ghostly young girl on the roof that day. The thought saddened Katarina so much she put the image out of her mind and convinced herself the moment could never be replicated.

She'd demanded an explanation from Heath the next time they spoke but he'd just dismissed her sighting and said, 'I warned you not to go up there…'

'Perhaps some things are….inexplicable,' was all Kate could think. The girl had looked so… real, so inexplicably like her. Katarina had barely seen the pyjama-clad intruder's face, but she remembered her clear blue eyes, flashing in the dark, a ghost, a vision, a pretty little vampire.

Katarina understood that somewhere, way back in time, near the place she and Hinton now walked, towards the glass house on Hampstead Heath, her mother had once met Hinton's father, a meeting that created this new moment for her now.

In her mother's antique locket, which she always wore (it had been passed down through generations of Spencer women), Kate had placed a photograph of her mother, and herself; together. The locket, she was sure, kept her safe. Katarina looked over at the handsome young man next to her. It was hard to believe, eight weeks ago, they had barely spoken. Now, she couldn't imagine being without him as he took her hand and they walked across the frosty mist of the Heath.

The truth was in the final pages of the journal. That was why Linus had given it to her to read; she knew that now. The words contained strange truths but necessary ones. Her father was not her biological father. This was something she had guessed from the early chapters of the journal. To discover her heritage was a shock, to discover she had a half-brother in Linus, was revelatory. Katarina also had a younger brother but they had been in different years at separate schools and had conflicting interests. Katarina hoped they would become closer when they were both adults.

She thought of the last time she had spoken to Heath. She was alone on the meadow, angry and tear-stained when she went to him. Heath had had the strangest feeling he was not alone riding his horse that day. He'd lately, in his thirties, begun to hear the thoughts of every human being he came into contact with, something he found disturbing. Once it had only happened when he listened closely. Recently his specialist had warned him about it, warned him that he'd be fully immortal if he lived past thirty, free to roam the heath forever if he wanted to, free to turn himself to ash in the sun if he did not. His image would not be betrayed in mirrors or print. After twenty-six, he'd ceased to exist in photographs entirely.

Heath heard her angry thoughts before he saw his daughter again that day and was not surprised to see her standing before him when he turned. Katarina wore the same long coat as her mother had worn, twenty years ago. Edmund must have kept it with Kate's things. He owed her an explanation. Before she could speak, he apologized.

'Here,' he said, handing her his waterproof jacket. 'The rain is coming down and it will protect you from the storm.'

They rode together to the glass house in silence. When she asked him a question, instead of replying in words, he vanished in mist. Katarina wasn't sure if she would ever see him again.

Months passed. There were so many questions and so few answers that Katarina had stopped asking for them. Her own father had died before she had ever challenged him on the matters of her parentage. Edmund had been a good father to her and she had loved him and mourned his loss and that was all that mattered. Katarina had inherited The Grange.

Heath had not once visited them but Linus came around often for dinner. The three young people had wild parties in the drawing room that were the talk of the borough and many friends from Italy and Europe came to visit. It was a world of lightness and socializing that none of them - Linus, Hinton or Katarina - ever experienced during their solitary childhoods. Heath had become more and more reclusive and barely spoke to his own son, let alone Hinton, when they moved out of Hareton Hall. By then, Heath had stopped going to work, repairing the now crumbling mansion, and never appeared at his own pub for dinner like he used to.

**Chapter Thirty-six**

_**Birthday Party **_

Almost twenty years had passed since the night she was born, and Heath remembered it was Katarina's birthday. He'd had the gift wrapped. A gold necklace with diamonds tastefully worked into swans on the pendant. A fine piece of jewellery, new, not from the family crypt, Heath mused. He also had another gift, the deeds to Hareton Hall, made out to Linus, Katarina and Hinton. He placed inside the envelope the gift of a round the world plane ticket, and access to the shares he had set aside for her since she was born. It was the least he could do, with all his money. He knew it would never be enough to make up for the neglect she'd suffered from him. The gift was merely a gesture and he expected nothing in return. Her desire to be friendly surprised him, given that there were so many unanswered questions about their family.

Katarina was surprised that Heath remembered her birthday since he had ignored every other one and had refused an invitation to the party that evening. Instead, he had driven over to The Grange to see her. He explained he didn't "do" parties anymore, especially ones with a Great Gatsby theme. Instead, he asked her to go walking with him across Hampstead Heath. Katarina smiled and said, 'I'll get my coat.'

They walked in tandem across the meadow in the mild winter light.

"I need to get some more decorations for tonight in Hampstead High Street,' Katarina said, making small talk. 'Linus will be there, you know. And Hinton would love to see you again. You never replied to my invitation, so I just assumed you…forgot.'

'Do you honestly think I could forget the day you were born?'

'No,' Katarina said, 'I suppose not.'

'What was she like, my mother? People say you were both… inseparable. They talk of a ghostly teenaged girl…like the girl I saw in the rafters that day. Tell me what she was like…'

'Well, at first I thought she was nothing like you, but I have changed my mind. You share the same curiosity about things you should not… and there is a determination in your manner that is similar.'

Heath looked down at his feet.

Katarina could hardly believe that this stranger was actually her father. After discovering her mother's old journals she had always suspected there was a story she was never allowed to know. She did not understood her need to reach out to this strange, alone man, who hadn't really shown her any love. Only her mother's journals filled in the blanks, shocking though they were to her. Deep down, there had always been something missing from her family history, something that she'd always suspected. Now she knew there was a vampire in the bloodline. She wanted to go far away from here, at least for a while.

'Your eyes are the same,' Heath said, reaching out to Katarina. He touched her hair when she stood in front of him, overlooking the meadow. Katarina could not feel or sense the touch. The man's fingers were like the air.

'And you look, almost identical - so similar that it was hard for me, at first.'

Then she understood, even slightly, that her mother had been right to let Hunt raise her. Her real father knew nothing about selflessness and love, or did he? He seemed to feel he owed her an explanation, however, and she was interested to hear it.

Heath admitted he'd always known she was his.

'I used to check on you from time to time. It was the reason I never left The Hall. Your mother thought Hunt should raise you and I did not object. I thought raising you in a house full of memories of your mother would not be in your best interests. Your mother and I were meant to be together, always…and I have never truly loved another…'

'I know,' Kate said.

'Then you know, everything?' he asked.

'I read her journals. I know what she wrote in them. It made me understand her…and you, more. But I don't love you. I don't think I even like you. I have forgiven you. That is all.'

'I understand,' Heath said. 'I owed you an explanation…but you found it yourself. I thought I was not fit to be your father…with the boys, I barely had a choice. It was…perhaps wrong of me not to claim you. It was Kate's wish that you be raised at The Grange. I think she thought it was less…haunted than Hareton Hall.'

Heath touched his daughter's cheek and walked on. He wandered further ahead of Katarina, ending the brief moment of rare and unexpected closeness between them.

He added as an afterthought, 'Your mother would be very proud to see you as you are.'

Heath moved quickly and deliberately. Katarina was left standing alone in silence once again.

**Chapter Thirty-seven**

_**Eternal**_

The Grange was decorated like something out of the 1920s. Light filled the room. It was surprising to Katarina that she felt so happy. Hinton had not expected her acceptance. Together they worked.

Though she could only recall the length of her mother's hair, her large, pretty eyes and the warmth of her touch – barely – Kate's writing brought her back to Katarina. She could not, of course, detail her transformation into the girl in the attic that day and Katarina resolved that the more fantastical elements of her visit to The Hall might have been a terrible dream or vision.

Katarina had each of the journals stored in a locked drawer of her desk. They represented a year of Kate's life on this earth, and Katarina had read all of them. The words began in large, childish letters, written in an unsophisticated way. Kate had skipped forward to the good parts, and that was how she knew that Heath was her father, although she never thought of him as that. Not yet. Not ever. They were how she had learnt of the existence of hybrids and humans and vampires and bloodsucking and night terrors. It was where she began to believe in the secrets of the impossible.

The day in the mist, the last time Katarina had seen him, had been the day he started to disappear. Heath had begun to move faster, some say at the speed of light. His powers were so diverse now. He thought they might have brought him happiness but eternity without the one he loved was…worthless. He waited for her.

It was not meant to be that way. He'd been waiting for a long time. But a vampire turned by a hybrid is the longest hibernation of all. Twenty years, he'd been told. And even then, she'd need another eight to reach maturity (girl hybrids aged until twenty-eight when they sometimes attained immortality). It was a risk. There was a chance.

For twenty years the teenage girl had hidden and grown, showing herself only in the early dawn of first light. She could not speak to him or any other person, let alone touch them. Recently, she began to attain human form, as she had been the day she saw Katarina.

For the past month, Kate had come to him in the night, older, not translucent anymore, still talkative, like a child. Her skin had transformed from see through to pale. She no longer took the form of a ghost.

Heath was preparing their first moments together. Their first trip to Italy, where he intended to take her, was to coincide with Kate's twenty-first birthday as a hybrid. He'd been told it was different for women. She'd take longer to emerge.

Tomorrow would be the day. Tomorrow eternity began.

Kate had writhed in pain for months in her attic space, hidden in corners, curled up in blankets. Heath had wandered the heath in the evening to spare himself the pain of her suffering. No one else could hear or see her and he couldn't help her, could not even touch her. He was sure she must regret her choice but when her memory returned, from the wild dark spirit she had become, she reminded him constantly, how much she loved him. It was the pain of seeing Katarina for the first time that rendered her silent. Unable to speak to her grown child, or touch her, she'd disappeared for a long time into the dark. No one could ever find her when they went looking, not even Heath. Kate languished in a ghostly form, pined to hold her daughter, longed to take human shape. It was no use.

Tomorrow, however, they would be free to roam together. Heath would give up his human form for now and they would no longer be seen by the rest of the world, at least until her transition was complete. One day hybrids and vampires would be accepted by the human race but that day had not yet arrived and it would not be safe for them to reveal themselves. Those were the rules. Being hybrid, Heath could only turn one human and that human, being part vampire, had had to wait two decades for restoration. Kate's form would be human, her body hybrid, with all the term implied. Neither of them would ever look older than their mid-twenties. Heath would be there to help her final transition, to encourage her, to love her.

He had been travelling, on a tour of his European offices as she had languished in hibernation in The Hall. Over the years she looked on in agony as the children grew. They were her greatest joy. On occasion she visited Katarina at night, resting her face on the child's cheek, mindful she could never actually touch her. Eventually, she hoped they would discover an elixir; that instead of vanishing together, (the price Heath would pay for her complete transformation), they would be revealed simultaneously.

Heath had told no one he was winding up the companies in America and selling most of his property. It took many weeks. When he returned to London he only left the house to go riding on his favourite horse and sometimes he went for long walks across Hampstead, through the park, and back again. Kate was transforming. Her image appeared to him more than briefly, for moments, and in daylight, not just dreams. He'd become more and more silent to the point where even Greta, who had long ago realized that Heath was not like other men, had taken to worrying constantly about him.

He would miss Greta and the children, who were now grown but they would not miss him. He knew it.

He'd stopped pestering the boys about study or work, stopped worrying about the future of his companies (they would cease to exist soon enough and the cash signed over to Katarina, Linus and Hinton). Heath had long ago stopped asking about any of his old rivals and acquaintances, stopped being interested in the world around him.

That night, before the morning of change, when Hinton, Linus and Katarina came to see him, he was congratulatory but distant. Linus seemed more terse than usual and Katarina and Hinton were blissful in each other's company. The general malaise which Heath had embraced now seemed to affect all areas of his life. He had long since ceased trying to control the younger generation around him. He even congratulated Linus on his new start at University, he told him he was 'extremely proud of him, whatever he chose to do but that "enjoying life" was just as important as a formal education.'

It was all very out of character, according to Greta, who left early after the party that night. Heath had relented and made a brief appearance after Katarina left another invitation at The Hall. Hinton insisted on kissing her goodbye on the cheek and hugged her. His body was cool, his breath light. He assured her he was feeling perfectly alright.

The next morning, Greta noticed Heath's bed had not been slept in and he'd lost weight, so much weight that suits hung off him, but he'd stopped wearing them, anyway. Greta had long since stopped suggesting he take anti-depressants. Heath just laughed and told her he didn't need her help or anyone else's.

Something strange happened in the silence and emptiness of Hareton Hall when he returned. These days, it wasn't just when he slept. The attic was inhabited by a young girl, there was no question. Greta invaded the attic one day and found packets of lollies, uneaten crisps, shoes, socks, dresses, ancient dolls and ribbons. Then there were the strange, empty vials of elixir which looked like…blood.

The first time Kate came to him in human form, he'd been in the drawing room attending to the paperwork on his latest company acquisition. He looked up to see some birds flying beyond where Hareton Hall was situated. They looked so free, so wild.

It was three in the afternoon and a clear day. No one was in the house, on the floor where the study was, yet all his pens and papers had been sorted into neat piles when he walked back to his desk.

It had been eighteen human years since he'd seen her. He sat on his favourite chair and felt a reach on his shoulder, like a whisper, the touch of her hands was so light, so transient.

'Kate.'

'Heath.'

'I knew you'd come back to me,' he said.

He held her hand for a moment and looked at her perfect face until she was gone.

From that moment, he searched for her with some hope of finding her transitioned and whole. He was reminded of the night he begged her as she lay lifeless on her bed, 'Come back to me, Kate. Haunt me, drive me mad…'

'Only if you turn me, change me…make me yours forever.' Somehow the timing was wrong. Somehow they'd met in the middle and once again, they'd been kept apart, made to wait. Both of them like ghosts, only one of them real.

That day, she must have heard him.

He tried to put the image of her from his mind, at first, because it interfered with work, with his day. For many years, she only visited at night in what he tried to believe were his dreams.

_When Hinton came to stay, permanently, after Harrison had drunk himself stupid and wished to stay in the cottage, I insisted Hinton should stay in the main house and Heath should hire more help (he did, without question or interest)._ _Heath always seemed distracted and secretive, for a reason,_ Greta wrote in the journals I read that night, after my final visit to Hareton Hall. _I had as soft a spot for Hareton as I had for Heath, _she wrote._ Although I know I helped to raise a wolfish man, you must understand how difficult life had been for him and how his ambition had been fuelled by his loss and his early life and his…condition. Both Heath and Kate, both young and headstrong, helped to create the adult paths their lives had taken, but they deserved better. They deserved to be together, it is just a shame they managed to hurt so many people in the process. Although Annabelle remarried and found happiness at last - becoming the manager of her own gallery…' _Greta added as an afterthought.

Heath wandered up the stairs that final night, with a copy of Kate's favourite novel, _Jane Eyre, _in his hands. He placed it by the bed next to her photograph. He'd removed the photograph when Annabelle had lived with him here, but it hadn't helped him forget Kate. He'd read _Jane Eyre_ when he was younger, at Kate's insistence, unable to see the parallels to their own isolated existence and the seeking of great love.

**Chapter Thirty-eight**

_**Happiness**_

Katarina had been meeting Hinton for months by the time Heath had made plans to sign the freehold title of his estate over to them. It was a regular pattern.They met at a studio space, rented out by the Art College, in Soho.

Katarina loved getting out of North London. She was used to being in central London but she particularly loved the winding cobbled streets of Soho and the West End lights. She'd dressed up for the occasion, knowing that she and Hinton had a special dinner planned to celebrate the one year anniversary of their first meeting.

Instead of going to Hampstead, they decided on a tiny restaurant here, beside the studio space. Hinton had something he wanted to show her that did not include a pen and paper.

In return, Katarina had a gift she had made to give him.

They kissed as lovers do, warm and close. It was as if they had always been like this. Although it had taken them many months to feel comfortable in each other's company, they now trusted each other completely. Hinton took Katarina's hand as they went to the studio together, tripping through crowds and Christmas lights of a frosty London winter.

'Quick, Katarina, I want to show you something.'

'Yes Hinton, I have something important to tell you also, something I've been saving for today.'

Hinton looked at her in the street, as they stood still together as the crowds bustled around them. Her face shone with beauty, hope and expectation.

Hinton had dreaded this moment - the moment he knew in his heart would eventually arrive. Everyone he had been close to, even momentarily, had abandoned him. First his own parents, whom he'd never met, then his adopted parents; even his adopted uncle had shown little interest in him beyond teaching him to fight back and be sullen and not trust another living soul. But he trusted this girl and she sensed his desperation when she said she had something important to tell him. Hinton's face was downcast, he knew it was irrational. They'd never had an argument since the day they'd met but still the thought remained that she might be breaking up with him. After all, he needed plasma every nine hours to exist.

'I…I knew you would…tire of me…you are such an amazing person but…'

'Oh no, Hinton, you misunderstand…Hinton …I …love you. I think I've loved you since we both sounded out the word "incandescent" …you are…the most original, amazing…'

He put his finger on her mouth, happy that the night had not been ruined, and the surprise was still before them.

'Before you say anything else, you need to see this…'

They had reached the studio, a small building, one floor up on a tiny side street in Soho.

Hinton opened the door slowly.

He wrapped his tie across her eyes.

'Wait,' he said.

'Hinton, what are you up to?'

'I'm showing you something I've been working on over the autumn. It's something special…it's my future.'

Kate stood still in the centre of the room, an empty room with tall ceilings apart from the painting on the easel in the middle.

'Open your eyes.'

Katarina stood in her coat, flicks of snow upon her shoulders and glanced at the tall, handsome boy with the kind eyes, then glanced back at the painting of her.

'What do you think Katarina?'

'It's…amazing. I'm speechless…'

'It won first prize. You won me first prize.'

The picture that stared back at them was of a young woman's face, an identical artist's interpretation of the beautiful girl in the room. The haunted look in her eyes was replaced with something verging on both satisfaction and calm. If there was a word to describe the expression on Katarina's face in the portrait, it would be love.

'You are the reason I won this scholarship. I'm going abroad for the summer…'

Kate's face dropped…

'Well, that's wonderful… I had something for you but now…'

Kate realized Hinton had meant more to her than she to him, for he was the one contemplating leaving.

Hinton took her hands in the shadow of the exquisite painting. Light beamed in from Soho streetlamps. Wind whipped up leaves on the cobbled stone. He could hear her heart and tried to stop himself from hearing her thoughts. He'd consulted a specialist who'd said by twenty-one, his needs would be fully formed. But for tonight, he was okay. Together, they were warm and safe.

'It's just that… I made something for you, but I don't know if I should give it to you now. I mean, now that you are going…'

Katarina sat on the forgotten lounge which had been covered in an old painter's canvas sheet. There were splotches of blue and pink oil paint around the frayed edges of the material.

Hinton moved towards her slowly, blood tightening in his veins. He hesitated.

'That's just it, Katarina. I don't want to go alone. I know you shouldn't accept me, as I am and I know it's early to ask you this - we are young…I am…different, to say the least but…'

Katarina looked more intently at him, not wanting to anticipate his meaning without having it spelt out before her. He wanted her to go with him… or did he?

It was easier for him. All his life he had felt unloved until now. Hinton did not want any misunderstandings or any lack of clarity to mess things up the way love had messed up the people around him - his adopted Uncle, for example.

'I… I love you. And I was wondering if you could overlook…'

Hinton got down on one knee on the bare floors, his mouth watering with nerves, his blood tight in his veins…

'I…am wondering…would you do me the honour…'

Katarina was surprised. She had thought he'd meant her to travel with him but…this.

'Yes,' Katarina said…

'I haven't asked…' he began.

'Ask the question,' Katarina smiled.

'Katarina Spencer…I know we are young, I know we should be fearful of my…condition, but I've never been surer of anyone. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'

'Yes,' Katarina said.

In the shadow formed by street lamps, the young lovers kissed.

**Chapter Thirty-nine**

_**Wuthering Nights **_

It was an icy winter evening in Hampstead as he spread out all of the documents that ridiculous lawyer had required of him for the transferral of property and funds. He was sure he hadn't neglected anything. He left no notes but he knew Greta would do as he wished. She had not been forgotten either. There was an envelope for her which would be sure to allow her to live in luxury for the rest of her life. Apart from Kate, she had been the most loyal person he'd known.

Heath dressed in his warmest black turtle neck jumper and found his boots and the coat he liked best and wore most often. He heard a tap at the window, rain mixed with the branches of the tree outside, hail trickling onto the roof, reminding him of her beautiful face and pale fingers reaching for him.

It was not unusual any more. The waiting, the anticipation, the brief visits that had prolonged his years. He had taken to staying out late then driving home at two in the morning. But tonight was different, tonight she hadn't come to him and he knew it was because it was his turn to find her. Kate was waiting for him in the dark, on the heath, in human form.

She called to him when no one could hear, no one but him.

'I've missed you…' She said, 'I told you I'd come back to you.'

'Kate,' he whispered, 'it's been forever…' he said under his breath, glad she was so restless, like him, a twin soul.

**Epilogue**

_**From the notes of Mr Tom Bennett (lawyer) and visitor to Hampstead Heath, London. **_

In the morning, I was called to investigate the business transactions of a certain Heath Spencer and the links amongst his family which allowed him to divide his assets between three heirs. I was alarmed by news of his passing, but not surprised. The Spencers hadn't made it public and there was no note so it had taken some years for the law to rule that he'd died "of exposure" in the night. It was all rather strange, since his body was never found.

Rather than try to navigate the heath on a frosty winter morning, I stopped and parked near the local pub again and decided to enjoy the ten minute walk along the winding, private road that led to the imposing exterior of Hareton Hall. I was due to visit the new owner, Hinton Spencer, a young man who was married to Katarina Hunt. They had a three year old child and were in a hurry to get the documents signed because they were due to leave for America to spend a summer painting abroad. They were taking an extended vacation and assured me they did not care to live at The Hall but did not wish to sell the place, either. It was a simple matter of the transfer of documents that I'd waited some years to finalize. Hareton Hall would then be returned to its rightful owners.

It was a grinding walk, starting flat and easy and heading ever so slightly up hill, and then, when the sleet and wet started, down again. I was glad I could see the imposing house in the distance.

When I finally arrived there was not a hint of movement, save wind across ground, whipping the heather into a lavender mix in the distance. Up close, there was no sign of the housekeeper either whom I'd been led to believe still lived at Hareton Hall. There was no sign of anything. The fact that the owner had gone "missing" had led to many years of legal uncertainty.

An elderly man, wearing gloves, who looked like he worked with animals, wandered out from the stables, as if from nowhere. He must have been close to ninety years old.

'Is anyone at home?' I asked.

'Not likely,' he replied. 'I've just come from exercising the horses…'

'Is the owner here?'

'You could say that, many do…' he replied enigmatically. He looked at me strangely as he walked into air.

I wandered around to the side of the house, where the cobwebs grew and the foliage had been left wild, giving the lower floor of Hareton Hall the appearance of being covered in unruly brownish lace. There were windows and doors shut tight and locked. The garages were closed and the stables remained empty apart from one where a door had been left swinging open. The grounds themselves, once manicured, had grown wild and lush with secrets.

The owner, I thought, the young man I sought, a Mr Hinton Spencer, must have risen early to go riding across the heath with his wife.

Then I remembered the tales of ghouls and ghosts, the objects seen moving in windows, the people long gone that neighbours reported having seen only days ago. Someone in particular, a young woman with long dark hair who wandered the corridors and played loud music, turning on all the lights during wild, evening parties and lighting hundreds of fire -hazardous candles. I'd assumed the reports were simply jealous neighbours complaining about the noise created by the beautiful young wife, the new Mrs Spencer who'd also had the keys and the run of Hareton Hall. Since the noise always stopped at midnight, there was little anyone could do.

I was about to give up, admit defeat and return the copies of the papers declaring transfer of original ownership to the rightful heirs of Hareton Hall, when I saw the curtains in the upstairs window move. A young girl with long dark hair glanced down at me and smiled. I knocked loudly and waited for a long time, but still, no one answered.

'Katarina Spencer,' I announced, calling out distinctly, although I knew Katarina would be older now and the woman at the window was barely out of her teens. The downstairs curtains waved and I thought perhaps the housekeeper might be there. I looked up again. The girl who stood at the window was beautiful, otherworldly. The image disappeared before my eyes in a mirage of dark curls, cream lace and ruby cheeks.

I was convinced the cold, like the heat, could make you see a mirage in the mist yet I waited on the doorstep for a long time. No one answered. I was tempted to look back as I walked towards my car. For the first time in my life I didn't need proof. I was sure the rumours I'd heard were true, though my notes had many pages missing. As I drove towards The Grange, I was certain the lovers who had once inhabited Hareton Hall, lived there still. The girl had not aged a day since she was last seen alive, more than twenty years ago.

Summer Day is the author of Pride & Princesses, a novel for young adults inspired by Pride and Prejudice and Anne Eyre, a YA novel inspired by Jane Eyre. Follow Summer Day on:

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Email: summerdaylight99

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	11. Hinton Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_**Hinton**_

'It's late… ' Heath said, changing the subject as Katarina took another sip of tea.

It was past midnight and the storm hadn't subsided.

'Do you mind if I stay the night?'

Heath was mildly surprised but glad he hadn't had to make the suggestion.

'Of course not, I don't know when or even if the boys will be home, but there are six guest rooms and Greta should be in at eight in the morning. Take your pick. I'm just going to stay here by the fire, go through a few papers. I have a business meeting in the City tomorrow. Even though it's Saturday, some of the foreign markets don't sleep.'

'Mmm…' Katarina said. Normally she would have felt odd staying in a stranger's house. Before it was her uncle's it had, after all, been her mother's. Katarina was surprised Heath had become so traditional. He'd once dreamed of being a rock star according to a letter her mother had written (the only one that she had been allowed to read and keep).

Katarina gazed at her mother's portrait in the hallway. How was it possible to look so similar to a person you didn't know?

'Thank you. I just texted my father and he thinks I'm staying with my friend - the girl you met in the pub.'

'Blonde one, long hair?'

'Yes, that one,' Kate regularly excused Stacey's flirtatious behaviour.

Heath nodded, making himself seem more amiable than he was. He tried to imagine he hadn't dreamed of sinking his teeth into the blonde girl's neck and draining her until she shuddered.

'I was wondering if I could sleep in my mother's old room?'

Heath hesitated, but he knew refusal would put her off guard.

'Well…um, I don't think Greta has the bed made up.'

'Which one is it?'

'First right, top of the stairs, but…' He could feel his muscles tightening; he needed his medication and perhaps some protein from the larder…

'That's okay; I'll just take this…' Katarina gestured to the checked mohair blanket that had been wrapped around her. Before Heath could utter another word, she said good night and was bounding half way up the creaking staircase, two steps at a time, revealing her youth.

It would be a long night, Heath thought, as he finished his pint of Magenta and took some extra capsules. The storm water pelted down on the sill in the drawing room as the lights suddenly flashed. The dog jumped up and howled. His ears were alert to the unfamiliar sound of music playing from Kate's old bedroom.

'Settle,' Heath warned.

The dog nuzzled his head under his paws and softly growled instead. He sensed a person approaching.

Outside, Hinton, Heath's adopted son, walked alone towards the house. He was grown now, hunched over his plastic-wrapped package. It was his latest completed canvas, carefully covered. Hinton had lived at Hareton Hall since his sister, Frances, had arrived with him in tow eighteen years ago. Now he had no family but Heath and Linus. The boy wore a blue scarf, brown coat and ski hat pulled down over his ears. He'd been in central London finishing his Art History class and then he'd stayed on to assist the tutor during a photography lesson. Hinton was one of the best students at Art College and made extra cash tutoring. The class had been developing film (in a dark room during their lesson in pre-digital camera work) and some students had then decided to go into the West End for drinks. Before he knew, it was almost daybreak.

The boy hated going home. His uncle was legally his adopted father but Hinton always called him Heath. Before Hinton went off to class, Heath had been in a surlier mood than usual and was always on at him about "making something of his life" and going to work in the City at the family firm. Hinton couldn't believe he expected so much of him when he expected absolutely nothing of his own son. Linus, who was blonde like his mother, did little else except socialize and run dance parties in abandoned fields.

Heath and Hinton had countless arguments about Hinton's "lack of direction." Hinton knew Heath liked to keep his family close by and didn't want either of his sons to leave home before they had finished studying. He was a difficult and unsociable parent but he was the only parent Hinton had since his own had died shortly after his birth. Franny had raised him until her desire to flee The Hall after Harrison's death overcame her. Hinton was in school then and The Hall became his holiday home. Greta, who had children of her own to care for, only came in three days a week now.

Heath rarely trusted new people enough to actually employ them so when staff left, they were not replaced. Over the years only Greta remained. Hinton couldn't really believe how he'd been trapped into his adopted father's lair, especially since Heath had never actually been demonstrative towards him during his childhood. But then, he'd never shown much love to his own son, either. Slowly, Hareton Hall had become his home. And it was all because of _her,_ Hinton thought. As he neared the house, the first picture to greet him in the hallway would be Kate Spencer's.

Hinton was sceptical about love partly because of the rumours that connected her to his adopted father. Besides, Hinton was nineteen and had a reputation to uphold. He enjoyed "playing the field" as Heath used to say in the old days. Since Art College had more female students than males, the odds were definitely in his favour. Even so, Hinton couldn't wait to get out of Hampstead for good. As he walked up the drive, along the old stone road, shivering in the early hours of the morning, he considered the merits of leaving London. The borough was freezing and the cab from the station would only take him so far along the icy road now that the storm was subsiding. He often took the bus. There was nowhere to park in central London anyway and he hated asking Heath for money.


	12. Remember Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_**Remember **_

Hinton was surprised that the lights were still on in the drawing room as he entered the house. The dog had slept by the fire until everyone else had gone to sleep. Then, he'd done as usual and wandered upstairs to lie at the foot of his master's bed.

The boy had removed his coat; he wore the latest sneakers and low rise jeans. Hinton wandered into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. He hoped Greta had left something since. He was very hungry after hours of clubbing in Soho. He was often photographed there with various girlfriends, but lately, his shallow existence had begun to bother him. Perhaps he was more like his adopted father than he thought. The family photographs that filled the drawing room told barely half the story of its dysfunction.

Hinton shook his head at the pictures on the wall as he climbed the stairs. It was funny to him that Heath could give himself airs and graces but no one knew where he came from either. Heath could use the title bestowed upon him for "services to the economy" but that didn't make him a Lord, not in Hinton's eyes. He couldn't have cared less about titles but he thought it almost funny that he had to practically ask permission to live in his own house when his sister had more rights to it than Heath (who only owned the house because of a swindle…) but that was another story.

The boy was aware there were two sides to the family history. In the first version, Heath had "saved" him as a child from a vicious beating by his drunkard brother-in-law, Harrison. The other was contained in an apologetic note from Harrison years later. Truth lay somewhere in between. One thing Hinton knew for sure; Heath cheated Harrison out of his own home during a game of high-stakes poker.

There are always more sides to a story but this was the particular side that Hinton chose to believe. Before the bet, papers had been signed. Heath, the foundling child, had risen to become the rightful owner of Hareton Hall. Hinton grimaced in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth and splashed his face. His image was hazy with condensation. He rubbed the mirror with a towel and wiped his face dry. Hinton turned off the light and walked quietly to his room. Heath's light was on. As usual Hinton didn't bother to say goodnight. Instead, he flopped on his own bed fully clothed.

Heath wasn't so bad. He'd been more of a father than Harrison and treated him more like a biological son than the father he'd never met. Besides, unless he won the annual Art Prize at his college, he had nowhere else to go.

Hinton had flicked on the television news in his bedroom and was chugging orange juice and eating what was left of some roasted chicken, when he heard a piercing screech that made him walk into the hallway.

Doors flung open and Heath's dog bounded out of the main bedroom towards a room with blazing light under the door; a room that had never been used since his teenage aunt had inhabited it more than twenty years ago.

A dark-haired girl flung open the door and stood on the landing, looking pale and frightened in the half light. Hinton Spencer froze on the spot.

'Who are you?'

'I'm… I'm Katarina Hunt. You must be…'

'Hinton, your cousin by marriage, for all intents and purposes. I was adopted. Are you okay?'

'I don't know… I think I will be. Someone tried to get into my room.'

The boy, mesmerized by her white skin and red lips, stared at her longer than was necessary, then apologized, adding, 'sorry…it's just that you are identical to my…adopted Aunt…' He gestured to Kate's picture on the wall.

'May I?' Hinton said.

'Yes…come in, please.' Kate said with desperation in her voice. Hinton checked the cupboards and behind the curtains, even under the bed.

'There's nothing in here…'

A slight breeze wafted through the room, seemingly from nowhere.

'I…I met your Uncle, um Heath and I wanted to come back to see some old photos and the house my mother grew up in. Then the storm set in so I asked if I could stay the night and…I don't think Heath wanted me to stay and someone tried to get into my room."

Hinton looked around.

'The door was shut when I came up.'

Almost speechless, Katarina whispered, 'not through the door, through the window.'

Hinton wandered past the bed and towards the upstairs bay window. It was unlocked and unopened. He pulled it up. They were on the upper floor. Below, lay a stone pathway. The flower beds were a metre away from the walls and the trees even farther. It would not have been possible for anyone to climb up.

'There is no one there now,' Hinton said. 'Are you sure you didn't have too much to drink?'

'Are you serious? I know what I saw.'

Outside, the wind started to pelt down onto the trees. In the distance, an icy storm began to howl again.

'Tell you what,' Hinton said, smiling, 'Why don't you come into my room? I'll take the floor, of course, and you'll be safe until morning when I drive you home.'

Katarina looked at him hesitantly. This wasn't the cousin she was supposed to meet, though she'd heard about him often enough at Art College. Hinton was known as a real ladies' man, a guy who failed his A-levels and only got into college because of the brilliance of his drawings and a scholarship. Everyone knew his family were loaded. Hinton was a year ahead of her, so they'd seen each other in the halls but never spoken. He'd dated more than his share of girls at the college, and dumped them just as quickly.

Katarina reluctantly dragged her checked blanket off the bed and pulled on her jeans over her underwear as Hinton pretended to look away.

'C'mon, then,' Katarina said, as the storm raged outside.

Hinton couldn't believe his luck. He started walking towards his room when he realised the girl had taken a wrong turn.

'I'm going to sleep in the drawing room,' Katarina said. 'Perhaps, you could come with me?' She was still pretty scared after the earlier incident, though she'd never admit it and Hinton had all but convinced her she was dreaming.

"Mmm, give up my bed for a hard couch?" For a minute she thought he was going to refuse.

'Why not?' he said with his most affable smile. 'We can pretend we're on a camping holiday.' Although her likeness to her mother threw him momentarily, Hinton was beginning to like this new cousin.

Heath was able to sleep through practically anything but lately he'd been woken up at all hours. He'd drunk three glasses of brandy before bed and fallen into an almost trancelike state reading the stock reports and going through some important files in relation to an upcoming merger. He'd been out hunting squirrels and rabbits again. He'd swiftly scaled the outside wall so no one would notice him coming back or leaving. Disgusted, he wiped the blood from his mouth, rinsed and brushed his teeth before bed.

Though he dimly heard the sound of a woman's scream it faded just as quickly and the only change in his vast, kingly bedroom was the blurry sight of his dog's ears standing up. He crawled under his duvet. Heath slept a few hours every night. After his maturity, at twenty-one, he hadn't slept at all. But recently, he'd started falling into a deep slumber in the early hours of the morning. He reached over for his newly prescribed elixir. There were many underground markets now and different products for both vampires and hybrids that hadn't been available to Heath in his youth. After he chugged some Magenta (a new elixir), he fell back into a deep sleep. The dog whimpered and snuggled at his feet like she always did when he woke.

In the dark he heard a woman's voice, clear as glass.

"Heath… Heath…" the girl whispered to him. Then, her hand reached over and shook him awake.

Dark hair fanned across his ear, irritating him and interrupting his dream, which was more than a dream. Heath opened his eyes and saw the perfect brown eyes of another and heard Kate's pleading voice as he reached out to touch her cheek.

'Heath,' the girl said. 'Forgive me for what I did. I've been away for eighteen years. Please come back to me, I have missed you. It's so cold out here…come back to me…come back…Let me in. I've been in the in-between for so long…'


	13. The cottage Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

_**The Cottage**_

Heath disappeared most evenings at school. Kate knew he went hunting. He'd be back for band rehearsals, he had promised her. He'd been counselled by his doctor. Kate was sure he practised being 'safe', which meant only drinking wild animals and never more than he needed to survive. Magenta, drunk in the interim, ensured he was not tempted by humans; nor would he be, unless his vampiricism developed fully. This was a roll of the dice, according to his specialist. They wouldn't know if he was a full bloodsucker until he reached eighteen. In the meantime, his diet subsisted only of protein, citrus, Magenta and plasma delivered via special order from London once a week. Blood oranges were still his favourites.

Tomorrow night, the inter-school Battle of the Bands competition was to be held as part of the Sixth Form dance. Kate and a few others, including Annabelle Hunt, were factored into the front row as audience members or "fake fans", as Kate joked. Annabelle had made such an effort to be friends with Kate that the girls were now talking and Annabelle had hesitantly been accepted into Kate's circle of popular girls.

Those girls were sitting in the front row. The band hoped they wouldn't be sitting there long. Tonight, they wanted everyone in the room up dancing. Heath would be lying if he said he didn't like the fact that a lot of girls paid him attention. He was tall with dark hair and had a "mysterious" look about him. He'd heard Annabelle giggling and whispering about him to his friends once. He still disliked the Hunts but he enjoyed female attention in all its forms and it didn't pay to display open warfare towards Annabelle's older brother, Edmund. He'd tried that in his first year at boarding school and all his privileges had been withdrawn. He hadn't seen Kate in over a week.

There was only one girl whose opinion truly mattered to him and she sat front row centre as the band played her favourite cover. Afterwards, everyone rushed off to supper but Heath and Kate had plans.

As Heath packed away his guitar, the drummer, who fancied Kate, smiled at her.

'Did you like your song, Kate? We played it especially for you…'

Heath rolled his eyes, jealously.

'I more than enjoyed it,' Kate replied but she was looking straight at Heath when she spoke.

Heath had a good singing voice. He and his band were the coolest – some said most dangerous boys at school – by far. Although Kate was proud of Heath's ability to assimilate, it had begun to annoy her to see other girls paying Heath so much attention and the last thing she wanted to do was let him know how great he was. That would create too much of an ego problem.

'I mean, it was better than okay,' she covered.

'That was your song,' Heath said.

Kate couldn't help but smile. Heath knew what she liked so well.

Heath pretended not to care and smiled at Annabelle Hunt as she gathered her things, much to Kate's annoyance. Heath made sure Kate noticed how much Annabelle Hunt flirted with him. When he became bored with Annabelle's conversation mid-sentence, Heath turned from her and walked over to demand Kate's undivided attention. Kate paused and glanced into Heath's eyes. It was obvious to strangers they had a connection that went beyond words.

When they were alone, Kate tugged at Heath's shirt and gave him the lamb sandwich she'd made in the kitchen especially for him. They were having a roast today at the girl's school and Kate knew it was Heath's favourite. He thanked her, pulled off the lamb, wolfed it down then left the bread. Heath was always starving these days. It was as if none of the food he ate satisfied him.

'C'mon, I also bought us tea…' Kate had her flask and some more lamb and chicken wrapped in a satchel. Heath grimaced, but realised weak tea kept him hydrated. Kate was always trying to look after him, even though they'd be seeing each other less now that they were both studying for half-term finals.

'You really did rock, Heath,' she whispered, looking up at him when she said it. He tried not to beam so hard. He grew happy and less prideful under her gaze but he held back from saying what he wanted to say. Heath wanted to tell Kate Spencer how much he loved her but he couldn't. If he told her, he felt sure that she would torture him, use it against him and tease him more than she usually did. It was in her nature to be both a chameleon and contrite. He wouldn't say the words until he was sure she felt the same.

They agreed to meet at the cottage to study for their exams. They enjoyed meeting up, just to read and talk like they used to when they lived in London.

The cottage was a secret meeting place that had been used for decades by the students from both schools. Built into a stone wall that marked the outside gate of the shared sporting grounds, it could only be reached by running (or walking very quickly) far out of sight across the never ending playing fields and through a kind of dugout that led to an even more lush pasture.

The dwelling had been uninhabited for at least a decade. The hut had been built in the curve. High on the hill, it lay abandoned when no one had bothered to demolish it. Most of the students knew of its existence and it was the "go to" place for midnight feasts… and lover's meetings.

By the time Kate arrived, windswept and dishevelled, Heath had caught her up.

The interior of the cottage had recently been renovated by teenagers. There was evidence of junk food and discarded games, posters tagged on walls, various blankets and duvets rolled into a cupboard, and a well-used fireplace. It was the perfect spot for a winter picnic.

'Reminds me a little bit of Hampstead,' Kate said, looking out the window.

'Scotland reminds me of nothing in the South. It's…lonelier…wilder,' he said, rubbing his mouth when Kate couldn't see. He suddenly needed his incisors filed but he wasn't going to admit it. Only Heath could feel the sharp tips of the teeth inside his mouth, reminding him of his true nature. Kate placed the food on the red checked table cloth over the low coffee table as Heath lit the fire. The boy hungrily demolished the roast chicken from Kate's satchel as the girl looked on in amusement. She spread out the board game on the floor. The pair of them began playing Scrabble in their usual competitive way until Kate, bored with the game, messed up her side with the pieces tumbling across the floor amidst a cloud of laughter.

'This is such a boring game,' she said. 'I've never understood why I can't make up words… '

She leaned over towards him. Heath felt unexpectedly nervous, but tried to act cool.

'What sort of words?'

'Oh, you know. Words they don't teach us at school…' Kate smiled wickedly then changed the subject.

'I am so bored with classes but I can't wait to see your band perform tomorrow night. I miss Hampstead. I miss the glass house where we used to go… to hunt for food…and flowers…'

Kate loved flowers. She'd even given Heath some edible ones once, when he was little, which he'd duly tried to eat. Kate rolled onto her back and stared up at the low beamed roof. Heath looked bashful. The fire flickered, creating artistic shadows of the pair on the inside of the cottage.

'I think we should play a different game…' Kate said.

Heath looked at Kate incredulously, as he turned the page of his History text. He hadn't expected this.

Kate reached over and stroked his hair. He could still feel the touch of her fingers, moments later. Overwhelmed, he took her hand in his and used all of his willpower to stop himself pulling her to him and fanging her. He didn't want to mess things up with Kate before they were ready. Heath ached for her loveliness; she was part of him more than anything or anyone ever could be or would be. When he thought of his biological family, he was dismissive of them. He didn't remember their faces. Besides, they had abandoned him when they discovered he was a bloodsucking freak; just as his friends would probably turn on him, if they knew the truth.

He dropped his pen and changed the subject. 'What…what are your plans for next year?'

Kate laughed… 'Okay, we'll play your way. Let's see, if I wasn't going to be a famous painter, do you know what I'd be?'

'I don't,' Heath replied as she plaited her hair into a braid.

'Well, I love my horse so…I'd be a vet…and save the animals…'

'You'd have to study hard for that,' Heath said sarcastically, glancing back at the words on his page.

'What, don't you think I'm capable?'

Heath knew Kate could do anything she set her mind to, starting with gaining access to the school kitchen when he couldn't, but it wouldn't pay to compliment her right now. She was far more confident than he was.

'It's not that,' he hedged. 'I'm just not sure if you have the dedication,' he replied, turning his head so she couldn't see his smile.

'Oh, you…'

He reached over and caught her hand. Kate looked up at Heath with a devotion she quickly hid with words.

'Let me get closer to the fire. It's freezing in here…' Kate said.

Heath moved closer to her, closer to the flames which were weak, but turned and crackled forming a strong light.

Heath made the first move. He put his hand on Kate's hair and she held his gaze.

'Run away with me Kate.'

Kate laughed.

'When? Where to?'

'When we've finished school, after we turn eighteen. We could go to Prague or Paris or Spain.'

'What with?'

'We'll get jobs…'

'I can't just abandon everything…my family…'

'Apart from your father, they've abandoned us…

Kate considered this for a moment.

'I know. Harrison is…not to be trusted and mother lets him sign everything. He controls all her assets after she and father separated. She even signed half of the house into his name. Mother never did like responsibility.' Kate reached out to Heath and he leant over and kissed her wrist, softly, again.

Kate opened her eyes wide, suddenly seeing the future.

'Yes, let's do it. Let's go to Spain. I'll study art and design, though I once thought Paris might be the place for that. Never mind, I'm sure they have good design schools in Spain and you can…start a band… only we've no money, not a cent. It's just a fantasy, Heath. Ten minutes in another country without a roof over our heads and we'd be fighting all the time. And…'

'What?' He wanted her to say it but she wouldn't.

'…and liking each other less…'

'I could never like you less, Kate. There is no such possibility.'

'Why?'

'Because I love you.'

Kate liked it when he spoke like this, but it worried her. 'I know,' was all she said.

What she should have said, and what she later regretted not saying was that she also loved him. It was obvious. Her journals were testament to this. Each one covering a year in their lives together, written in schoolgirl writing, with train tickets and photographs taken on her polaroid when Heath was least expecting it, pasted into the pages. She kept the most recent one hidden under her bed. Her favourite photograph was one she took of Heath in his navy blue school blazer standing on the playing fields with a bemused look on his face, just as he realised she was the culprit – the school photo journalist.

Kate glanced longingly at Heath after he'd kissed her again. She looked into his perfect eyes and felt the hard cut of his arm muscles. This boy, soon to be a man, was everything to her. He was her whole life, the male version of herself. She knew to be wary, though - family neglect had taught her this; not to let him know her entire being was his to do with as he pleased. Kate sat up and glanced down at her shoe, resolving to change the subject.

Heath loved that about her - the two versions. In this version, Kate had fresh colour rising in her cheeks. He wanted to be closer to her, to touch the vein in her wrist, her neck, to kiss her lips, but he didn't dare move.

'I think you should take your studies more seriously, never mind about me. I could never love a man, who didn't know at least as much as me,' she joked as she packed up the chess pieces.

'Well, then, there are a great many men for you to love,' Heath replied with a raised eyebrow.

'Oh, you…' Kate threw one of the Scrabble pieces his way.

Heath laughed in return, loving that he could get to her so easily.

He had applied to various universities but he wasn't sure what he wanted. Beyond Kate's love, nothing. He'd gone through the motions, telling no one before now that he'd considered applying to Oxford. He'd organised teachers he knew would give him good references and because his marks were flawless, he had a reasonable chance of being accepted. He just had to pass the interviews. He'd studied every evening when he wasn't with Kate, and when he was, he studied late into the night. He wanted to achieve more than anyone he knew. More than anything, he wanted Kate to be proud of him.

They read some more and fell asleep beside the fire. When they woke the next morning, fully clothed, wrapped together under a pile of blankets, it was morning.

'C'mon,' Kate said, dusting off bread crumbs from her skirt, 'we don't want to miss chapel or they will notice and maybe stop me going to the gig tonight. Someone could report us…'

Heath rolled his eyes. 'You mean Hunt.'

'Really, he's not that bad. I think he wants to be your friend. Actually I think Annabelle is quite keen on you. You better be careful, Heath. Those secretive, silent girls are the worst with their little schoolgirl crushes…'

'Is that what you have on me?'

'Silly, I'm not the silent, secretive type,' Kate said.

It wasn't the answer Heath wanted to hear.

'Well, you never had to be.'

Heath turned with the coat and handed Kate her scarf.

'How can you joke like that Kate?'

'What? I'm just kidding.'

'How could you think there is anyone for me apart from you?'

'I…I think you like me too much. It will distract you from getting good marks in your finals.'

'Am I hearing things? Listen to yourself Kate. I don't "like" you too much. There is no "like" here.

Kate looked away, aware of the depth of her feelings for the handsome boy that stood opposite her. Over the past year, he'd grown a head taller than her. She had to look up in the morning half-light to meet his eyes. Again, she looked away.

'Look at me Kate.'

'I know most girls think you're hot.'

'Oh, so you're saying you don't?'

'Those girls don't know you, like I know you,' Kate said slowly. Before Kate was forced to answer, the door blew open as one of the younger students arrived, out of breath. 'Come quick,' he said, '… they're taking the register. They know someone broke into the kitchen last night and stole some chickens and the headmaster is going ballistic.'

Kate giggled while Heath grabbed their coats as they prepared to run. It would be wiser to attend roll call, or else it would be completely obvious they'd been out all night; and then Mr Spencer would be informed, or worse.


	14. Linus Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

_**Linus**_

Katarina woke in the living room but she did not feel refreshed. The girl stepped quietly past her sleeping cousin and headed upstairs to retrieve her shoes. Much to her surprise, a shard of sunlight was shining through the floor length window of the room. The storm had subsided, leaving a wreck of mud and branches across the grounds of the estate. The girl pulled on her jumper and brushed her hair. The ancient brush looked like it had been passed down through many generations of the Spencer family. Katarina discovered some toothpaste in an old-fashioned bathroom. Upon scrutiny of her image in the mirror, she changed her mind and decided to take a shower. Katarina leaned in closely to the mirror, noticing the dark circles under her brown eyes, betraying her lack of sleep.

'Hello, how are you?'

The voice made her jump.

'You might have knocked.'

'Oh, no need to cover up. I've seen it all before,' Linus said breezily. 'I work in a theatre – stage management. You look as if you've seen a ghost.'

'Is that meant to be a joke?'

'Oh, you noticed it too…'

'What?'

'Last night, curtains moving, lights flickering, noises in the dark…' He made a strange horror movie noise and laughed.

'There was a woman…a stranger trying to get into my room…'

'Oh people have been saying stuff like that for years…'

'You're not going to tell me…'

'Oh, I'm here to tell you, it's all true. I'd never bring my friends home. Place is seriously haunted…'

Katarina didn't know if he was joking or not, nor did she know what to say in response to Linus' quick wit and even quicker turn of phrase. She decided she had no choice but to run with it. She smiled - at least it felt safer with another human being in the room.

'But enough of the gloom and doom, I'm interning in a theatre on the West End. I'll get you a ticket to come and see the latest show if you like. It's pretty good. I also organise dance parties on the weekends. Father does not approve, as you can imagine. What about you?'

'I like music and painting. I go to Art College and take photographs.'

'Cool.'

Linus held out his hand to Katarina, and she shook it.

A boy with what could only be described as wild hair and the appearance of an 80's punk, smiled back at her in the mirror. He messed his hair with his hands.

'So, do you like my new look?' Linus asked.

'It's…interesting but I never saw your old one.' Katarina replied.

'You must be Kat, Heath's niece, the one we've never met. I have the illustrious honour of being Heath's son. How is the old man?'

'Well, he's not very…old.'

'No, I know. But I'm guessing he's still pretty grumpy.' He pulled a face. 'I always try to get out of the house early. Father hates the fact that I go off to Brighton with my mates every weekend and can't stand the thought of working in his stuffy financial firm. But he was so young when he had me. Really, his idea of becoming a parent at this point in my life is a bit of a joke… Mind?' Linus took Kat's tube of toothpaste.

'I brought my own toothbrush,' Linus said reassuringly.

Katarina laughed.

'Oh, I'm going to write down my web page. We should stay in touch. Heath is sure to lose it at some point this morning, or he might already be out with the horses. In any case, you're going to want to run away from this house and never return…just like all the women in this family do.'

'Surely, they didn't all run away. Not all of them.'

'Yes, all of them,' the boy said regretfully.

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.'

Linus quickly changed the subject.

'Get dressed. We're meeting Hinton for breakfast; he likes to sketch in the cafe. Sometimes I think he's aiming to draw every nook and cranny in Hampstead. He and I don't really get on. So, it'll be quite funny to turn up at his favourite breakfast hangout with you in tow. He takes all his notes and paper to draw people there. He's obsessed with capturing their images. I'm sure I can't see any point in that…' Linus said breezily.

Linus talked on and it was hard not to like him, with his easy way and humorous take on the world.

Greta called upstairs, 'and what would you both like for breakfast?'

'Nothing darling,' Linus said theatrically. 'I'm taking my cousin out. You're welcome to join us,' he added.

'No Linus, I only popped in to drop off the groceries,' Greta said warily.

'Bring you back one of those lovely frosted buns from the French bakery for morning tea, then, eh?' Linus said, dragging Katarina down the stairs with him.

'Oh, have you said goodbye to your father?'

'Goodbye? We haven't said good morning. He's out with the horses. Tell him I'll see him tonight.'

Greta rolled her eyes.

'And with a bit of luck,' Linus said under his breath, 'he'll be asleep by nine pm.'

Katarina laughed.

'He was…quite the gentleman around me.'

'Oh, that's just because you don't know him, yet.'

'I get the feeling our families never wanted us to meet,' Katarina said as they walked down the sunny driveway, slippery from last night's hail storm.

'Here, take these.'

Linus handed Katarina a pair of gumboots. They both carried their shoes in their hands.

'The calm after the storm. C'mon, I know a shortcut,' Linus said enthusiastically.

'Near my house?'

'Something like that,' the boy said as they walked through the sunken garden, across the heath, towards The Grange and past the private, hidden glass conservatory that was tucked behind the Summer House.

'My father used to come here… with your mother, when they were children.'

'I know,' Katarina said. 'I'm reading her journal. I found it under the bed last night.'

Linus looked shocked. 'Oh, that must be another one,' he said, reaching for the diary.

'Not until I've read this one,' Katarina replied. 'I'm only on page eighteen…but sometimes I think this is the place she was happiest.'

Her cousin shrugged. 'Just up ahead, past the conservatory on our left, past the fancy house on the corner, is our café.'

Linus took Katarina's arm and she suddenly felt adopted by her cousin, like a new best friend.

Linus pulled a face as they removed their muddy boots at the door of the café and replaced them with their own shoes. 'There he is, sitting all sullen in the corner table. And in about ten seconds, Hinton will… look up.' As if on cue, that's what happened. Linus and Katarina laughed. Hinton didn't smile. He scowled and hastily gathered his sketches.

Hinton was just as unwelcoming and monosyllabic when they sat at the table with him. He'd already eaten a plate of bacon which Katarina thought was really unhealthy. Katarina ordered tea and poached eggs with toast and Linus ordered muesli with strawberries and yoghurt. A jug of blood orange juice was placed on the table and Hinton guzzled two glasses. He then proceeded to wolf down a second breakfast of eggs (he left the toast on the side) as he sketched the interior of the café, practically ignoring Linus and Katarina, who couldn't get over the difference in his personality from the previous night.

As he looked up briefly from his sketches, Hinton barely nodded. Nevertheless, Katarina, was in her element, surrounded by new family. Her two cousins seemed to be far more interested in themselves and their plans that her, but Katarina didn't mind. Hinton had an exhibition to prepare and Linus started chatting about the play he was stage managing. When the sun shone through the window, Hinton shifted from the direct light and began to get restless as he shuffled his papers. Katarina was keen to get back to her mother's diary, but was wary of appearing (unlike her cousins) rude. Besides, it felt nice to be amongst what were for all intents and purposes, her family.

As they finished their breakfasts and she read the paper, Katarina noticed Hinton peering at the words on her page. She looked up and sounded out the word, incandescent. Hinton looked away.

'Do you wear glasses, Hinton?'

'No,' Hinton replied taking offence through a mouthful of bacon. He chugged down the rest of his orange juice then began gulping his coffee. His hunger seemed to have no end.

'Oh, don't mind him Katarina. Hinton always wolfs down his food, don't you Hinton?' Linus said with a mocking smile.

Hinton raised an eyebrow, apparently used to his cousin's humour. Meanwhile it was obvious Hinton had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or couch as was the case the previous night. Katarina tried to make small talk but Hinton stopped drawing, folded his sketches and announced quietly that he had to go to college to work on his portfolio.

Katarina wanted to say, 'I'll come with you,' because she had planned to do the same, but she felt she didn't really know him well enough (except by reputation). From the way he was behaving it appeared he would not want her to accompany him. Hinton got up so quickly, he even left the scarf he was wearing, (her scarf, strangely enough), by her seat. He didn't want to give her an excuse to return to Hareton Hall.

After he left, Linus stirred his coffee as he spoke. "Oh, never mind him, Katarina. He's always more sociable in the evenings. Take no notice. I'm glad we met. Besides, it's obvious he likes you. I would too if we weren't related…' Linus smiled dramatically.

'Well, I suppose I should also be going…'

"Nonsense, you're coming with me to Portobello Road to buy new outfits before I go to my rehearsal. Then we're off to Camden town tomorrow and tomorrow night, in honour of having found you again, we're going to cook a feast and have some friends over for dinner. I have it on good authority that father will be out.'

Linus opened up the newspaper and sure enough, inside the lift out, there was a picture of Heath, in a dinner suit standing with his most recent girlfriend. She was also a company director and the daughter of a media mogul. Heath was announcing a charity ball that would be sponsored by the family company, _Heath & Sons,_ that evening.

'Mmm… sons,' Linus mused, 'how optimistic. I think that means me… and Hinton, though I don't think we were quite what father was expecting.'

Linus leaned in close 'You know Hinton can barely read, don't you? That's probably why he left suddenly.'

Katarina looked surprised. 'What? I thought there might be something wrong with his eyesight…'

'Oh, he sees clear as day; he can practically see in the dark. It's just that father was… well, he raised him to ride and take care of the animals. He was home schooled by Greta when we realised everyone was just going to make fun of him at regular school. It was terrible. Keep this to yourself. Father hates it when I talk about the family publicly but there's always been a lot of tension between us,' Linus stated matter-of-factly. 'I mean, he's not exactly thrilled with my choice of…career but at least I'm literate.'

Linus went beyond the insinuation that Hinton was not. 'Oh, he's clever. It's just that he has dyslexia and never really had it diagnosed properly and now… he's too embarrassed to ask for lessons.'

'Well, I was good at English at school. Maybe I could help him. He seems so clever. It's hard to believe he can't read…' Katarina said.

'Maybe. Hinton's unsociable. I've tried and he won't talk to me. We just don't really like each other, I suppose. I mean, we're not blood relations but we were raised together. Sometimes it's just the way things are…'

Katarina resolved in some way to help her adopted cousin as she sipped her tea, constantly entertained by quips from Linus.

When the waiter came and Linus, ever the gentleman, reached for the bill, Katarina couldn't resist.

'By the way, last night, I saw something… well, someone. It was a person, I'm sure of it. A woman tried to get into the room as I slept. I didn't see her face clearly in the dark but…'

'Is that why you screamed?'

'Yes… '

'Perhaps it was a nightmare. Being too much in father's company will do that to a person.' Linus replied, always the joker.

'No… I mean… a woman… I didn't see her face. I saw her hand reach through the window. It was so real, I could almost touch her fingers…'

Linus shivered. He let the silence hang between them for a moment until he spoke…

'It's her again.'

'Who?'

'C'mon, we'll talk outside.'

Linus offered to pay the bill and they walked out towards the tube station on Hampstead High Street.

'I'm not sure it's really my place to say and I'm not exactly sure what you saw but…' Linus glanced over at his cousin with a serious expression on his face…

'Go on…'

'Well, Father should have warned you… but it looks like it's up to me, as usual. Hareton Hall is a freak show.'

Katarina just looked at her cousin; she didn't know what to say. Of course, she hadn't believed in haunted houses before. But then, she had never confronted the possibility of their existence until last night. She suspected some more answers might be locked inside the cover of the diary she now kept. They changed trains. The underground was semi-empty this morning. When the tube stopped at Notting Hill, they walked to Linus' car. He'd parked it outside the station when he couldn't drive home the previous night.

'Jump in, we'll go to the markets then I'll drop you home. Oh, I almost forgot, there's an old school yearbook with empty pages at the back that your mother wrote in extensively. I'd been putting my stuff in storage, preparing to move into a flat in Bayswater but I took this by mistake from the wardrobe. I was going to put it back but I think you might like it. It's in the back seat. I found it a while ago and kept it, so it wouldn't be amongst the things you already have. You could add it to your… investigation. I was never terribly interested, to be honest, so I didn't bother reading it. I just flicked through the photos. Oh, but I wouldn't tell father. He's very secretive about that part of his life, the part he spent with… your mother.'

He reached in and handed Katarina the package.

Katarina took the album possessively and opened a page that contained letters stuck into opened envelopes. They were undated and the post stamp was unclear. Kate's childish handwriting but sophisticated language described a pre-holiday dance where Heath's band was due to perform. _I'm so excited for The Battle of the Bands, _was a sentence that stood out. Her mother had even stuck a small piece of the pink voile from her dress on the page as a keepsake. Katarina ran her fingers over the material. After the first ten pages, which were obviously written by her mother, there was another letter signed by Heath.

'Does your father know we have this?'

'I doubt it,' Linus said. 'All of this was so long ago. Most of it is undated but they must have been written over twenty years ago - way back in the nineties. Anyway, father has no idea what is in every nook and cranny of the house. Probably forgot he ever wrote this stuff. It's bizarre to read. Your mother must've stuck the letters in there. Hard to believe people actually _wrote_ letters back then…' Her cousin trailed off.

Katarina, finding them impossible to resist, stuffed the notes in her bag.

As Linus turned on the ignition, Katarina suddenly wished she was alone at The Grange to ponder her mother's words in detail.


	15. Letters Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen **

_**Letters **_

_From Kate to Heath _

_Dearest Heath_

_It's the night after the dance and I've been told to pack and be ready to leave in an hour. No one will tell me why I'm wanted at The Hall. It may be something to do with Harrison. No one can find you. I think you must be out hunting. Father insists I am to return home on the next train. My bags are packed and I'm writing this to you in case you don't arrive in time to catch the train with me. I want you to know what I have never told you enough - how much I love you. I am leaving this under your door to read when you return. _

_I keep thinking of the events that led to me being separated from you and wanted to clear up the misunderstanding that occurred… I'm going back to the beginning…_

_Annabelle stopped by (such a swat) on her way from the school library, to show me her dress. Don't ask me how we've become friends but I suppose that's what you could call us, until tonight. Anyway, I'd been trying to get her to wear contacts for ages, and finally she'd agreed. It was like a new person greeted me at the door._

'_Kate, you look beautiful,' she said. I felt it was my turn to repay her compliment._

_We sat together at my dresser, me in my pink satin slip, bought especially to go with my dress for the occasion (I can't believe I'm writing this down!) to impress you later as we planned! Annabelle had draped my dressing gown over her clothes and was trying on my slippers. We painted our nails to match our dresses. Afterwards, I did Annabelle's makeup. I was quite thrilled to have made Belle my personal project as I felt her transformation on the surface would lead to a more profound transformation of her personality._

_I was so excited to see your band play in front of a real audience for the first time. I knew you'd rock the place out; you're so hot and talented, how could you be anything but amazing? And you were amazing, Heath. Don't ever let anyone make you feel different, just because you are. _

_When Annabelle emerged from my bathroom transformed in a cream and silver tasselled dress, I was surprised. Then I complimented my new friend._

'_Wow,' I said, 'you look completely amazing!'_

'_Do you think so? Do you think anyone will notice?'_

_By "anyone" I was pretty sure she meant you and I ignored the insinuation. _

'_Of course, you look beautiful Annabelle,' I said, and meant it._

_Annabelle smiled. She said she knew her pale, icy prettiness wouldn't last. 'I have a slim figure but I know I lack the… specialness that would make a boy like Heath, for example, sit up and take notice.'_

_I knew she wanted me to disagree, but I could never just let her think you were hers for the taking. Instead, I told her any guy would be lucky to have her. And I believed it, (unless that guy was you, of course). Annabelle was, or rather is, perfect girlfriend material, more perfect than me. She's perfectly boring, perfectly spoken and perfectly nice. How could you not like her Heath? Tell me what I saw never happened! Do you remember how much we hated the Hunts as children? How we used to laugh at them?_

_Of course, Edmund has always disliked you because you were braver than him – or so I thought. He called you "rough" but I know Annabelle secretly had a crush on you from the time we all met up at Hareton Hall during summer holidays and I put on a fashion show. Remember? _

_The fashion show began and ended with me showing off my new sports uniform. All of our school friends came and it was my idea to donate the door money to charity! Annabelle was invited to model also, but I went first. Edmund and Annabelle took their seats, open mouthed, on the floor. I'd set up the old ballroom like a theatre and forced you to grudgingly hold the curtains and shine the spotlight. You studied our neighbouring friends without hiding your irritation. You still hadn't forgiven their father for accusing you of harming their dog when we were small, and I don't blame you. You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but inside The Hall that day but this was a chance to "let bygones be bygones," as Greta once said._

'_May I take your coat, Annabelle?' I remember Greta asking. _

'_Yes, thank you very much,' the girl with milk skin answered. You must have found her vaguely pretty, I'm sure, even though you barely showed her any attention when she modelled and clapped loudly when I did. If both she and her brother hadn't irritated us so much with their bland, insipid privilege, perhaps we would all have been friends, earlier. But we always preferred being outside when we were children, didn't we? Playing on Hampstead Heath in the wind, remember?_

_Anyway, earlier tonight Annabelle continued to blabber on as we got ready. _

'_I honestly think Heath is the most handsome boy I've ever met.'_

_I couldn't disagree. I sometimes wonder if Annabelle's plan to befriend me had something to do with wanting to be near you. She stood up and hovered at the entrance to my room when she was nearly ready as if she wanted to share more unasked for information. _

_I turned around from my dressing table._

'_You look like… a princess,' she gasped. It was her turn to flatter me. Annabelle was still gawping at my darkly made up eyes, long gloves, low-cut dress and glitter eye shadow. 'Although I'm not sure the school…' _

'_Oh, I couldn't care less if I get a stupid demerit for wearing a revealing outfit…' I said. 'Don't look so shocked, Annabelle. Come over here and help me tease my hair. It is a 1960's theme after all!'_

'_You look…amazing,' she said as I applied my pale, pink lipstick. _

_It was eight in the evening and the Battle of the Bands Dance had been going for at least half an hour when we arrived. We stood at the top of the stairs surveying the scene we helped create, glitter ball and all. It was spectacular. I knew you were on last and your band was the only one I wanted to cheer for Heath. I thought the school hall, lit up with disco lights, looked amazing, didn't you? I took Annabelle's cream gloved hand in my pink gloved one as we casually walked down the staircase towards the cloak room and saw the whole school lit up with a banner that read Sixth Form Dance._

_When your band played, you guys were awesome. We clapped wildly so you would hear us but you looked straight past me and smiled at Annabelle! She smiled back! I happen to know you'd barely said more than two words to her in all your life, yet she was convinced you were in love with her after that. How could this be so, Heath? I am sorry for doubting you but as her obsession seemed to know no limits. I couldn't help but wonder if you had ever done anything at all to encourage her. _

_The lights were lowered as the heating and the energy in the room warmed and I noticed you pour something from a flask into your water bottle. I think, maybe, you had forgotten your Magenta. You looked hungry. _

_The band started playing again and you were amazing as I always knew you would be. Annabelle's face lit up and I would have started laughing if it wasn't so annoying. I suppose I just decided to fight fire with fire. _

_Soon I was surrounded by a group of boys and some of them started dancing and thrashing to the music and I was caught up in the throng of activity. Food was passed around, teachers stood back and hovered, talking amongst themselves, finally letting everyone dance without bothering to interrupt. _

_The set stopped and afterwards, I saw you attempt to move towards me as Annabelle headed in the opposite direction. You didn't push past her as I expected you to and I refused to show anyone I'd noticed. You looked embarrassed when she clutched your arm and told you how great you were but perhaps you had matured too much to be openly rude as you once might have been. I could barely hear your voices above the dance music but the conversation went something like this: _

'_Hi. The band was amazing,' Annabelle said. _

_You were flattered. I could tell by the careful way you smiled and said, 'Thanks Annabelle.' _

'_It reminds me of the music we played when Kate and I used to make up dances and modelling shows… remember when we lived next door to each other.'_

_How interesting, I thought, when Annabelle knew the dances and fashion shows were entirely directed by me._

'_Of course,' you said, 'how could I forget? You were always so creative,' I could not believe what I was hearing. I also couldn't believe any girl could be quite so…obvious or that you could flatter her so easily. You started packing your guitar in its case and you didn't even give me a second glance. _

_I admit I was occupied with a group of friends by this point but that was because I was so annoyed that you had all but ignored me. How could you, Heath? Finally, you glanced over at me but I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of realising that I'd noticed. I realise now, you were mad at me for not telling you I loved you in return in the cottage the day before. But did you have to pay me back by flirting with Annabelle? It worked. _

_In fact, I barely gave a second to look in your direction. The look on your face said it all. I admit, I was wondering if you were having second thoughts about us. It is true that you are from another world but that is not why I love you, I know that. I know that you would love me even if we'd been brought up together on the street. Games are for other people, Heath, not us. _

_You only have to be yourself with me and I love you completely, for that alone. You once told me you could do anything you wanted, be anyone you wanted and so could I. I am so much like you; I am you. You left too early from the dance, if you heard my reply to Edmund's question but not my true answer. Please come back to me. Save me from whatever fate has in store for me without you. If you are reading this, I am on the train alone and you did not return in time to come with me. I shall wait for you at Hareton Hall…almost as if, although separate, we are one. _

_I love you more than words can ever say._

_Yours forever,_

_Kate _

_The second letter was in Heath's handwriting, dated that night:_

_Dearest Kate_

_Love and loyalty forever, without one the other doesn't exist! How could you imagine otherwise? I have not stopped thinking about you since we parted tonight and I'm writing this now, to give to you in the morning since the house mistress said you could not see me tonight. I walked over to the girls' school to find you but the teachers wouldn't tell me where you had gone. Someone said you had been taken back to London and that because no one could locate me, I am to leave on the morning train. They won't tell me why either, just that I am wanted at home. _

_I feel the need to set things straight between us, since this is our first quarrel and I could not go to sleep angry – or go to sleep at all knowing you are on your way to Hareton Hall without me. I shall give this to you when I see you since it will be easier than spoken words. _

_I hope father is okay. You know I love him as if he were my own, and I have a strange feeling something is up from the way the school counsellor has been speaking to me with added empathy. No one will tell me anything. _

_I hope you at least decide to open this because I know you were angry with me last night. In light of what has happened, our quarrel seems pointless, so please, when you receive this, don't just throw it out the window. You know I never write letters, never, but I am making the exception for you, because you are special Kate and always will be, because I love you forever and you know I always will._

_I'm going to start at the beginning and I'm warning you, this letter is going to be more than a few pages long…_

_Okay, it's true that I was deeply embarrassed by Annabelle being "all over me" as you put it. In my defence, it was past eight and I hadn't been able to get to my supplies and I felt strangely weakened, my desire for blood stronger than ever. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but it is the truth. I won't go on about it but I was feeling less than my best which may have added to the perception that I was ignoring you. Remember Kate, it is hard to be the one saying "I love you," and not hearing those words in return. _

_As for the Band Battle, I think we were attracting a few fans (this bit is supposed to make you laugh!) but I admit Annabelle was very obvious tonight. Even our drummer noticed her behaviour. She credited you with her makeover! Perhaps you should have given her a make-under - just kidding. Yes, I smiled back at her as I glanced around the room, waiting for YOU who seemed to be ignoring me! We had agreed to meet outside after the set had finished, to continue the party…elsewhere. But the scout from London was here and the band wanted me to put in an appearance. After he left, Mr Jones was on the war path trying to round up the boys who spiked the punch …guess who? Annabelle was a decoy, someone to hide behind. I am ashamed to say that is why I went outside with her and this is what happened next…_

_Annabelle sipped her drink and tried to make conversation, thrilling lines such as:_

'_Do you have plans, Heath, for when school ends?'_

_I replied, 'yes,' wondering how long before it would be safe to go inside._

'_I don't… not really. Father wants me to apply for university. I thought I might like to go to Art College in London instead.'_

_I nodded, still waiting for you, feigning interest in her vapid conversation. I glanced through the glass doors and saw you and the moronic Edmund Hunt, dancing. Great choice if you wanted to make me jealous Kate, it worked._

_Annabelle looked up and said, 'My brother seems to have taken a shine to…your sister.'_

_I gulped my drink as one of the band made a secretive gesture in his direction indicating more alcohol would be forthcoming. _

'_She's… not my sister,' I said quickly (because you aren't!)_

'_No… I'm sorry, of course not, but you were raised together…' Annabelle added, more annoyingly than ever. _

'_Only until we came here…almost six years ago now,' I replied, setting the record straight. _

_Annabelle then changed the subject._

'_I thought I'd hate it here but sometimes I prefer the school to home. I like having friends of my own.'_

_(I'm not sure what you said to her that afternoon, Kate, but she was under the impression you were her new best friend!)_

_I admit, it's true, this next part makes me seem inconsiderate but I was bored by her conversation and looked around the room. I became even more annoyed by your flirty behaviour with rich boy Edmund. Annabelle was all…wobbly by then. I think she'd been drinking too much punch even though it was never designed for her! She kept putting her hand on my shoulder to steady herself and at one point I returned the gesture to hold her up!_

_I looked across the room and there you were, beautiful in your pink dress, glaring at me. You turned your head (to listen to Edmund's scintillating conversation, no doubt). _

_Annabelle said, 'Oh look, Kate's dress fans out in waves across the floor, in waves at her feet like the ocean…'_

_And at that moment, that's exactly where I wanted to be with you. As far away from that school and our families and all the people who ever knew us, because I only want you, Kate, forever. _

_Then, the music reached a fever pitch and Annabelle was jumping up and down and you were in the middle of the group and I was watching you and then you…fell down._

'_Oh,' Annabelle said, suddenly still, 'I hope Kate's okay.'_

_I moved towards you but Edmund Hunt got there first. _

_Annabelle looked at me all gaga by then. It's true that I glanced at her, but more like she was a consolation prize! This was just as you turned heads paying Edmund your undivided attention! (One of my teammates once walked in on the pair of them – brother and sister – trying to teach each other to dance in the student common room!) Honestly, Kate, we should never let either of them get between us. They are not worth it! (Jealous? Yes, at least I admit it!) I turned away as Edmund was helping you up. _

'_Do you want to go outside?' Annabelle asked me, unexpectedly. _

_What was I supposed to say? I suppose I could have declined and stormed off like a girl but I wanted to make you pay. I'm sorry, I know that love is patient and kind; I know that is what we are taught but you and I are different. Words are not enough. I just want to be with you…impatiently, all the time. And sometimes I want to suck the vein in your wrist but I hold back because I'm trying to be better than that for you Kate, I'm trying not to have to be what I was born to be. You make me try to be a better man. Tonight I was less than my best, I know…_

_The balcony was divided into sections for groups to talk and socialize. _

_I made sure rich boy saw me as you told Edmund you were okay while he helped you outside. I wanted to make you jealous so I put my arm around Annabelle then released her moments later. _

'_Wait here,' I told Annabelle, 'I'm going to get you some water. I'll be back in a moment.' That's when I heard you. Rich boy spoke first._

'_Are you sure you're okay?'_

'_Ah, I think it might be some kind of… minor sprain,' you said. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to… ?'_

'_No, I like the fresh air.'_

_I could hear your words clearly Kate as I went to get Annabelle's drink. _

'_Do you… need me to help you back to your room? Or would you like me to get…your friend, the one you're always hanging out with,' Edmund said jealously I might add. _

'_That is not necessary, I do some things by myself you know… and we are not always together.' I could hear those words Kate! You spoke them!_

'_Well, certainly, people don't see you together but I've heard…' he went on._

'_Perhaps you listen to too much student gossip…' you sounded mortified that people might guess we were together!_

'_No…not at all,' Edmund said, 'I just thought you were with…'_

_I was standing outside the balcony tent by then, hidden from view, but once I heard the topic of conversation I couldn't resist pausing. Trust is fragile Kate! You need to explain the rest to me because I never stop loving you no matter what you do…you added these words: _

'_There is nothing to think… I'm my own person. I'm not with…anyone. I don't have a boyfriend…'_

_I admit I freaked out standing there in the shadows like a stranger to your life. Hadn't we just spent the morning together? Hadn't we been closer to each other than anyone else in this life? I wanted to teach you a lesson for being disloyal, so I stormed off through the crowd._

_By now you must know, Annabelle means nothing to me, nothing. YOU ARE MY LIFE KATE SPENCER._

_Later_

_Then I woke up this morning to hear your father had died suddenly. I am on the morning train to London, drinking my supply. Honestly, I feel completely lost and only want to see your face again. Our petty argument seems just that. He was the only father I ever knew, too, Kate. I never met a kinder more sincere man in my life. I'm so sorry, Kate. _

_I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER. _

_I will be at Hareton Hall as soon as possible _

_Hxxxxxxxxxxxx. (and here the page was smothered in at least a dozen kisses and hugs and what looked like the smudge of tears…) _

I read over the childish letters in the dark. It seemed plausible that Kate and Heath were separated as part of a plan Harrison was forming.

Soon after, Kate was sent to Finishing School in Switzerland, where she stayed for three months until her eighteenth birthday. Both sets of school fees were cancelled and Heath was thrown out of the house, onto the street, his inheritance "absorbed" in the family trust and expenditure – justified by Harrison's appointment as the executor of the family estate. Neither of the younger Spencers appears to have completed secondary school in Scotland. A final letter from Kate (written in Switzerland) filled me in on some of the missing details.

_Dear Heath _

_By now you will know where I am and why and I wait patiently to join you. _

_How typical of Harrison to have tricked the school into separating us, and how alone and terrible I feel without you now. I wait for you and please know everything that happened at the dance is ancient history; it all means nothing in light of recent events. I still cannot believe father is gone. _

_Greta is taking this with her and has promised to give it only to you. Harrison, as you know, confined me to my room before I was packed off to Switzerland. He locked the door and barred the window after he dragged me from your path and would not let me leave this room. He says my place is with my family and not with "a freak". But you are my family Heath, and if that makes us freaks together, so be it. We will meet as planned and Harrison will never separate us again. _

_You won't believe what he has done! His new girlfriend, Frances (we call her Franny and so far she is a good natured sort of person, trying to bring me food and drink when Harrison is not about) is soon to be his wife! The little boy (a mere toddler) is her brother. His name is Hinton. They allowed him into my room to give me company before I was packed off to Finishing School. How kind of them. He too is a good natured little boy, with a face like a cherub. He likes to play with his toys and offers them to me to "make me better". I hate to imagine how Harrison's influence could change him since he is such a sweet child. I have tried to warn Frances but she is so "in love" she refuses to listen, and so far, Harrison has only presented his nicer side. He insists I am in my room for my own good and I barely have the energy to resist any more. With you gone, I have nowhere to turn. I have enclosed half the money we saved together in my piggy bank as children. I'd hidden it and you will need it more than me. Please don't send it back! _

_This will be shorter than the last letter. I just want to clear up what happened at the stupid Battle of the Bands and we can talk when I finally see you. Greta has promised to send you the details and I know you will contact her; I just know it. _

_Our school days seem pretty aimless in light of what has happened. Father died in my arms just before you arrived home. It was horrible, Heath. I miss him so much. I think he was our only ally. _

_Back to our stupid misunderstanding; I know my thoughtless behaviour hurt you more than any beating or withdrawal of privileges we ever received from Harrison, just as yours did me; so not worth it. I love you, too, more than anything or anyone else. You should know, before we make plans, that this is what happened after you left the ball room that night. _

_I told Edmund that I couldn't ever go out with him. He asked me if I was "attached" to anyone (which I found old fashioned and funny although I hardly imagine myself laughing ever again right now.)_

'_I can't go out with you, Edmund,' I said._

'_But, you just told me you are not attached to anyone,' he replied._

_**That's because I'm… more than attached**__. Those were my exact words, but you didn't stay in the room long enough to hear them. _

_I added, 'It is true that you don't see Heath and I together… in public or at school much but… we are more__** than attached**__. We are together in secret. We plan to move to London next year but of course my older brother would never approve so we just keep it to ourselves. It is true we are young but we are like, __**the same person. **__I could never imagine being without Heath.' And blah blah blah I went on, embarrassed to be relaying those words now, but they are TRUE. _

'_I see,' Edmund replied. Pale and dorky though he is; I think he meant us both well. 'I knew you were close… Anyway, I'm going up to Cambridge next year….' And after I had assured him there was no hope we would ever be more than friends, Edmund looked away, hurt. So please don't hate him for liking me because I think he is actually a good person. He seemed to understand and asked if we could remain friends. I didn't know what else to say so I said "yes", but truly, it all meant nothing. I tried to get up but the pain in my ankle made me hesitate. I looked for you but you were NOWHERE. That night I dreamt that we were parted and I begged you to come back to me. _

_Tell me this isn't true! _

_COME BACK TO ME NOW HEATH. I LOVE YOU I NEED YOU I WANT YOU FOREVER AND EVER._

_Love Kate (sealed with a thousand kisses)_


	16. Truth or Daring Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Truth or Daring**

Ryan looked at him incredulously.

"I can't believe you're standing alone, Darcy. California Girls are hot."

"Says who?"

"The classic song, for one. Mate, if you don't pull your head out of the clouds and stop sulking we'll never have a senior year to remember, let alone a junior one."

"Never mind, we'll probably get to repeat it in Australia if my father has his way," Darcy added sarcastically.

"Not if we get involved and get good grades and start meeting women," Ryan added optimistically. "There are so many fine looking girls here..."

At this point Paige and Coco were standing almost directly behind Darcy and Ryan, but the boys seemed oblivious to this.

"_You_ have been talking to the only girl I've given a second glance to all night."

"You can't be serious. What about her sister? I just saw her somewhere around talking to her friend..." At this point, Paige and Coco were silently listening on the balcony above the throng. I was standing by the punch bowl giggling with Honey as we made notes on our cell phones. It was impossible not to overhear the boys talking in their hot Aussie accents above the din.

"Paige Bennet is one of the most obnoxious girls I've ever encountered. I was in debate class with her a few days ago and her attitude really sucked. Plus, she was seriously pushy. But apart from her personality – which left a lot to be desired – I wouldn't give her "looks" a second glance. In a roomful of attractive girls, she's somewhere in the middle. I have no idea how a girl, with two such trampy younger sisters (as he said this, Rebel was being swung around on the dance floor, shrieking), can be so pleased with herself."

"Shut The Front Door!" Paige said loudly, climbing down the stairs, staring at Darcy and brushing past him in disgust.

Darcy could not have misunderstood her meaning, although most of the other people at the dance were way too interested in what they were doing to notice Paige and Darcy. We – Honey and I – raised our eyebrows and busily punched notes into our cell phones.

Ryan immediately excused himself to get some punch for Mackenzie. Besides, he wanted an excuse to see Shiloh again.

If Darcy thought that Paige was going to stand next to him, or even near him, much less talk to him again, he was severely mistaken.

"C'mon," Paige said, taking Coco's arm, "The Princesses are expecting us at their table."

Darcy, once again was left bristling, red-faced and speechless.

It was clearly keyed in by me: _He'd never encountered such an exasperating person as Paige Bennet. She didn't even give him a chance to explain himself. _

Wednesday added: _Paige regaled the senior Princesses: Shiloh, Wednesday and Coco with the entire tale, while we freshman Princesses sat and listened and whispered in awe. _

_Meanwhile… _Mackenzie was busy infiltrating the _Praise & Worshipfuls_ – a prayer group she also maintained popularity with - on the other side of the room. Darcy could tell by the way the entire table of fashion forward Princesses looked down at him, that he'd been misquoted. He turned his back on us. As if he cared what a bunch of gossiping females thought!

The truth was, he'd thought very highly of Paige. Too highly. After he'd let her win in debate class there was no way he'd let her get the best of him socially.

I wrote: _I think, Paige is way too much for Darcy to handle but he'd never admit it or let her get the upper hand, like she just had. She's bested him publicly, twice already. What does he expect her to do next? Tell everyone how hot she thought he was? Before she changed her mind? _

"_Besides,_ _what on earth do you say to a pretty girl, who's already smart? I mean, you can't tell her she's pretty," Ryan wondered quietly to Mackenzie after he'd talked to Shiloh but she'd acted like her usually reserved self. Mackenzie just smiled over her punch and shrugged. Mackenzie was far more interested in who Darcy was interested in because it clearly wasn't her. _

"_That's where Darcy goes wrong," _Honey stated_. "He should have complimented Paige. Taken the high road and all the rest could never have happened…" Honey and I were eating ice-cream at my place later that night, reflecting. _

"Never mind, Darcy," Mackenzie Bingley whispered as she walked over to Darcy. "I'm finished making small talk for the night with those girls who think they are _it. _Besides, I'm getting quite fond of the _Praise & Worshipfuls_."

This was a table full of students who held daily prayer meetings. Mackenzie was keen to infiltrate them as they held a lot of sway over the vote in all things student related. Basically, they held the power balance at Sunrise High School.

As long as Mackenzie was 'stuck' at Sunrise High School she intended to own the place. Besides, she believed in Jesus and doing unto others, didn't she?

"Remember Darcy," Mackenzie said, "Paige Bennet will never best you. Trust me; she'll reveal her inadequacies very soon. The truly classless always do. God doesn't give with both hands."

Darcy looked at Mackenzie as if she'd just inhaled glue_. _

That night, when Honey and I were being driven back to Honey's place for a sleepover, I texted before bed (to remind myself of what we had to add in the morning):_ What Mackenzie really meant, of course, is that the qualities she identified in Paige and her sister Shiloh were ones she herself lacked (and therefore envied). _


	17. Escape Chapter 16

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**Escape – Present Day**_

'Breakfast!' Greta called to the inhabitant upstairs. Heath was hurriedly dressing and came bounding down the stairs looking like a much younger man with his riding boots in hand, ready to go out.

'Not going to the office this morning?' Greta asked as she handed Heath his coffee which he hurriedly gulped down.

'I'm going riding, if the stables are still standing.'

'Well, the storm stopped about a week ago, but it's been raining ever since so I'm not sure it's the best weather for riding. Mud everywhere.'

'It'll be fine,' Heath assured her. 'Oh, I see we have a visitor.'

'Yes…your, er… niece, Katarina. She seems to have become quite fond of her cousins.'

Heath looked at Greta blankly. 'Where are they?'

'They've left already. Katarina and Linus went out to find props and attend a dress rehearsal for the play. What are you getting yourself into Heath?'

'Nothing I can't get out of. She has a right to know her cousins. They have a right to know her.'

Greta raised an eyebrow. 'This isn't more…vengeance, is it Heath? Because, you know, you already fought that war.'

'Did I Greta? I'm not so sure.' Heath, in a rare show of affection (he was in a surprisingly good mood this morning), leant over and pecked Greta on the cheek.

'Don't worry so much Greta. It's time I had some more young people about me. The place seems a lot sunnier this morning.'

'Oh, you and your "young people", Greta smiled. 'You don't look a day over twenty-six. I wish you could give me the secret to your eternal youth.'

'You don't know the half,' It was a strange comment, Greta thought, since Heath had shared his secret with her long ago.

The wind had flattened the heather outside. A slight trick of sunlight shone across the park turning the other side of the field gold.

Greta shrugged. 'Trying to stop Heath getting involved in something he wanted had been almost pointless, from the time he was a little boy.' She wrote in her journal. _'I knew I could do nothing to persuade him against his plan…' _

_**Twenty Years Ago**_

Kate crept into Hareton Hall when it was way past dinner the night Heath had proposed to her. There was lightness in her step as she moved upstairs to pack her things. In the dark, she heard breathing. At first she thought it was just Frances, who had fallen asleep soundly on the couch but it was also her older brother, Harrison. He flicked the switch on above the couch and all of the chandeliers shone at once, creating a halo above Kate's head. Her brother stared at her menacingly from the corner of the drawing room.

Meanwhile, Heath was delayed. He'd taken the horses to the stables to wash them down. Kate dodged Harrison and wandered over to pat Hinton's head and carry him to his room. He was curled up asleep in a lounge chair with his puppy and she hesitated to wake him. Hinton was always content to play with his animals. Today it was a new pet, but as often he picked up a lost kitten outside in the garden and took it inside to feed. There were always small creatures that found their way into Hareton Hall and Hinton's menagerie.

Hinton stirred awake just as Franny, snuggled into Harrison's shoulder, opened her eyes. Kate realised her sister-in-law must still be delusional about Harrison's true nature.

Harrison had, these past few days, mostly ignored Heath and tried to curry favour with Kate. Greta wrote in her diary that she wondered what new scheme he was planning.

'Kate,' he said out of the blue. 'Welcome home. You've returned.' He nudged Frances. 'Franny wondered if you'd like to go on a shopping trip with her…to Paris.'

Kate tried to ignore Harrison's bribe.

'Dearest Kate, I want you and Frances to be friends. Paris is close to Switzerland where Franny and I will be skiing. The trip is on me.' Harrison had decided it would help to have Kate on side, less hassle when he needed her to sign legal documents.

'When?'

'Next week.'

Kate nodded, although she and Heath would be far away by then.

Since Oxford, Harrison had worked at the family firm and in the weeks since her father had died, Harrison had taken over not just her finances, but control of the entire estate. Until she was eighteen, he had all the power.

'I've been thinking, Kate… and your mother agrees, it's time for you to go back to school. Father would have wanted you to complete your education.'

'And Heath?' Kate added.

'Oh, well, that's up to him.'

Harrison basically ignored the question. 'That boarding school in Scotland was always useless. It's where I went after all and I doubt things have improved and…I'm concerned that you spend too much time doing nothing meaningful there. You can finish your studies in Switzerland, visit your mother and also learn something useful at the same time.' Harrison looked at the kitchen disdainfully, 'like how to cook for your future husband.'

Frances smiled as Harrison sniggered.

Kate knew without asking that he did not factor Heath into his statement and their plan would have to go into full swing. Kate was angry, however, and she couldn't resist a retort.

'You went to university. Why shouldn't I have that opportunity?'

'Dear Kate, you will be rich. What do you need university for? You'll only marry and have children like all the women before you. Oh, and let me give you some advice, no man wants a wife who… talks back.'

Kate couldn't believe Harrison's disturbing psychological argument. It was the 1990s after all. Harrison had always been poison; she should never have even bothered trying to reason with him.

'And to be honest, Kate, father's contacts helped me achieve, not my marks at school. We don't have him to help us anymore,' Harrison said, just to rub it in.

Meanwhile, Greta stirred the pot in the kitchen, going over her written instructions to the cook regarding the lunch for the meeting of twelve Board members that Harrison had called. Heath was still in the stables grooming the horses. Greta raised an eyebrow.

Harrison continued. 'As you know, you are not yet eighteen, so you are still legally under my care. The truth is Kate, unless you want to be out on the street, you have no choice but to comply with my wishes or…'

'Or?'

'If you run off with Heath, I'll call the police and have you both brought back and the "charity case" arrested.'

'On what grounds?'

'Oh, I'll make something up. I'm far more creative than you realize. I have friends in high places. I'm sure we can accuse him of something…freakish or financial. Dipping into charitable funds? Being a vampire? That could keep him detained for a while.'

'You have no proof.'

'My suspicions are enough to make an awful lot of trouble for you both. Besides, you are under age…'

'By three months…'

Harrison's wife, who had been curled up in the corner of the couch, stretched and went upstairs. Before she left she kissed her husband's cheek, oblivious to the shouting or his true nature. After all, she had a family fortune to protect as well and the merging of both family companies could only be profitable for both families. As Frances left, she smiled at Kate with an almost pitying look. In that moment, Kate realised she was all but alone. If she ran to the stables where Heath was washing the horses and they went away somewhere with what little funds they had, they would be running forever if Harrison had his way.

Well, they'd just have to take that risk.

'I don't want to go to Switzerland, Harrison.'

'It's all arranged Kate. The driver will take you to the airport in about ten minutes. Don't worry, Franny will meet you in Paris the first weekend. Mmm…I sense your hesitation. I feel Heath has brought you quite low in the world. You are to leave this afternoon. Go upstairs and pack your things. Oh, and don't fret. The Hunts have a chalet for the holidays. You are invited to stay for the season. You should be happy. Six months will go in six weeks. Then, when you've finished school, if you want to throw your life away on the charity case, who am I to stop you?'

'No. Father would have wanted us to stay together.'

'Father isn't here now. I'm the head of this household and you have nothing unless I give it to you. Learn to obey me Kate, at least until you can earn your own living.' Harrison looked around him and added as an afterthought, 'although the women in this household have never been very good at doing that.'

'Maybe that's because the men in the family refuse to educate them.'

'Excuse me?' Harrison said.

'And Heath?'

'Heath is eighteen at midnight Kate. What he does is no business of ours. I have sent a messenger to encourage him to leave the property at once. I shall send him packing with plenty of cash, Kate. No need to worry.'

'That's a lie! You've always been jealous of him!' Kate yelled at her older brother from the top of the stairs.

'Even so,' Harrison said coolly. 'We'll see who has the last laugh now.'

'Where is he?'

'I have a police officer outside in the stables waiting to explain his rights to him. I expect he will choose to leave sooner rather than…later. He should have turned eighteen by the time he…chooses to go.'

'Another lie…he'd never leave without telling me…'

'Well, after he's been told about your decision, he's sure to want to leave. It's almost midnight after all. What were you both doing out in the park so late? Never mind, don't answer that.' Harrison said smugly.

'Heath knows it would not be my decision…that I didn't have a choice.'

'Mmm…' Harrison said with a smile. 'Well, we didn't really explain it to him like that.'

'I will not leave without seeing him.'

'Heath took his bags and left a few minutes ago. He'd be half way down the road by now.' Kate moved to the front door but Harrison warned her with his words. 'If he wants you, I'm sure he'll write. I must tell you Kate, this teenage passion you have for him seems to me to be very one-sided.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I have it on good authority…'

'Whose?'

'Edmund Hunt's since you're so interested.'

'What has he been telling you?'

'Well, he happened to mention to the son of a colleague of mine, that Heath and his sister had been quite close…'

'Another lie.'

'Is it?'

'You know Heath can't stand her.'

'Really? Well in my experience where there's smoke, there's fire. Go and pack your bags and stop behaving like a moron. A few months in Switzerland will do you the world of good. You can leave in the morning. And I'm warning you, Kate, you don't actually have a choice.'

Kate turned to go up the stairs, holding back tears.

'Haven't you forgotten something?'

'What?'

'Say thank you.'

Kate ignored him. She ran up the staircase. When she reached her bedroom Kate looked through the windows. The stables were quiet, the horses almost silently eating hay. Heath was nowhere to be seen. He must have been dragged off the property. Kate moved through the connecting door to the playroom, the place in which she once gained many hours of solace. The door slammed shut and Harrison locked it behind her.

Screaming was useless. Instead, she leaned against the door, slumped to the carpet and cried.

After a few minutes, Kate sighed. Harrison had not barred the windows. She was wrong to try to reason with her brother. This was all her fault for not running away sooner.

The girl picked herself up, went to her secret hiding place under the floorboards and found the documents she needed. Quickly, she threw her passport and some belongings into a bag and crawled out of the window like she used to when she was a child. She scraped her arm sliding down the scaffolding outside the building, flung her things into the car (she'd hidden a spare set of keys in the stables), and sped down the road towards the intersection. She was sure Heath could not have gone too far; then she remembered how fast he could run. The car shuddered and ground to a halt. The petrol gauge came up empty. Harrison must have emptied most of the tank, suspecting she'd try to escape. She would have to go by foot across the heath.


	18. Midnight Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

_**Midnight**_

The boy was walking quickly. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder full of supplies and the fruits of his gambling stuffed into the back pocket of his black jeans. Kate caught up with him and flung her arms around him.

He kissed and hugged her in return.

'I was going to wait for you, here,' he said. Kate looked closely at his face. The skin around his right eye was turning black…

'The police officer did that?'

'He wasn't a policeman. Just a thug Harrison hired,' Heath said bitterly.

'I'm so sorry. We should have left sooner,' Kate said, kissing him. His lips were still warm. 'It was foolish of me to try to find the good in Harrison where there is so little.' Kate added regretfully.

They hid behind the shelter of the bus shed as the weather turned and rain spat from the dark sky. Soon it would be midnight and they'd have to hide until morning. They were together now and immune to the outside world.

'This is all that matters,' Kate said as she hugged Heath for warmth.

'C'mon,' the boy said, releasing her. 'There won't be any buses until morning. We must find warmer shelter. Harrison is probably in an alcoholic stupor by now so there's no need for us to freeze to death.'

They trudged across the ground in the dark.

It was almost midnight when Heath began to feel a stirring in his arms. Exhausted, they rested at the base of an oak tree. The muscles in Heath's legs tightened and he was woken by the strong and sweet scent of human blood. Kate was bundled up in her coat next to him. She had scratched her arm, climbing down the side of Hareton Hall and Heath had a strong desire to lick the scratch. He stretched, resisting the almost irresistible. He knew he had to get to his vampire specialist in London, today if possible. He felt sure Kate would understand. The muscles in his body thumped and tightened. The need to drink blood overwhelmed him.

He quickly grabbed a packet of Magenta from his backpack. It was the new product his specialist had urged him to take a sample of during his last visit. This liquid sated him, momentarily, and he fell asleep again next to Kate as the snow began to fall on the glass roof above them.

They'd had no choice but to wait out the storm in the glass house, the place where he and Kate had once loved to visit, loved to be together, just seated side by side, barely bold enough to touch. Heath remembered best those moments of wonder and they only added to his love for her. Meanwhile, his desire to plunge his fangs into her neck was becoming more intense by the minute.

'Heath?' the girl asked sleepily.

'Kate?'

He nudged her awake. The blue coat she hid under was long and heavy, made for stronger weather and travel.

Kate opened her red eyes. He could see she had cried herself to sleep. 'We can never go back,' she whispered. 'He threatened to tell everyone about you or worse… have you framed for some fake financial crime… and he'd be capable of doing it, you know. He can forge your signature on documents…'

Heath looked away.

'I doubt he'd go through with it. He doesn't want to publicly besmirch the family name. Wipe away your tears, Kate. We have each other.'

Kate put her arms around him, but for the first time, he pushed her back.

'Don't Kate,'

'Why not?'

'I can feel a change tonight. I need to go to Harley Street…'

'We'll go together,' Kate said.

They huddled on the bench as Heath started to sweat. The girl spread her coat over the boy.

'You should leave me Kate; I don't know what is going to happen next. I want you to be safe. Safe, from me.'

'You can't be serious. You can't seriously… I could never love anyone as I have loved you… all my life you are the only one for me.'

'And you for me.'

'What has happened? What did Harrison say to you?'

Heath looked away.

'He told me I'm a…freak. That he didn't want my blood tainting this family…'

'That's not true! I love you. If you are a freak then I'm one too and I don't care what the world says…'

'Kate, listen to me. On the street, being pursued, we are nothing. Give me time. I shall get my antidotes, supplies, a job, make some money and…come for you.'

'No. Don't.'

Heath got up.

'No. I will come to you. I'm writing down this address, in London. It's a little café where I once visited with father in Covent Garden when I was small, before he brought me home that night to meet you. I went there once a few months ago with Greta. I kept the business card. Here, I've written all the details. Meet me there, eight am in three months on the twenty-eighth. The day you turn eighteen, you will be free of him. We will meet there and be together, forever.'

'Promise me.'

'I promise to find you again, if we are ever parted. But we are not going to be parted.'

The lovers embraced.

Heath's hearing had sharpened. 'I sense they are near…'

'No, I cannot let you go,' Kate said. 'I cannot live without you.'

'Kate!' He whispered, his desire to fang her was stronger than ever. Heath whispered softly as his knees fell to the ground 'I love you.'

A shout could be heard in the distance, then a whistle and a voice, 'She's in there!' Headlights shone in through the glass.

'Careful officer, he's got a gun,' Harrison said. 'He took it from the stables. He tried to kill me and he's abducted my sister…'

Momentarily, Heath slumped from the light which imitated the sun. Heath had his arm around what looked like Kate's neck and the police officer must have misconstrued what he saw.

'Don't shoot!' Kate yelled.

It was too late.

The shot ran out in the cold night air and went right through Heath's chest, barely missing his heart.

He shuddered and writhed in pain. It was a shot no human being could survive.

Kate was stunned. Motionless, she barely made a sound.

The police officer stared in horror at the lifeless young male. He was speechless as he bent over Heath's ashen body. The policeman checked the packet in the boy's lifeless fingers. His fist contained nothing but a water bottle inside a brown paper bag. No weapon existed on his body.

Kate screamed hysterically and placed her head upon her loved one's chest as she sobbed.

'Heath, Heath!'

Moments passed.

Harrison took Kate's arm and dragged her to her feet. She fought him all the way to the car and finally broke free of him, turning and running back to Heath's body.

The police officer, chilled from the night air and the shock of what he'd done, began dialling emergency from his car radio.

Kate screamed again as Harrison took a swipe at her. He forcibly dragged her back to the car but she punched Harrison and kicked him twice as hard. She ran back to Heath and flung herself upon him. In that moment, he was cold and still as she sobbed in the shadows. There was not another human in sight of the distraught girl.

'And then,' Greta added casually, 'the bullet holes started to heal. The flesh grew upon itself until not a mark could be seen through the holes in his shirt. Heath's chest began to rise and fall, his fingers moved, his warm, brown eyes opened.' Greta looked at me as she finished her tea. 'The last words from Heath before he got up and fled were, 'I will pay Harrison back for what he's done.'

Greta sighed. 'And sure enough, he did.'


	19. London Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen **

_**London**_

Kate whispered in his ear, before he'd disappeared into the night, 'I'll pretend to go along with his plan - three months from now. The twenty-eighth like we planned.'

He kissed her forehead and fled.

Heath's disappearance was a mystery. Where a body had lain in the dark only mist seeped through the glass house as the solitary, crying girl was dragged forcibly back to Hareton Hall and then packed off to Switzerland.

The streets of Soho had been very cold at one am - summer, winter or any other season. It had been two days since he had been shot during his transition (and revived). When he fled Hampstead, after Kate was dragged from him, after she'd whispered the time and date of their wedding, he was speechless. Intent on survival, he disappeared into the Hampstead mist. Heath gorged himself on squirrels and hoped it would tide him over until he could get in to see his specialist, Dr Vincent.

Driving back to The Hall, Harrison was sure he'd seen the last of Heath. Although he suspected a vampire variation, he was sure he'd imagined, in his near drunken stupor, the events that had occurred in the early hours of that morning. It was, of course, Heath's eighteenth birthday. As midnight bells rang out, Heath was becoming immortal, shy of sunlight, wary of mirrors and gradually non-existent in photographs. Fearful of dawn and what he might do, the rest would evolve instinctively, over time. He would forge his own path.

After Kate was sent kicking and screaming to Switzerland, Heath's fees were withdrawn as Harrison had promised and the school was notified that Heath would not be returning.

Meanwhile, Heath's friends from Scotland were in school and he had no local acquaintances in Hampstead or the surrounding boroughs and even if he did, he wanted to get as far away from what he remembered of his childhood, as he could. He had the small amount of money he'd saved from running his school fixtures racket (and winning), as well as the cash Kate had placed in her letter.

'I do remember that,' Greta laughed and then let the story continue as if telling itself…

Heath had a small amount of cash plus the money Harrison had given him "what remained of his father's wish", as a "do not return gift" - one hundred pounds – an insult. It was a great deal less than he'd actually been owed; and none of the legacy left to him by his adopted father.

Heath used the money for supplies. He then spent the second night after riding the tube and sleeping rough in St James Park, in a backpacker's hostel near the West End. He now had real empathy for the homeless and resolved that when he became rich and powerful he would help those less fortunate.

As Heath was transitioning, his body was changing inside, but he never gave up hope that he would land on his feet. He was almost glad to be free of Harrison and The Hall but it was Kate's promise of love that kept him going through those cold, desperate nights.

On the third morning he emptied his pockets and realised just how short of cash he would be, once he'd put down a payment on a room for the week. He went to stay with the older brother of one of his school team mates but it soon became clear after a few nights that he couldn't hide his needs from that family and he'd outstayed his welcome. He slept in the park again but it was freezing. The humanity left in him ensured he still felt very cold.

By now, he'd managed to see his specialist, who'd commiserated with him and congratulated him on his eighteenth birthday. The tests showed a major change in his chemical make-up and it would take a few days for his medication to settle his imbalance. Heath still saw his own reflection in the mirror, still ate food and continued to try to live as normal a life as possible. He slept in more than he used to, the craving for human blood was stronger. The promise of Kate was enough, and all he survived for.

Heath was sufficiently recovered from the first step in his transformation. He'd experienced all of the symptoms: major light sensitivity, pain raging through his veins so badly that he curled up under a tree in St James Park and whimpered in daylight, cravings, chills and sweats. He found a tiny bedsit room in Soho. It wasn't long before he discovered, along with the bad side-effects of transition, that he'd developed the power to move quicker and think faster. He could literally see a massive series of complex numbers and add them up to get the correct result. His mathematics skills had always been excellent but now they were computer-like in their accuracy.

Heath resolved to find a job, perhaps two. He could always work in a restaurant, and then look for something else that would utilize his other skills.

He'd always been good at mathematics at school but now his mind worked like a computer. He thought working in a bank might be a good direction to take. He would apply for an entry level job that required no formal qualifications. First, he needed some fast cash since he'd nearly used up all he had. London was a huge place and although young and now partially a vampire, he did not allow this to deter him. Heath went to a hotel and merged so quickly through the lobby that they didn't notice his trip to the men's room. He used the shower and towels and cleaned himself up. He went outside and walked towards Piccadilly via Regent Street and into Soho, leaving his name at various cafes and pubs along the way.

Although he had no experience, someone was sure to need a kitchen hand. As long as the fumes from the cooking didn't get the best of him, he thought he might actually enjoy working with food. He realised, at least for the moment, night work would be best.

The first time he'd walked out in broad daylight (and London was mostly overcast, even in summer), his skin crackled, far worse than it had when he was a child. Then, he realised he'd forgotten to wear his medallion. He placed it around his neck after that, never taking it off, realising it contained the power to help him live a relatively normal life.

After he'd secured a job in a café, he applied for a job as office cleaner in one of the huge banks in the City. It wasn't much but both jobs gave Heath hope.

Meanwhile, he studied the stock market, hoping to one day make enough money to put a deposit on a flat. In those weeks, applying to finish school by correspondence, (something Heath once planned to do), went by the wayside.

It was during this transition phase in his life that he turned a corner one day and walked straight into Annabelle Hunt, rugged up in a cherry red overcoat exiting the building where her Soho art class was held. Displaying a previously unrecognised knack for rebellion, Annabelle had insisted on attending day school in London so she could go to Art classes at college in the evening. Her family had relented because Annabelle had so rarely been passionate about anything (apart from Heath) in her young life. As the girl had turned eighteen she had some say in the matter.

'Anyway,' Annabelle said, 'school was so lame once you and Kate were gone. There was no one interesting to talk to at all, except my brother, and he's hardly exciting.' Annabelle added in a rare display of personality as they sat together in the student coffee shop where Annabelle had insisted on dragging Heath.

Heath nodded. 'Ah, something we both agree on,' he added sarcastically.

Annabelle smiled self-consciously.

Heath had been resistant to sit with her at first, but strangely, seeing Annabelle reminded him of Kate, and talking to her was like old times.

'You look so different,' Annabelle said, peering into his eyes. Heath looked away.

'I have her address, you know,' Annabelle added as she stuffed her contact details into Heath's palm and kissed him on both cheeks in her European way. Heath agreed to stay in touch and that is how Annabelle became Heath's unlikely ally.

In his spare moments, Heath studied the stock markets. He learned a lot from the discarded ledgers thrown in the waste paper baskets he emptied at the firm where he worked on week nights.

After working in a pub during the day, he managed to put a deposit on a tiny bedsit. The plan was to save enough money to finish school at a Sixth Form College the following term then fill out his university entrance forms for the next year.

Annabelle had contact with Kate through mutual school friends and reconnected with Heath to let him know she would be delivering the cards and letters Kate posted to him, care of her. These postcards would have gone "missing" if they'd been posted from Switzerland because Kate was not allowed to send mail to anyone that Harrison, her guardian, hadn't agreed to. The "society" Hunts, were on his list.

Surprisingly, Annabelle had agreed to act as a go-between for the lovers. Heath hoped Kate would go to university with him. Although he knew she had her heart set on Art School in Florence, London was 'a better option' she had written, 'considering their finances.' Heath smiled when he read her note, as Annabelle looked on pensively. She quite liked playing the go-between. It suited her surprisingly humble nature, Heath thought, underestimating her, not for the first time. He knew Kate would be making the best of a presumably bad situation in Switzerland and he worked away the days before he'd get the chance to see her again. They re-confirmed the date of their rendezvous in their letters.

Sleeping rough in St James, hunting squirrels for food - those days were a distant memory - yet hard living had almost suited him.

He was young, verging on immortal. He could easily stay out all night and work all day but he rarely spoke to other people nor was he interested in other girls. He'd taken Kate's red scarf; she'd left it in the stables in a rush, and now Heath kept it in his pocket. The wool was warm and smelt of her perfume.

His own bedsit, although grungy, was like a palace to Heath after the turmoil of Hareton Hall. In preparation for Kate's visit, Annabelle had insisted on buying lengths of material and decorating the windows. Occasionally, she wondered what it would have been like had Heath returned her infatuation at school but her new boyfriend, Toby, was good for her. He was also studying Art History. She knew she was in a better place with a man who could reciprocate her feelings. It was enough, she thought, just to be near Heath but Annabelle did not underestimate how important his new friendship was to her.

Heath was excited as the day drew nearer. He walked past the place Kate had arranged to meet him many times that week. On the second occasion he was sure he'd seen her, but then the girl turned around and her eyes were nothing like those of the woman he loved. Kate had promised him. Kate would be there. Promises were everything. A promise was all they had. The walls of his room were pasted with the old-fashioned post cards Kate had sent him every day for a week.

Through all of this, Annabelle had been the conduit. A secretive message relayed from a secret meeting in St James Park. She had even tried to stuff money in Heath's pocket while he waited for his first pay cheque. It was enough to give Heath and Kate hope since neither of them had telephones and the internet was barely in use.

The sun shone in London as Heath waited for Kate and their reunion drew near. He'd been holding down two jobs and with a roof over his head, was filled with hope for the future.


End file.
